Looking back, he wished he, and not Brickman, had gone to the trading
post. Had he done so, he could have seen the aftermath of the battle,
shared the feelings of his blood-brothers, and taken part in the first,
crucial round of discussions as a stand-in for the ailing Mr Snow. But
events had conspired to prevent him from making the journey and he
could see now that it was meant to be. с Nothing in life was
insignificant, every gesture, every action was part of a larger
pattern. The essence of each experience had to be distilled, each
event had to be stripped down to its core elements, weighed and
understood - because they were all related. And if, by clear thinking,
you could pierce the fog of trivia and arrive at a true understanding
of that relationship, you would find that the way ahead was
illuminated. You could not change The Path, for that was already
drawn, but you could proceed along it calmly, confidently, free of
doubt; a wayfarer at peace with himself, his soul no longer tortured by
unworthy thoughts and desires.
There were moments when Cadillac attained that state, when he felt he
had been given a glimpse of the grand design, but then it slipped from
his grasp and he found himself sinking back into a morass of doubt and
petty emotions. To achieve and maintain that state of grace required a
constant, and conscious, effort. Perhaps with the aid of Roz and the
transforming power of her love he would become worthy of the role he
had been given - to prepare the Plainfolk for the coming of Talisman.
The returning elders had told him of the astonishing progress that had
been made towards the building of a lasting alliance between the clans
of the She-Kargo, M'Waukee and San'Paul, and the willingness to accept
any C'Natti and D'Troit clans who were ready to renounce their ties
with the Iron Masters. But would that first flush of goodwill hold
even among the clans of the She-Kargo?
The catastrophic loss of life at the trading post, the awesome nature
of the tidal wave and the terrifying swiftness with which it had swept
away friend and foe alike, must have shaken the survivors to the
core.
Just over half the M'Call delegation had escaped with their lives and
many of the returnees had continued to relive the nightmare, waking
from their sleep with a scream on their lips as the violent death-laden
images rose up from their subconscious and the huge roaring wall of
water threatened, once again, to overwhelm them.
For the Clan M'Call, who were now in the arms of the Great Sky Mother,
the nightmare was over, but the other participants must have been
similarly affected. At that first gathering above the bluffs they
would all have been suffering from shock, a condition which if not
treated, as Roz had explained, could affect people's behaviour for a
considerable time. With the landscape of death that lay below them,
