eyes blazed with anger. 'Is that all that fills your

mind? To be puffed up by praise - like a marsh frog with a throat full

of wind? How many times must it be said? You were born in the shadow

of the Talisman. It fell upon you! Not upon Motor-Head, Hawkwind,

Steel-Eye or Convoy or the other Bears you long to run with, but you!

When the Sky Voices call you to the service of Talisman, you will have

to be braver than the bravest of your clan-brothers.

More fearless than my father. Mightier than the mightiest warriors who

have gone to the High Ground.

When that moment comes you will stand at the side of Talisman, and

there will be a thousand fire songs that bear your name?

'But when will that be?" asked Cadillac.

'Who can tell when, or how, Talisman will enter the world?" replied

Clearwater. 'You must wait as we all wait.

But you must prepare your heart and mind. You must listen to the

sky."

'I listen. But I hear nothing. The Sky Voices do not speak through

me."

Clearwater tossed her head. 'She-ehh! You anger me when you talk as

if you had nothing between your ears. How many times has Mr Snow

spoken of these things? You must hold yourself ready for whatever task

is to be given to you."

'I am ready,' said Cadillac. 'But I am sick of waiting." He broke

away and splashed across the pebbled bed of the river.

Even at the deepest point, the rippling water barely covered his

knees.

Clearwater sighed, shook her head - and waded after him.

She caught up with him as he reached the far bank.

'Cadillac - stop. This is not our turf. You swore to Mr Snow to keep

within bounds - to never put the gift of words in danger."

Cadillac laughed. 'Where is the danger in a herd of fast-foot?

Did you not say I was born in the shadow of the Talisman? If it is

true, then his shadow will protect us.

Come..."

The young fast-foot males were scattered around the edge of the herd on

picket duty, alternately grazing and nosing the air, their long necks

arched, white-rimmed eyes sweeping across the kne-high grass. With the

sun beginning to descend towards the mountains, the fast-foot were

slowly moving closer to the river where they would gather in the cool

of the evening to drink at the water's edge - unless a careless

movement by Cadillac or Clearwater stampeded them in the opposite

direction.

Clearwater was tempted to make such a move but she knew that Cadillac

was determined to bring one down.

There was no point in making it more difficult. She understood his

feelings. 'Standing', being able to 'cut it', was of paramount

importance within a Mute clan, and crucial to the self-respect of a

young male reaching the age of fourteen - the age when he became a

warrior. But as the next wordsmith of the M'calls, Cadillac had no

need of standing.

The gift the Sky Voices had given him set him apart from the rest of

the clan, and when he took Mr Snow's place, even the clan elders would

seek his advice, would defer to his opinions and judgement. Wordsmiths

did not need the raw, hot-blooded courage of Bears. They needed to be

calm, resolute. Cadillac could be both but, at other times, he burned

with a child-like impatience that made Clearwater doubt the wisdom of

the Sky-Voices that spoke through Mr Snow; the all-seeing, all-knowing

powers that guided the destiny of the Plainfolk. When they had poured

her spirit into the belly of $undance, her mother, and shaped the

course of her life-stream to flow alongside that of Cadillac, did they

really know how difficult he could be ... ?

Moving downwind, Cadillac found a dry, shallow gully which snaked away

into the plain towards the centre of the herd where the capo - the

dominant male - grazed, surrounded by his retinue of a dozen or so