Images of the skeletal ship rode with Sandon for days after they'd left the crash site. He spent lengthy periods musing about how their history had shaped them, shaped the structure of their society and the existence of others, such as the Atavists themselves. The Atavist family used the ship as a reminder. All of their people used it as a reminder. Were they right? He glanced across at Alise riding beside him. She believed it. He knew there was no point questioning her about it. Every time their conversation strayed to areas of belief, she fell back on her standard phrases and responses. Could she be right, and he be so wrong? He fingered the burgeoning beard on his chin and turned back to watch the passing landscape. As much as he wanted to test her beliefs, he knew there was little to be gained from the exercise. Perhaps some day, but not now. Not for a long time. There were other things he might like to test too, while he was about it? He turned to look at her again, but she was off in her own place.
Three weeks they'd been traveling now. Three weeks of interminable hours on a hard wooden seat on the front of the wagon, and gathered in temporary campsites at night. The time had given him many opportunities to watch and learn. He was at last really starting to understand the Atavist way of life, their routines, their ways of interacting with each other. Alise was always ready to explain when he had questions, and she did so without preconception, allowing his explorations, but yet never stepping over her own personal line. Over the days, he had learned where her boundaries lay, and knew where and when to avoid them.
The wagon train took its time getting down from the high Yarik plateau. After moving on from the crash site, they wound inland and then tracked a wide arc before heading down a rugged track that led down to the plains in a desolate unpopulated area with scant sign that any had even ventured that way. The only thing that told Sandon otherwise was the well-traveled path itself, barely marked by the instability of the area, or encroaching brush. As they creaked and rumbled their way down the mountainside, Sandon wondered how much else he didn't know. The Atavist community seemed to survive conveniently unobserved by the rest of the world.
The surroundings had changed over the last few hours. They'd passed through farmland, through open undeveloped countryside and through forested areas, deep with ajura trees, broad-based and shiny with their armored bark. Every few days, they'd seen one or two small groups of Atavists passing in other directions, but no party as large as their own. They exchanged brief greetings, and then went their own ways. If anything, their interactions had seemed almost perfunctory. What it was that held these people together? It had to be more than faith, didn't it? All these questions were accumulating in the back of his head. He needed to understand, to put it in a place where he could appreciate what made it work. One day, when he had the space, it would make sense, and then he'd be far better equipped to do what he needed to do. For now, he just needed to understand enough to be able to carry out the start of his formative plan.
Small squat plants dotted the surrounding fields, their broad, flat, fleshy leaves spread out from a central spine. Between the plants, dead grasses made a browning carpet, starting to rot and blacken with the ever-present moisture and soaking rain. He knew this landscape; they were nearing the mines, and somewhere close by sat a large Atavist community, a permanent community, from what he had been led to believe. It was a good base to start from, but then? The problem was, he had no idea how he was going to link up with Men Darnak and his party. If he even believed in the Prophet, he might consider some benevolent guiding hand. No, if there was going to be a guiding hand, it was the guiding hand of Sandon Yl Aris.
"Alise, are we getting close?"
She turned and gave him a half smile. "How did you know that?"
"Well, when I spoke to Badrae, he said we were headed for somewhere close to the mines. I recognize this area. If I'm not wrong, that's where we are, or close to it."
"Yes, there is not far to travel. But what then, Sandon? What will you do?"
"What will I do? That's the question all right."
She looked vaguely disappointed. "You are leaving us, aren't you?"
