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linked with the cat and the jungle. He poured gratitude from his heart into the air, and licked at a bit of sweat running down his cheek from his temple.
    He fixed the image of the great head, the lithe body, and the intelligent gaze in his mind, committing details to memory so he could call the jaguar again in the future.
    The cat turned and bounded away from him, sticking to the middle of the trail.
    He followed, the jaguar easily pulling away from him, disappearing around a corner.
    When Ah Bahlam reached the corner, the cat was gone. No leaves rustled to show its path and a ridge of stone held no tracks.
    He sank down on a bare patch of ground between two knee-high roots, leaning his head against the rough bark of the tree. “Come back,” he whispered, almost a moan. “Come back.”
    What did it mean that he had not called the cat, but it had found him? That it had run off after taking his measure? He had expected to feel full and powerful after encountering his Way, not confused and empty.
    He remained between the roots, listening to the jungle shift between day and night. Snakes and hunting birds moved freely, while small game scurried under cover.
    The jaguar did not return.
    He waited for it until the light faded and he had to guide himself back with stars and a faint moon.
    As soon as Ah Bahlam returned to Zama, he went looking for Cauac, only to be told the old man had gone to bed for the evening. He fought back disappointment, remembering that he would see his teacher with first light. He had too much energy to sleep, so he walked out toward the sea, near where he had met Cauac earlier.
    The moon threw enough faint light for him to find the path. He stood a few feet from the surf, looking up at the stars.
    “Ah Bahlam?” a voice whispered near him.
    “Hun Kan?” he queried, although it must be her.
    She stepped from the shadows into the moonlight, a slight young woman just a few years younger than Ah Bahlam. Her hair blew unbound around her face, and her eyes and lips were dark in the pale moonlight.
    His breath caught in his throat at her nearness. “Little one. How are you? Are you ready to go back?”
    She stepped near him, her footsteps silent in the sand. “I like it here by the ocean. The silence. It is a lesson to just be still with the ocean for a whole transit of the sun.”
    He kept his voice low. “We weren’t born for this. It has been a gift before we start our true lives.” He swallowed, feeling the dangerous journey ahead. He closed his eyes and took the last step of space between them, curling her into his arms. He should not do even this, but he could no more resist than he could stop breathing. His blood and his heart demanded more, but he made her nearness be enough.
    She leaned into him, her head on his chest. “How do I know I’ll be brave enough? Good enough?”
    He brushed his lips across the part in her hair. “You will be.” Their breathing mingled with the soft susurration of the sea. He whispered, “I saw my jaguar today. A black one.”
    She turned her face up toward him. “The black jaguar has the most power. Then you will have strength.”
    He closed his eyes, searching inside himself for the right answer. “Perhaps. It ran away from me.”
    “Which way did it go?” she asked.
    “Toward home.”
    “Then perhaps we’ll find it on our way.”
    He smiled at her optimism. If only it could be so easy. “I will pray for that.”
    She smelled of sea and salt and fresh air and woman, and his body yearned for her so hard he clenched his fists to keep them from trembling.
    He was not free to choose his own wife.

CHAPTER 8
    Noon light poured into the swimming pool, turning every metal and shiny thing into a small sun. As Alice watched Nixie and two girls from England play underwater tag, the fears that had kept her awake seemed like child’s nightmares. It was hard to be scared in a place where children splashed in the pool while the adults drank free colored drinks,