stands of timber, but further away, stretching into an infinite distance were other peaks, blue and indistinct. 'It is a beautiful land.' The sun was slowly sinking behind the western peaks, bathing them in golden light. Off to the right Shannow focused on a rearing butte, the sandstone seeming to glow from within.
'It is called Temple Mount,' said Jeremiah. 'Some say it is a holy place, where the old gods live. For myself I believe it to be a resting-place for eagles, nothing more.'
‘I have not heard the name,' Shannow told him.
'The loss of memory must cause you some anguish?' said Jeremiah.
'Not tonight,' Shannow answered. ‘I feel at peace. The memories you speak of hold only death and pain.
They will come back all too soon, I know this. But for now I can look at the sunset with great joy.'
The two men walked towards the river-bank. 'I thank you for saving my life, Jeremiah. You are a good man. How long have you lived like this?'
'About twelve years. I was a tailor, but I longed for the freedom of the big sky. Then came the Unifier Wars, and city life became even more grotesque. So I made a wagon and journeyed out into the wilderness.'
There were ducks and geese on the river, and Shannow saw the tracks of a fox. 'How long have you nursed me?'
'Twelve days. For a while the others thought you were going to die. I told them you wouldn't; you have too many scars. You've been shot three times in your life: once over the hip, once in the upper chest and once in the back. There are also two knife wounds, one in the leg and a second in the shoulder. As I said, you are a tough man. You won't die easy.'
Shannow smiled. That is a comforting thought. And I remember the hip wound.' He had been riding close to the lands of the Wall, and had seen a group of raiders dragging two women into the open. He had ridden in and killed the raiders, but one of them had managed a shot that clipped Shannow's hip-bone and ripped through his lower back. He would have died but for the help of the Man-Beast, Shir-ran, who had found him in the blizzard.
'You are miles away, Mr Shannow. What are you thinking?'
'I was thinking of a lion, Jeremiah.'
They strolled back up the river-bank and towards the camp-fires in the circle of wagons. Shannow was weary now and asked Jeremiah to loan him some blankets so that he could sleep under the stars. ‘I’ll not hear of it, man. You'll stay in that bed for another day or two, then we'll see.'
Too tired to argue, Shannow pulled himself up into the wagon. Jeremiah followed him.
Fully clothed, Shannow stretched out on the narrow bed. The old man gathered some books and made to leave but Shannow called out to him, 'Why did you say I had an infamous name?'
Jeremiah turned. 'The same name as the Jerusalem Man. He rode these parts some twenty years ago -
surely you have heard of him?'
Shannow closed his eyes.
Twenty years?
He heard the cabin door click shut, and lay for a while staring through the tiny window at the distant stars.
*
'How are you feeling - and do not lie to me!' said Dr Meredith. Isis smiled, but said nothing. If only, she thought, Meredith could be as assertive in his life as he was with his patients. Reaching up, she stroked his face. The young man blushed. 'I am still waiting for an answer,' he said, his voice softening.
'It is a beautiful night,' observed Isis, 'and I feel at peace.'
‘That is no answer,' he scolded.
'It will have to suffice,' she said. 'I do not want to concentrate on my . . . debility. We both know where my journey will end. And there is nothing we can do to prevent it.'
Meredith sighed, his head dropping forward, a sandy lock of hair falling across his brow. Isis pushed it back. 'You are a gentle man,' she told him.
'A powerless man,' he said sadly. 'I know the name of your condition, as I know the names of the drugs that could overcome it. Hydro-cortisone, and Fludro-cortisone. I even know the amounts to be taken.
What I do not know is how these
Larry Smith, Rachel Fershleiser