Zelandoni tried to find a time to speak with Ayla privately about the medicine that would prevent conception, but something always seemed to interfere. There were demands on Ayla’s time as well as hers. Because this was a community hunt that represented the entire Zelandonii, the First had to hold special ceremonies to make sure that the spirit of the aurochs would be appeased and major rituals to thank the Great Mother for the lives of all the animals who had sacrificed themselves so that the Zelandonii could live.
The hunt was almost too successful and it took longer than usual to accomplish everything that needed to be done. The meat was cut and the fat rendered and portioned out. Hides were either scraped and dried or rolled and stored in the underground ice cellars along with meat, bones and other parts, and most people helped, including the women who were to be mated. Mating could wait.
The First resigned herself to the delay, but she wished she had taken the time to talk with Ayla in more depth before they left the Ninth Cave, when it would have been easier to study the stranger and learn more about her. Who would have guessed that the young woman—at nineteen, still young, though Ayla seemed to think she was ancient—would possess so much knowledge? She had seemed so guileless, it made her seem inexperienced somehow. But Zelandoni was coming to understand that there was far more to Ayla than she realized. She knew that it was never wise to underestimate an unknown element, but she had not followed her own counsel.
And now the First was busy with another matter. The zelandonia decided to conduct First Rites before the Matrimonial, though generally it was afterward, for a very specific reason. Before their First Rites, all females were considered girls and were not supposed to share the Mother’s Gift of Pleasures. The Rites of First Pleasures was the ceremony where, under strict and careful supervision, girls were physically opened and became able to receive the spirits that would start a new life. Not until then were they fully women. But First Rites were always held during the Summer Meetings, and usually there was some period of time after their first moon time and before their First Rites when girls were in a kind of limbo. It was during this time that men found them incredibly appealing, probably because they were forbidden.
There was always a second ceremony at the end of the Summer Meeting for the girls who started their bleeding during the summer, but the long interval in between Meetings was difficult. Young men, and some not so young, were constantly after the pubescent girls, and festivals to honor the Mother during the year made the young women more aware of their own urges, especially those who reached menarche in autumn. No mother ever wanted her daughter to start her moon times then, with a whole winter of darkness and reduced outdoor activity ahead of them.
Though a stigma of shame was placed on those who did not wait until they had their First Rites, some girls, inevitably, did succumb to the persistent blandishments. But no matter how relentless the pressure, by yielding to it, the girls became ultimately less desirable as mates because it indicated a lack of sufficient self-control. To some, it seemed ultimately unfair to stigmatize a woman because as a girl she made what might have seemed at the time to be a naive transgression of accepted custom. But there were those who considered it to be an important test of basic character, of their inherent integrity, fortitude, and perseverance, which were considered important traits in women.
Mothers inevitably enlisted the aid of the zelandonia to try to conceal the indiscretion, and First Rites were conducted in any case because a young woman could not be mated without them. The zelandonia always tried to make sure that the men selected to “open” the young women who were already open would be discreet, so nothing would be divulged. But those who had yielded were known, not least to the zelandonia who were among those who privately believed the test to be revealing, and were at least suspected by many others.
This summer, however, a rare problem had arisen. One young woman, Janida of the South Holding of the Twenty-ninth Cave, who had not yet had her First Rites, was pregnant, and she wanted to mate the young man who had prematurely opened her. Peridal, also of the South Holding of the Twenty-ninth Cave, was not as anxious to mate her, though he had been inordinately persistent in pursuing her throughout the winter and had made extravagant promises. Reflection Rock was so huge with so many levels, it was too easy to find secluded places for their trysts.
In his favor, it was said that Peridal was quite young. He wasn’t sure he wanted to get mated yet, and his mother was not eager for her son to make such a commitment, particularly with a girl who had yielded. But the zelandonia were using all their persuasive pressure to encourage them to agree. While it was not essential for a woman to be mated when she gave birth, it was preferable for a child to be born to the hearth of some man, especially the first child.
The other side of the issue was that, generally, if a woman became pregnant before she was mated, she became more desirable, because she had already proven that she was capable of bringing children to a man’s hearth, but the stigma of shame for not showing enough restraint to wait until First Rites was strong. Janida and her mother knew it, but they also knew that if Janida was already Blessed when she mated, it was considered lucky and she ought to be looked upon with favor. They hoped that one would compensate for the other.
Many people were talking about the girl, some feeling one way and some the other, but most agreed that it was an interesting situation, particularly the approach that was taken by Janida and her mother. Those who took the side of Peridal and his mother felt that he was too young to assume the responsibilities of mating; others felt that if the Mother had indeed chosen his spirit to Bless the girl, then She must feel that he was capable of being a man of the hearth. And in spite of her lack of restraint, perhaps Janida was lucky, and Peridal should be glad to mate her. A few men were even considering the idea of mating her themselves, shame or not, if the boy didn’t want to. She must indeed be favored among the Blessed of Doni if she became pregnant so quickly.
The young women who were preparing for their Rites of First Pleasures were all housed in a special guarded lodge near the zelandonia lodge. It was decided that the young pregnant woman should stay with the other girls and go through the full ceremony, since she had to have First Rites before she could be mated anyway. It was felt that she needed to be taught what young women needed to know, but when she was moved in with the others, some of them objected.
“The Rites of First Pleasures is a ceremony to open a girl to make her a woman. If she’s already open, why is Janida here? It’s supposed to be for girls who wait, not girls who cheat,” one of them said in a voice loud enough for all to hear.
Several agreed with her, but not all. One of them countered, “She’s here because she wants to get mated at the First Matrimonial, and a girl can’t get mated until she’s had First Rites, and besides, the Mother has Blessed her.”
Others, some of whom had started their moon times not long after the previous Summer Meeting and were rumored to have experimented with some private opening rites themselves, tried to be more welcoming, but most felt a need to be careful. They knew their good names were likely to be dependent on the discretion of the man who was chosen for them, and he could be related to one of the girls who had waited. They didn’t want to offend anyone. They were more than aware that they could suffer a similar shame, and they were seeing the problems it could cause.
Janida smiled at the one who spoke up for her, but said nothing. She felt a little older and wiser than most of the girls in the lodge. At least she knew what to expect, not like the ones who waited and were both eager and worried, and she was gaining some courage for having faced up to all her detractors. Besides, she was pregnant, Blessed by Doni, no matter what anyone said, and she was at the stage in her pregnancy when she was awash with optimistic feelings. She didn’t know that certain hormones in her body had been activated by her pregnancy, she only knew she was happy to be having a baby and feeling content.
Although the girls were supposed to be in seclusion and well guarded, somehow the comments that had been made when Janida joined them, especially the phrase that First Rites were supposed to be “for girls who wait, not girls who cheat,” were reported all through the camp. When the First heard about it, she was furious. It had to be one of their own, the zelandonia, who had spread the word—no one else could have been that close—and she wished she knew who it was.
Ayla and Jondalar had been working on aurochs hides most of the day, first scraping off the fat and membranes from the inside, and the hair on the outside with flint-scrapers, then soaking them in a solution of the cow’s brains that had been worked by hand into a puree and mixed with water, which gave the hides an amazingly soft elasticity. Then the hide was rolled up and twisted to squeeze out as much liquid as possible, often using two people, one at each end. Small holes were then pierced all around the edge, about three inches apart. A rectangular frame that was larger than the full hide had been constructed out of four poles, and the wet skin was attached to the frame with a cord tied through each hole and pulled tight. Then the hard work began.
With the frame anchored securely, resting against trees or a horizontal beam, the hides were straked. A pole with a flattened, but rounded end was used to poke the hides as far as they would stretch, up and down, side to side, over and over, until after half a day of work the hide was finally dry. At that stage it was nearly white, with a soft and supple suede finish. It could have been made into something and worn, but if it got wet again, it would have to be straked all over again or it would dry into hard rawhide. In order for the hide to retain its pliable velvety texture even after washing, it had to go through another process. There were several choices, depending on what finished product was wanted.
The simplest was to smoke it. One method was to use a small conical traveling tent, block the smoke hole, and build a smoky fire inside. Several hides could be hung near the top, and the entrance fastened shut. As the smoke filled the tent and enveloped the hides, it coated each of the collagen fibers within the skin. After smoking, even if it got wet or was washed, the leather stayed supple. Smoking also changed the color of the hide, and depending on the type of wood used, it could range from shades of yellow through tan and taupe to deep brown.
Another process was to mix powdered red ochre with tallow—fat rendered in simmering water—and rub the mixture into the hide. It not only gave the leather a red color, which could vary in shade from bright orangy red to deep maroon, it also acted as a water repellent. A smooth stick or bone could be used to rub the fatty substance in, crushing the surface, burnishing it to a harder, shiny finish, making it almost waterproof. Red ochre inhibited bacterial decay and was also an insect repellent, including the small parasitic insects that lived on warm-blooded animals like humans.
Yet another process, not as well known and requiring more work, was to make the almost white natural color of the hide pure white. It was somewhat prone to failure because it was difficult to keep the hide supple, but it was stunning when successful. Ayla had learned the process from Crozie, an old Mamutoi woman. It started with saving her urine, then letting it stand until through natural chemical processes it became ammonia, which was a bleaching agent. After scraping, the hide was soaked in ammonia, then washed with saponifying roots that made a soapy lather, then softened with the brain mixture and burnished with powdered kaolin, a fine white clay mixed in very pure tallow.
Ayla had made only one white garment, and Crozie had helped her, but she had noticed a lode of kaolin not far from the Third Cave and thought she might try it again. She wondered if the lather she had learned to make from the Losadunai out of fat and wood ashes would work better than soaproot.
While she was working, Ayla heard some of the discussions about Janida and found the situation interesting because it was a fascinating insight into the traditions and customs of the Zelandonii. There was no doubt in her mind that Peridal had started the baby growing inside Janida, since both of them had indicated that no other man had penetrated her and Ayla was convinced it was the essences of men’s organs that started pregnancy. But as they were walking back to the camp of the Ninth Cave, tired after a day of working hides, she asked Jondalar about the Zelandonii insistence on First Rites before women were free to make their own choices.
“I don’t understand what difference it makes whether the young man opened her last winter, or another man opens her here, so long as she wasn’t forced,” Ayla said. “It’s not like Madenia of the Losadunai, who was forced by that band of young men before her First Rites. Janida is a little young to be pregnant, but so was I, and I didn’t even know what First Rites were until you showed me.”
Jondalar felt a great deal of empathy and compassion for the young woman. He had broken the accepted traditions of his people during his initiation into manhood, by falling in love and wanting to mate his donii-woman. When he found out that Ladroman … Madroman … had been eavesdropping on them, that he had actually hidden and watched them, then told everyone that they planned to mate, Jondalar went into a rage and hit him repeatedly, breaking his teeth. Madroman had also wanted Zolena for his donii-woman—everyone did—but she chose Jondalar and never Madroman.
Jondalar thought he understood why Ayla felt the way she did. She wasn’t born here and didn’t quite appreciate how the Zelandonii felt about the customs they had lived with all their lives, or how difficult it could be to go against the traditions you knew. He didn’t fully understand that she had broken Clan traditions and had paid dire consequences; she nearly died for it, but she no longer feared to question anyone’s traditions.
“People can be more tolerant of those who come from another place,” Jondalar said, “but Janida knew what was expected. I hope the young man does join with her and that they will be happy together, but even if he doesn’t, I hear there are some men who would gladly mate her.”
“I should think so. She’s a young, attractive woman who is going to have a baby that she can bring to a man’s hearth, if he’s worthy of her,” Ayla said.
They walked in silence for a pace, then Jondalar said, “I think this Summer Meeting’s Matrimonial will be remembered for a long time. There’s Janida and Peridal, who will probably be among the youngest to ever mate if they decide to do it, even without her early pregnancy. And I’ve just come back from a long Journey, and you come from a great distance away, so people will talk about that, but I don’t think anyone here understands how far it really was. Then there’s Joplaya and Echozar. They both have a background and kinship line unlike anyone else’s. I just hope that those few people who object don’t make it troublesome. I could hardly believe what Brukeval did. I thought he had more manners than that, in spite of how he feels.”
“Echozar was right when he said he isn’t Clan,” Ayla said. “His mother was, but he wasn’t raised by them. Even if they had taken him back, I think he would have found it difficult to live with them. He knows their signs, more or less, but he doesn’t even know that he’s using women’s signs.”
“Women’s signs? You never mentioned anything about that before,” Jondalar said.
“It’s subtle, but there is a difference. The first signs that all babies learn are from their mothers, but when they get older the girls stay with their mothers and continue to learn from them. The boys start doing more with the men, and begin to learn their ways,” Ayla said.
“What did you teach me, and the Lion Camp?” Jondalar said.
Ayla smiled. “Baby talk,” she said.
“You mean, when I was talking to Guban, I was talking baby talk?” Jondalar said, appalled.
“Even less than that, to be honest, but he understood. Just the fact that you knew something, that you tried to speak the correct way, impressed him,” Ayla said.
“The correct way? Guban thought his way was the correct way to talk?” Jondalar said.
“I suppose so,” he said, then smiled. “What do you think is the correct way?”
“The correct way is always whatever way you’re used to. Right now, the Clan way, Mamutoi, and Zelandonii are all correct, but after a while, when all I have spoken is Zelandonii for a long time, I will no doubt think that is the correct way, even if I don’t speak it correctly, and I probably never will. The only one I will ever know perfectly is the Clan language, but only of the clan I grew up with, and that’s not quite the same as the way they do it around here,” Ayla said.
As they reached the small stream, Ayla noticed the sun was going down and was caught up again by a glorious blaze of color in the sky. They both stopped to watch for a while.
“Zelandoni asked me if I wanted to be chosen for First Rites tomorrow, probably for Janida,” Jondalar said.
“She told you that?” Ayla said. “Marthona said the men are never told who they will be with, and they are never supposed to tell.”
“She didn’t exactly tell me. She said she wanted someone who would be not only discreet, but caring. She said she knew you were pregnant, and she thought I would know how to treat someone who might need the same kind of concern. Who else could it be?” he said.
“Are you going to do it?” Ayla said.
“I thought about it. There was a time when I would have been more than willing, eager, but I said I didn’t think so,” he said.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because of you,” he said.
“Me? Did you think I would object?”
“Would you?”
“I understand it is a custom of your people, and other men who are mated do it,” Ayla said.
“And you’d agree to it, whether you liked it or not, wouldn’t you?”
“I suppose,” she said.
“The reason I declined wasn’t because I thought you would object, although I probably wouldn’t like it if you decided to become a donii-woman for a season. It’s because I don’t think I could give her the attention she deserves. I’d be thinking about you, comparing her to you, and that would be unfair to her. I’ve always had more size than many, and I’d be withholding and trying to be careful and gentle, so I wouldn’t hurt her, and wishing all the time I was with you instead,” he said. “I don’t mind being caring and gentle, but we fit together. I don’t have to worry about hurting you, at least not now. As you get further along, I don’t know, but we can work something out then.”
She hadn’t realized how pleased she would be that he had refused. She had heard how attractive most men found those young women, and she wondered if she was feeling jealous. She didn’t want to be, she had heard what Zelandoni said at the women’s meeting, and she would not have objected if he had accepted the offer, but she was happy that he had not. Ayla couldn’t help but smile, a big radiant smile that almost matched the sunset, which gave Jondalar a warm glow.
All the couples who were to be mated met with the zelandonia the day following the Rites of First Pleasures ceremony. Most were young, but some were middle-aged, and a few were quite old, well over fifty years. Regardless of age, they were excited and looking forward to the event, and most were friendly to each other, the start of the special bond between people who were mated at the same Mating Ceremonial. Many lifelong friendships were established then.
Ayla left Wolf with Marthona, who said she would be willing to stay with him, though Ayla had to tie him down with a restraining rope to keep him from following her. Before she left, she noticed that Marthona was indeed a calming influence and he seemed more relaxed when she was with him.
When they arrived at the zelandonia lodge, Ayla saw Levela and a man she had not met. Levela waved them over and introduced everyone to Jondecam, a man of medium height with a red beard, a pleasant smile, and mischievous eyes.
“So you’re from Elder Hearth,” Jondalar said. “Kimeran and I are old friends. We got our manhood belts together. I saw him during the bison hunt. I didn’t realize he had become the leader of the Second Cave.”
“He’s my uncle, my mother’s younger brother,” Jondecam said.
“Uncle? You seem closer to age-mates,” Ayla said.
“He’s only a few years older than I am, more like an older brother. My mother was about the age of a girl during First Rites when her brother was born,” Jondecam said. “She was always like a second mother to him, even then. When his mother, my grandmother, died, my mother took care of him. She was pretty young when she mated, but her mate died early. I’m her firstborn, and I have a younger sister, but I hardly remember the man of my hearth. She was called to the zelandonia, and didn’t mate again.”
“I remember embarrassing myself,” Jondalar said. “I saw Kimeran’s mother and made some typical comment about the young attractive woman standing with the mothers, and wondering what baby was completing his manhood rites,” he smiled. “You can imagine how I felt when he said she was there for him. He was as big as I was! Then he told me she was actually his sister.”
After they had been there for a while and it appeared that the zelandonia were getting ready to begin, two more people arrived, the youngsters Janida and Peridal. The couple stood at the entrance looking nervous and a little scared, and for a moment seemed ready to bolt. Suddenly Levela left the group and walked quickly toward them.
“Greetings, I am Levela of the West Holding of the Twenty-ninth Cave. You are Janida and Peridal, aren’t you? I think I met you, Janida, when you came to harvest pine nuts at Summer Camp a year or two ago. I’m with Ayla and Jondalar. She’s the one with the animals, and he’s the brother of my sister’s mate. Come and meet them,” she said, and started leading them back. They seemed at a loss for words.
“She is Proleva’s sister, isn’t she?” Joplaya said quietly.
“Yes, I can see Proleva welcoming someone like that,” Ayla said.
“Joplaya and Echozar are here, too, they’re the Lanzadonii couple who came to be mated with us,” Levela was saying as they approached. “And here’s my Promised. Jondecam of the Second Cave of the Zelandonii, meet Janida and Peridal, both of the South Holding of the Twenty-ninth Cave.” Looking at the young couple, “That’s right, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Janida said, smiling nervously and frowning worriedly at the same time.
Jondecam held out his hands to Peridal. “Greetings,” he said with a broad smile.
“Greetings,” Peridal responded, taking his hands, though his grip was rather limp and he didn’t seem to know what else to say.
“Greetings, Peridal,” Jondalar said in turn, also holding out his hands. “Did I see you at the hunt?”
“I was there,” the young man said. “I saw you … on a horse.”
“Yes, and Ayla, too, I imagine.”
Peridal looked uncomfortable and at a loss for words.
“Did you have much luck?” Jondecam asked.
“Yes,” Peridal said.
“He killed two cows,” Janida said for him, “and one had a calf inside.”
“Did you know the skin of that calf will make wonderful baby clothes?” Levela said. “It’s so fine and soft.”
“That’s what my mother said,” Janida replied.
“We haven’t met,” Ayla said. She held out both hands. “I am Ayla, formerly of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi, but now of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii. In the name of the Great Earth Mother, Mut, also known as Doni, I greet you.”
Janida was a little shocked. She had never heard anyone speak so differently. There was a rather uncomfortable silence for a moment. Then, as though remembering her manners, she said, “I am Janida of the South Holding of the Twenty-ninth Cave of the Zelandonii. In the name of Doni, I greet you, Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii.”
Joplaya then stepped forward and held out her hands to the young woman. “I am Joplaya of the First Cave of the Lanzadonii, Daughter of the hearth of Dalanar, Founder and Leader of the Lanzadonii. In the name of the Great Mother, I greet you, Janida. This is my Promised, Echozar of the First Cave of the Lanzadonii.”
Janida looked directly at the couple, her mouth literally hanging open as she stared. She was not the first to look surprised, but she seemed less able to control it than most. Then, as though she suddenly realized what she was doing, she closed her mouth and flushed deep red.
“I’m … I am sorry. My mother would be so angry if she knew how rude I was, but I couldn’t help it. You both look so different, but you are beautiful and he is … not,” she said, then flushed again. “I’m sorry. I mean … I didn’t mean that … I just …”
“What you mean is she’s so beautiful, and he’s so ugly,” Jondecam said with a twinkle in his eye. He looked at them both and grinned. “It is true, isn’t it?” There was a moment of awkward silence, then Echozar spoke.
“You are right, Jondecam. I am ugly. I can’t imagine why this beautiful woman would want me, but I’m not going to question my luck,” Echozar said, then he smiled, and it lit his eyes.
Seeing a smile on a Clan face always startled Ayla. People of the Clan didn’t smile. To them an expression that bared the teeth was seen as a threat or a nervous display of subservience. But somehow the expression changed the configuration of Echozar’s face, eased the strong Clan features and made him seem much more approachable.
“Actually, I’m glad you’re here, Echozar,” Jondecam said. “Next to this big brute,” he pointed to Jondalar, “everyone looks bad, but you make me and this youngster look good! The women, on the other hand, are all beautiful.”
Jondecam was so ingenuous, he made everyone smile and relax. Levela looked at him with love in her eyes. “Why, thank you, Jondecam,” she said. “You have to admit, though, that Echozar’s eyes are as unusual as Jondalar’s, and no less striking. I have never seen such beautiful dark eyes, and the way he looks at Joplaya makes me understand why they are mating. If he looked at me that way, it would be hard to turn him down.”
“I like the way Echozar looks,” Ayla said, “but yes, his eyes are his best feature.”
“If we’re all going to say what we think, and get it out in the open,” Jondecam said, “you have an unusual way of speaking, Ayla. It takes a little getting used to, but I like it. It makes people take notice and listen. You must come from very far away, though.”
“Farther away than you can imagine,” Jondalar said.
“And I want to ask one more thing,” Jondecam added. “Where is that wolf? Other people have talked about meeting him, and I was hoping to meet him.”
Ayla smiled at the man. He was so straightforward and honest, she couldn’t help but like him, and so relaxed and comfortable with himself, he made everyone else feel the same way. “Wolf is with Marthona. I thought it might be easier on him and everyone else if he stayed away. But if you stop by the Ninth Cave’s camp, I’ll be happy to introduce him to you, and I have a feeling he will like you, too,” she said. “All of you are welcome,” she said, looking at everyone, including the young couple, who were actually smiling in a natural and relaxed way.
“Yes, by all means,” Jondalar added. He liked these couples that they had met, but particularly Levela, who was an outgoing and caring young woman, and Jondecam, who reminded him of his brother Thonolan.
They noticed that the First was standing in the center of the lodge, silently waiting for everyone’s attention. When she had it, she spoke to them all, telling them of the seriousness of the commitment they were making, repeating some of the things she had said to the women earlier, and giving them some instructions on what was expected of them at the Matrimonial. Then some of the other zelandonia told them where they were supposed to stand and explained where to walk and what to say. They went through a rehearsal of the steps and movements.
Before they left, the First spoke to them again. “Most of you know this, but I want to say it now so it is clear. After the Matrimonial, for a period of half of a moon’s cycle—approximately fourteen days using the counting words—the newly mated couples are not allowed to speak to anyone except each other. Only in the case of dire emergency are you to communicate with anyone else, and then only to a donier, who will decide if it was important enough to break the ban. I want you to understand why this is done. It is a way of forcing a couple together to see if they can really live with each other. At the end of the time, if they decide that their mating is incompatible, any couple can decide to break the tie with no consequences. It would be as if they had never mated.”
The Zelandoni Who Was First knew most of the couples looked forward to the ban, delighted with the idea of spending time together totally involved with only each other. But at the end, she knew, there would likely be one or two couples who would quietly decide to go their separate ways. She looked carefully at each person trying to judge which couples might last. She was also trying to assess which of the couples would not last even fourteen days. Then she wished them all well and told them the Matrimonial would be the following evening.
Ayla and Jondalar were not concerned that their time alone would prove their union incompatible. They had already spent the better part of a year with only each other for company, except for the brief stops at a few Caves along the route of their Journey. They both looked forward to their period of forced intimacy, especially since there would be no pressures to keep traveling.
After leaving the lodge, the four couples walked together toward their camps. Janida and Peridal turned off first. Before they left, Janida held out both hands to Levela. “I want to thank you,” she said, “for including us and making us welcome. When we walked in, it felt like everybody was staring at us, and I didn’t know what to do. But I noticed when we left, that people were looking at Joplaya and Echozar, and Ayla and Jondalar, and even you and Jondecam. Maybe everyone was staring at everyone else, but you were the one who made me feel a part of something, not separate and outside of it.” She leaned forward and brushed Levela’s cheek with hers.
“Janida is an intelligent young woman,” Jondalar said after they continued on. “Peridal is lucky to get her, and I hope he appreciates her.”
“There does seem to be some real affection between them,” Levela said. “I wonder why he was resisting the mating?”
“I would guess the resistance was more from his mother than from him,” Jondecam said.
“I think you are right,” Ayla said. “Peridal is very young. His mother still has a lot of influence on him. But so is Janida. How many years can each of them count?”
“I think both can count thirteen years. She just barely, he is some moons older, closer to a fourteen-year,” Levela said.
“I am an old man next to him,” Jondalar said. “I can count a double handful more, twenty-three years. Peridal hasn’t even had a chance to live in a fa’lodge yet.”
“And I am an old woman,” Ayla said. “I can count nineteen years.”
“That’s not so old, Ayla. I can count twenty years,” Joplaya said.
“What about you, Echozar?” Jondecam said. “How many years can you count?”
“I have no idea,” he said. “No one ever told me, or even kept track, as far as I know.”
“Have you ever tried to think back and remember each year?” Levela asked.
“I have a good memory, but childhood to me is a blur, each season just fading into the next,” Echozar said.
“I can count seventeen years,” Levela said.
“I’m a twenty-year,” Jondecam volunteered. “And here’s our camp. We will see you tomorrow.” They waved farewell with the beckoning come-back-to-see-us-again motion to the four who continued toward the combined camp of Zelandonii and Lanzadonii.
Ayla woke early on the day she and Jondalar were to be mated. The faint light that preceded the rising sun glimmered feebly through the cracks between the nearly opaque panels of the lodge, highlighting the seams and outlining the opening. She lay still, trying to distinguish details in the shadowy shapes silhouetted against the walls.
She could hear Jondalar’s regular breathing. She raised up quietly and looked at the face of the man sleeping beside her in the dim light. The fine straight nose, the square jaw, the high forehead. She remembered the first time she had studied his face while he slept, in the cave of her valley. He was the first man of her own kind she had seen, that she could recall, and he had been badly wounded. She didn’t know if he would live, but she thought then that he was beautiful.
She thought so still, although she had learned since that men were not usually called beautiful. Her love for the man swelled to fill her whole being. It was almost more than she could bear, almost painful, excruciatingly full, wonderfully warm. She could hardly contain herself. She got up quietly, dressed quickly, and slipped outside.
She looked out over the camp. From the slightly higher elevation of their campsite she could see The River Valley spread out before her. In the near darkness, the lodges appeared as black mounds rising out of the shadowy earth, each round structure with its center pole supporting the multidwelling units. The camp was still now, so different from the bustling, noisy, boisterous place it would be later.
Ayla turned toward the small creek and followed it upstream. It was growing perceptibly lighter, blotting out more of the twinkling sparks in the sky. The horses in their fenced-in enclosure noticed her approach and nickered softly in greeting. She veered toward them, ducking under the poles strung between posts that defined their area. She put her arm around the hay-colored mare’s neck.
“Today is the day Jondalar and I will be mated, Whinney. It seems so long ago that you brought him bleeding and almost dead to the cave. We’ve come such a long way since then. We’ll never see that valley again,” Ayla said to the horse.
Racer nudged her, wanting his share of attention. Ayla patted him, then hugged the strong, thick neck of the brown stallion. Wolf appeared from out of the woods, returning from his nightly hunting foray. He loped toward the young woman surrounded by the horses.
“There you are, Wolf,” she said. “Where have you been? You were gone this morning.” She caught a blur of movement among the trees out of the corner of her eye. She looked up just in time to see a second wolf, a dark one, dodge behind the thick underbrush. She bent over and cupped Wolf’s head between both her hands, massaging his furry jowls. “Have you found yourself a mate, or a friend?” she said. “Do you want to go back to the wild like Baby did? I would miss you, but I wouldn’t want to keep you from a mate of your own.” The wolf growled softly in contentment as Ayla continued rubbing him. He seemed to have no inclination at the moment to return to the shadowy figure in the woods.
The top edge of the sun appeared on the horizon. Ayla smelled the smoke of morning campfires and looked downstream. A few early risers were moving about now. The camp was coming to life.
She saw Jondalar coming toward her in long strides. His brow was wrinkled in concern. The expression was familiar. He is a worrier, she thought. She had become familiar with every line and movement of his face. She often watched him surreptitiously, her eyes always seeking him out wherever he was or whatever he was doing. He knotted his brow the same way when he was concentrating on a new piece of flint, as though trying to see the minute particles in the homogeneous material so he would know in advance which way it would shear. She loved all his expressions, but most of all she loved to see him smiling in his gentle teasing way, or looking at her with his eyes dilated, full of love and desire.
“I woke up and you were gone, Ayla,” Jondalar said as he approached.
“I woke up early and couldn’t go back to sleep,” Ayla said, “so I came outside. I think Wolf has a mate hiding in the woods. That’s why he was gone this morning.”
“That’s a good reason to be gone. If I had a mate, I wouldn’t mind running off with her to the woods,” he said, a smile erasing the worried frown. He put his arms around her and pulled her close to him, and looked down at her. Her hair was still tousled from sleep, falling loosely down her shoulders and framing her face in a mass of thick, dark blond waves. She had begun to wear her hair coiled neatly around her head in the manner of the women of his Cave, but he still loved it best when it was loose and free, the way it was the first time he saw her standing naked in the bright sunlight on the ledge in front of her cave in the valley, after she had bathed in the river below.
“You’ll have one before this day is through,” she said. “Where would you like to run off with her?”
“To the end of my life, Ayla,” he said as he kissed her.
“There you are! Remember, this is your mating day. No Pleasures until after the ceremony.” It was Joharran. “Marthona wants you, Ayla. She asked me to look for you.”
Ayla went back to the tent. Marthona had a cup of tea waiting for her. “This will have to do for your breakfast, Ayla. You are supposed to fast today.”
“This is fine. I don’t think I could eat today anyway. Thank you, Marthona.” She watched Jondalar leave with Joharran carrying several bundles and packs.
Jondalar saw Joharran signal to him from across a field as he was about to go into the lodge that he was sharing with several of the men who were going to be mated that night. Most of them had some relational tie with each other, and all of them had one or two of their closest friends or relatives with them. He had just taken all of the things that he would need for the fourteen-day trial period to a small tent that he had set up away from the Summer Meeting camps, near the back of the hill where the new cave was. Although he felt he could have brought the things Ayla would need as well, someone else would bring them later, as was customary.
He waited for his brother just outside the entrance to the lodge. The place was not much different from the bachelor fa’lodges he had often shared with young men at Summer Meetings, young men who wanted to get away from the watchful eyes of their mothers, mothers’ mates, and other people in authority. Jondalar recalled the summers spent in such a place with rowdy friends and often, temporarily, by various young women. There was usually good-natured rivalry between the lodges and the young men within them over who could entice the most young women to stay with them. The goal seemed to be for each man to have a different woman every night, except for the nights when they reserved it for the men only.
On those nights, no one slept until dawn. They drank barma, and wine, when they could get it. Some brought various parts of certain plants that were more usually reserved for ceremonial usage. The young men spent the night singing, dancing, telling stories, and gaming, usually mixed with a lot of laughter. On the nights when they invited women, the gatherings usually broke up sooner as couples or mixed groups left the party early for more private entertainment.
The men who were about to be mated were always subjected to jokes and comments from the others in bachelor fa’lodges, something Jondalar took in good humor—he had doled out his share—but the lodge he stayed in now was quieter and the men more serious. They were all facing the same event, and it wasn’t quite the joking matter that it was to the young men who were still uncommitted.
All the men who were mating had been banned from the zelandonia lodge where the women were staying, the couples were prohibited from contact with each other until the Matrimonial. While the men were also in lodges away from their camps, they had more freedom. They were not restricted from moving about, except to stay away from the women to whom they were Promised. The men stayed in several smaller dwellings, but all the women, and their close friends and relatives, shared the one lodge. Though the zelandonia lodge was bigger than all the others, it was more crowded than the men’s lodges, but the spontaneous outbursts and laughter that emanated from it always made the men curious.
“Jondalar!” Joharran called out to him as he neared. “Marthona wants to see you. At the zelandonia lodge, where the women are.”
Jondalar was surprised at the summons, but he hurried, wondering what his mother wanted. He tapped at the post outside the entrance of the lodge, and when the flap moved aside, he couldn’t resist craning his neck, trying to see in, hoping to catch a glimpse of Ayla. But Marthona was careful to close the opening behind her. She had a package in her hands, a package that was very familiar to him. It was the one that Ayla had so adamantly insisted on carrying with her on their entire long Journey. He recognized the covering of thin hides tied with cords. He had often been curious about it, but she had always evaded his questions.
“Ayla insisted that I give this to you,” Marthona said, shoving the package at him. “You know you are not supposed to have any contact with each other until the ceremony, not even indirectly, but Ayla said she would have given it to you earlier if she had known. She was very upset, almost in tears, and ready to break the prohibition herself if I didn’t give it to you. She told me to tell you it is for the Matrimonial.”
“Thank you, mother,” Jondalar said.
Marthona closed the opening before he could say another word. He walked away, looking at the package as he returned to the lodge. He hefted it to judge the weight, wondering what it could be. It was soft, but seemed rather bulky. That was one reason he couldn’t understand why she insisted on keeping it whenever they needed to lighten their load and make more room. Had Ayla carried this the entire way just to give it to him for their Matrimonial? he thought. It seemed too important to casually open it out in the open. He wanted to find a more private place.
Jondalar was glad the lodge was empty when he went in with Ayla’s mysterious package. He fumbled for a while, trying to untie the cord, but the knots resisted his efforts and he finally cut it with his knife. He peeled back the protective layers, then looked. It was white. He lifted it out and held it up. It was a beautiful, pure white leather tunic, decorated only with the black-tipped white tails of ermines. She said it was for the Matrimonial. Had she made him a Matrimonial tunic?
He had been offered several outfits to wear and had selected one that was elaborately decorated in the Zelandonii style. But this one was entirely different. The white tunic was cut more in the style of the Mamutoi, but their clothing was usually quite intricately decorated, too, often with beads of ivory, shells, and various other materials. This one had no decoration at all, except for a few ermine tails, but it was genuinely outstanding because of its color. The tunic was a pure, shining white, the most difficult of all shades to color leather, and stunning in its simplicity, because there was no decoration to detract from the purity of the color.
When did she make this? he thought. It could not have been made while they were traveling. There was no time, and besides, she had carried that package with her from the beginning. She must have made it the winter they were living with the Mamutoi, with the Lion Camp. But that was the winter she had Promised to mate with Ranec. Jondalar held the tunic up to himself. It was definitely his size, it would have been much too big for Ranec, who was a shorter man with a more compact body.
Why had she made a tunic for him, especially such a beautiful one, if she was planning to stay with the Mamutoi and live with Ranec? Jondalar clutched the tunic while his mind raced. It was so soft and supple. Her leather always had that quality, but how long had she spent working the leather to make it so soft? And the color. Where had she learned to make white leather? From Nezzie, perhaps? Then he remembered seeing Crozie, the old woman from the Crane hearth, wearing a white outfit at one of the ceremonies when everyone wore their finest clothing. Could Ayla have learned it from her? He couldn’t recall ever seeing her working on white leather, but then, maybe he just hadn’t been paying attention.
He pulled the silky ermine tails through his fingers. Where had she gotten ermine tails? Then he remembered that she had returned with some ermines the same day she brought the tiny living wolf cub back to the earthlodge. He smiled, remembering what a commotion that had caused. But they had argued—well, he had argued, it was his fault—and he had already moved to the cooking hearth by then. She was visiting Ranec’s hearth at night. They were almost Promised. Yet she had probably spent many, many days making this soft, beautiful white tunic for him. Did she love him so much even then?
Jondalar’s eyes misted, he was near tears. He knew he had been the one who had treated her coldly. It was his jealousy and, more than that, his fear of what his people would say if they knew who had raised her. He had driven her into the arms of another man, yet she had still spent long days making this garment for him, and then she’d carried it all the way here just to give it to him for their Matrimonial. No wonder she was upset and ready to defy the ban against seeing him to make sure he got it.
He looked at it again. It was not even wrinkled. She must have found some place to straighten it, steam it, after they arrived. He held the tunic to himself, feeling its softness, and almost felt that he was holding her, so much of her went into the making of it. He would have been happy to wear it even if it wasn’t so beautiful.
But it was beautiful. The clothes he had chosen to wear for his Matrimonial, for all their decoration, now seemed drab by comparison. Jondalar wore clothes well, and he knew it. He had always secretly prided himself on it, and on his choice of clothing. It was a small vanity that he had learned at his mother’s knee, and no one was more gracefully elegant than Marthona. He wondered if she had seen the tunic. Somehow he doubted it. She would have appreciated its stunning subtlety, with the ermine tails giving it just the right touch, and she would have given him some look, some hint.
He looked up as Joharran came into the tent. “There you are, Jondalar. I seem to be spending this day looking for you. You are needed for some special instructions.” He noticed the white garment. “What do you have there?” he asked.
“Ayla made me a Matrimonial tunic. That’s why mother wanted to see me, to give me this.” He held it up in front of himself.
“Jondalar! That is exceptional!” his brother said. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen white leather so well made. You always have liked to dress well, but in that, you are really going to stand out. There is going to be more than one woman who will wish she were in Ayla’s place. But there is more than one man who wouldn’t mind being in yours, your big brother included—if it weren’t for Proleva, of course.”
“I am lucky. You don’t even know how lucky, Joharran.”
“Well, I want to say, I wish both of you much happiness. I haven’t really had the opportunity to tell you before. I used to worry about you sometimes. Especially after that … problem you had, when you were sent away. When you came back, you always had women, but I wondered if you would ever find a woman that you would be happy with. You would have mated eventually, I’m sure, but I didn’t know if you would ever find the kind of happiness you can have with a good mate like Proleva. I never did think Marona was the right kind of woman for you,” Joharran said. Jondalar was moved.
“I know I’m supposed to be making jokes about how sorry you’ll be now that you’ve tied yourself to the responsibilities of a hearth,” Joharran continued, “but I will tell you truthfully, Proleva has made my life very happy, and her son brings a special warmth you can get no other way. Did you know she is expecting another?”
“No, I didn’t. Ayla is expecting, too. Our mates will have children who are close to the same age, they will be like hearth cousins,” Jondalar said with a big grin.
“I feel certain that Proleva’s son is the result of my spirit, and I hope the one she is carrying will be, but even if they aren’t, the children of his hearth can give a man such pleasure, such a special feeling, it’s hard to describe. Looking at Jaradal fills me with such pride and joy.”
The two men clasped each other by the shoulders, then hugged. “All this confessing of deep feelings from my big brother,” Jondalar said to the slightly shorter man, smiling. Then his expression became more serious. “I’ll tell you truthfully, Joharran. I have often envied your happiness, even before I left, before there were any children. I knew then Proleva would be a good woman for you. She makes your hearth a warm and welcome place. And just in the short time since I’ve returned, I have come to enjoy that little one of hers. And Jaradal looks like you.”
“You’d better go, Jondalar. I was told to hurry you along.”
Jondalar folded the white tunic, wrapped it loosely in its soft leather covering, and laid it carefully on his bedroll, then he left with his brother, but he looked back over his shoulder at the package, eager to try the white tunic on, the tunic he would wear when he and Ayla were mated.