Levela and Jondecam held up their joined hands in welcome when Ayla and Jondalar arrived at the waiting area. “Did she say you were already Blessed, Ayla?” Levela said, rushing toward her.
Ayla nodded, a little too overcome with emotion to trust herself to talk.
“Oh, Ayla! That’s wonderful! Why didn’t you tell me? Did Jondalar know? You are so lucky!” she said, not giving Ayla time to answer and trying to give her a hug. But she forgot for a moment about the hand to which she was tied and got tangled up with Jondecam’s arm. They all laughed, including some who were nearby, and Levela ended up giving Ayla a one-arm hug.
“And your outfit is so beautiful, Ayla. I’ve never seen anything like it. It has so many ivory beads and ambers, in places it almost seems to be made out of ivory and amber. The leather is the perfect shade of yellow to go with it. And I love the way you wear it, open like that, especially since you are going to be a mother soon. It must be heavy, though. Where did you get it?” Levela said. She was so excited, Ayla had to smile.
“Yes, it is heavy, but I’m used to it. I carried it a long way. Nezzie gave this to me when she thought I was going to be mating a Mamutoi man, and she told me how to wear it. She was the mate of the headman of the Lion Camp. When I decided to leave with Jondalar instead, she told me to take it and wear it when I mated him. She liked him, they all did. They wanted him to stay and become Mamutoi, but he said he needed to go home. I think I understand why,” Ayla said. Several people were crowded around, listening. They wanted to be able to tell people what the foreign woman said about her richly made clothes.
“Jondalar looks wonderful, too,” Levela said. “Your outfit is exquisite because of the beadwork and decorations, the whole thing. Jondalar’s is a perfect contrast, stunning just because of the color.”
“That’s right,” Jondecam said. “All of us are wearing our best clothes,” he indicated his own clothing, “which usually means decorated, though no one has anything as incredible as your outfit, Ayla, but when Jondalar came out wearing that, everybody noticed. His tunic is simple elegance, especially on him. I know how these things work. All the women are going to want an outfit like yours, and all the men will want something white like his. Did someone give that to you, Jondalar?”
“Ayla did,” Jondalar said.
“Ayla! Did you make that?” Levela said, surprised.
“A Mamutoi woman taught me how to make white leather,” Ayla said. People were turning around, facing the next Zelandoni.
“We better stop talking, they are getting started,” Levela said.
After they quieted so the ceremony for the next couple could begin, Ayla thought about why the mating ritual included tying the wrists of the couples together with a thong that would be difficult to untie. The tangle of arms when Levela, in her excitement, rushed to hug her made her understand that being tied together forced one to consider the other before rushing ahead without thinking. Not a bad first lesson to learn about being mated.
“I wish they’d hurry,” one of the other newly mated men said under his breath. “I’m starving. With all this fasting today, I’m sure they could hear my stomach growling all the way in the back.”
Ayla was rather glad for the Zelandoni’s long recitation of the names and ties, it gave her time to think and be alone with her own thoughts. She was mated. Jondalar was her mate. Maybe now she could begin to feel that she really was Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, although she was glad that Ayla of the Mamutoi was a part of her names. Just because they were going to be living with the Ninth Cave didn’t mean she was a different person. She just had new names and ties to add to her list of connections and relations. She hadn’t lost her Clan totem, either.
Her mind wandered back to the time when she was a girl living with the Clan. When they mated, they had no such knot-tying customs, but they didn’t need them. From the time they were young, women of the Clan were taught always to be aware of the men of the Clan, particularly the one to whom they were mated. A good Clan woman was expected to anticipate the requirements and wishes of her mate, because a man of the Clan learned from an early age never to be aware of, or at least not to show that he was aware of, his own needs, discomfort, or pain. He could never ask for her help, she had to know when it was needed.
Broud didn’t need her help when he asked, but he made demands all the time. He invented things for her to do just because he could make her do them—bring him a drink of water, tie on his leg coverings. He could claim that she was just a girl and had to learn, but he didn’t care if she learned, and it didn’t make any difference when she tried to please him. He wanted to show his power over her because she had resisted him, and women of the Clan did not willfully disobey men. She had made him feel less than a man and he hated her for it, or perhaps at some instinctual level he knew that her kind were different. It had not been an easy lesson for her to learn, but she had learned, and it was Broud, with his constant demands, who taught her, but Jondalar was the recipient. She was always aware of him, and it occurred to her that was why she was always uncomfortable when she didn’t know where he was. She was that way about her animals, too.
Suddenly, as though thinking about him had made him appear, Wolf was there. It was her right hand and Jondalar’s left that were tied together, and she stooped down and hugged him with her left. She looked up at Jondalar.
“I’ve been worried about him, wondering where he was,” Ayla said, “but he seems rather pleased with himself.”
“Maybe he has reason,” Jondalar said with a grin.
“When Baby found a mate, he left. He came back to visit once in a while, but he lived with his own kind. If Wolf has a mate, do you think he’ll decide to leave and live with her?”
“I don’t know. You’ve said before that he thinks of people as his pack, but if he’s going to mate, it has to be with his own kind,” he said.
“I want him to be happy, but I would miss him so much if he never came back,” Ayla said, standing. Most of the people around her were watching her with the wolf, especially those who didn’t know her well. She signaled him to stay close to her.
“He’s a very big wolf, isn’t he,” one of the women said, edging back a little.
“Yes, he is,” Levela said, “but people who know him say he has never threatened people.”
At that moment a flea decided to annoy the wolf. He sat down, hunched himself around, and started scratching. The woman tittered nervously. “That certainly doesn’t look very threatening,” she said.
“Except to the bug that’s bothering him,” Levela said.
Suddenly he stopped, cocked his head as though he was hearing or smelling or perceiving something, then stood up and looked up at Ayla.
“Go ahead, Wolf,” Ayla said, signaling his release. “If you want to go, go ahead.”
He raced off, weaving his way around people, some of whom looked rather startled when they caught sight of him.
The next joining was not of a couple, but of a triple. One man was mating identical twin sisters. They did not want to separate, and it was not uncommon for twins, or just sisters who were close, to become co-mates, although it could be difficult for one young man to try to provide for two women and their children. In this case the man was a little older, well established, with a good reputation and high status. Even so, the chances were that they would bring in a second man someday, although one never knew.
By the time the final couple was reached, people were getting bored with the inevitable repetition, especially when the ceremony was for someone they didn’t know, but the last ones brought some interest again. When Joplaya and Echozar came forward, there was a collective gasp from the people watching and then a buzz of conversation. Though neither one of the two had the usual appearance of the Zelandonii, and the audience knew that they were in fact not Zelandonii but Lanzadonii, they were still a shocking sight for some of the people there.
They saw a tall, slender, exotically appealing woman with dark hair and an ethereal beauty that was hard to describe. The man beside her could not have looked more different. He was slightly shorter, with such strong and unusual features, most people saw them as ugly. His thick browridges, accented by heavy, unruly eyebrows, protruded like a shelf over his dark, deep-set eyes. His nose was prominent, partly because the front of his rather long and broad face jutted forward, and partly because his nose, sharply defined and shaped rather like the beak of an eagle, though not as narrow, was enormous, yet it was in proportion to the size of his face. Like many men, he usually let his beard grow in the winter, because it helped to keep his face warm, but he shaved it in summer. He had recently shaved and his heavy jaw was clearly defined, but like the people of the Clan, he lacked a chin—almost. He had the hint of one, but with his nose protruding out so far, he appeared to have a weak, receding chin.
Echozar’s face was the face of the Clan, except for his forehead. The definitive, pushed-back, and flattened look of the sloping foreheads of the Clan was missing; he was not a flathead. Above Echozar’s bony browridges, his forehead rose as high and round as any man’s there. And while the people of the Clan were rather short, he was as tall as many of the men there, but with a stocky, robust frame and a big, rounded chest typical of the Clan. Like theirs, his legs were short in proportion and slightly bowed, but as muscular as his arms. There was no question that he was a strong man.
And there was no doubt that he was a man of mixed spirits, to some an abomination, half man and half animal. There were those who believed that he should not be allowed to mate the woman who was standing beside him. No matter how foreign she looked, it was undeniable that she was human, one of them, not one of those flathead animals. The Zelandonii should be discouraging them, not recognizing them or aiding in such a joining.
Since the Lanzadonii had no donier of their own yet, the One Who Was First stepped forward again. She was not only First, but the Zelandoni of the Ninth Cave, and Dalanar had once lived with the Ninth Cave. He still had closer ties with them than with any other Cave, and Joplaya was the daughter of his hearth.
As the First took her place, she thought, smiling to herself, that Echozar looked so strong, not many people would be willing to challenge him one on one in an individual competition. Since they were the last couple to be mated, the First was thinking ahead to the contests. And, she thought, after they are mated might be a good time to announce that the First Acolyte of the Second Cave of the Zelandonii had been called, and after examination has proved to be Zelandoni. She has decided to return with Dalanar and his Cave and become the First Lanzadoni to Serve The Great Earth Mother, a good fit, and a good place for her to start out.
The donier looked at the people gathering around. Dalanar, standing there full of pride. It was amazing how much Jondalar looked like him, but the First was aware of some minor differences, probably because she had once been so intimate with the younger one. Jondalar, still tied to Ayla, had moved out of the group of newly joined and into the family circle. Joplaya was his close cousin, after all. Beside Dalanar was Jerika, Joplaya’s mother, and standing behind her was Hochaman, the man of Jerika’s hearth. He was leaning heavily on a young man who was unfamiliar to the First. She guessed he was originally a Zelandonii either from a far Cave or from some more distant people, perhaps the Losadunai, but the designs on his clothing and jewelry declared him as Lanzadonii.
Hochaman was an ancient, wizened little man with a face like Jerika’s, but he could hardly stand, much less walk. Dalanar and Echozar had carried him on their backs the whole way to the Summer Meeting. He told people he used up his legs on his Journey, but no one had ever walked as far. He had traveled all the way from the Endless Seas of the East to the Great Waters of the West, and spent most of his life doing it. He knew how to tell a good story, had many to tell, didn’t mind repeating them, and would probably be in demand after the ceremonies were over and the games and contests and Story-Telling could begin. The newly mated couples would have to forgo those events this year; they would be in the silence of their two-week trial period. The zelandonia chose that time on purpose. If a couple wasn’t serious enough about their mating to give up a few games and Story-Tellings, then they probably shouldn’t be getting mated.
The chanters were still maintaining their fugue, though it was an entirely different set of them now, as the First began the ceremony. “All Caves of the Zelandonii,” the donier’s voice was still resonant. “You are called upon to share in witnessing the joining of a woman and a man. Doni, Great Earth Mother, First Creator, the Mother of All, She Who gave birth to Bali, who lights the sky, and She Whose mate and friend, Lumi, shines down upon us this night in witness with Her. She is honored by the sacred joining of Her children.
“The two standing here have pleased the Great Earth Mother by choosing to join together.” The sound level from the audience rose with background comments. The ceremony went somewhat faster than the others, there weren’t as many names and ties; Echozar had almost none. He was Echozar of the First Cave of the Lanzadonii, Son of Woman, Blessed of Doni, accepted by Dalanar and Jerika of the First Cave of the Lanzadonii. Joplaya had a longer list of names and ties, mostly through Dalanar to the Zelandonii. Jondalar and Ayla were mentioned. Through her mother, only the names of Jerika’s mother, Ahnlay, who walked the spirit world, and the man of her hearth, Hochaman.
“I, Dalanar, Leader of the First Cave of the Lanzadonii, speak for this couple, and I am pleased that Joplaya and Echozar will continue to live at the First Cave of the Lanzadonii,” the leader said at the end, “and I welcome them.” Then he turned to face the people gathered behind him in the audience, the rest of the Lanzadonii who had come all the way to the Zelandonii Summer Meeting to help sanction the mating.
“We of the First Cave of the Lanzadonii welcome them,” they said in unison.
Then the Zelandoni Who Was First Among Those Who Served The Mother held out both her arms, as though trying to embrace everyone there. “All the Caves of the Zelandonii and the Lanzadonii,” she said, “Joplaya and Echozar have chosen each other. It has been agreed, and they have been accepted by the First Cave of the Lanzadonii. What do you say to this joining?”
There was a sizable number of the people there who replied, “Yes,” but also a segment that said, “No.”
Zelandoni was shocked and, for a heartbeat, at a loss. She had never officiated at a mating ceremony that was not seconded by all the people. If there were any objections, they had always been worked out beforehand. This was the first time she had ever heard a “no” from anyone. Dalanar and Jerika were both frowning, and many of the Lanzadonii people were looking around. Most appeared uncomfortable, some angry. The First decided to ignore the “no” and continue as if she hadn’t heard it.
“Doni, the Great Earth Mother, approves this joining of Her children. She has smiled on this union. She has already Blessed Joplaya,” she said. She signaled them to extend their hands. There was a moment of hesitation, then Joplaya and Echozar held hands and offered them to the Zelandoni Who Was First. She wrapped a leather thong around their joined hands and tied it with a knot.
“The knot has been tied. You are mated. May Doni always smile on you.” They turned around to face the people, and Zelandoni announced, “They are now Joplaya and Echozar of the First Cave of the Lanzadonii.”
“No!” came a shout from the audience. “They shouldn’t be. It’s wrong. He’s an abomination.”
Several people recognized the voice. It was Brukeval! The First again tried to ignore him, but another voice joined his.
“He’s right. They shouldn’t be mated. He’s half animal!” Marona said.
I can understand Brukeval, Zelandoni of the Ninth thought, but Marona doesn’t care. She’s just trying to cause trouble. Is she trying to get back at Jondalar and Ayla by humiliating his close cousin?
Then another voice joined in, from the area where the Fifth Cave was sitting. “They’re right. The Zelandonii should not be approving this mating.” It was a man who had tried to join the zelandonia but had been turned down. Malcontents seemed to be joining in just to make trouble.
A few others voiced a similar opinion, including Laramar. She recognized his voice, too. Why is he making a fuss? she wondered. Some of those who objected have strong feelings about it, but he doesn’t care about anything.
“Maybe you should reconsider this mating, Zelandoni,” another voice called out. It was Denanna, the leader of all three holdings of the Twenty-ninth Cave.
I have to put a stop to this, the First thought. “Why would you suggest such a thing, Denanna? These two young people have made their choice and it has been accepted by their people. I don’t understand your objections.”
“But you are asking us to accept it, not just their own people,” Denanna said.
“And most of the Zelandonii have. I know individually each person who has made an objection to this mating.” She looked up at the slope full of people, and though she couldn’t see much in the dark, the ones who objected had the distinct impression that she could, and that she was looking directly at them. “Most have their own reasons, which have nothing to do with this couple. Only a few genuinely hold strong feelings on this issue. I can see no reason why those few should disrupt this ceremony, offend the Lanzadonii, and embarrass the Zelandonii. Joplaya and Echozar are mated. When they have finished their trial period, their mating will be sanctified. There is no more to be said about it. It is now time for the procession, and the feast.”
She signaled the zelandonia, who organized the newly mated couples and led them around the fire, which was starting to die down. When they had slowly made five full circuits, they were led toward the area where food was being served to begin the feast and the celebration, but the joyous feeling of the Matrimonial had been dampened.
The ones who had been delegated began carving the massive haunches of aurochs that had been turned on spits, cooking over hot coals all day. Other, sometimes tougher cuts had been buried in pits lined with hot rocks, along with certain root vegetables. A soup thickened with daylily flowers, which also contained buds and small new roots from the plant, plus ground nuts, greens, fern fiddleheads, and onions, and was seasoned with herbs, was called “green soup.” It was traditional at the First Matrimonial feast of the season. The matured roots of daylilies and cattails, pounded to remove the fibrous material, were mixed with the first of the wild oat and black pigweed seeds, parched, pounded into flour, then baked into a kind of hard, flat bread and served with the soup.
The tiny red heart-shaped berries that grew close to the ground, and were covered with tiny seeds, were familiar to Ayla; she was delighted to see strawberries, piled fresh into bowls. Some that were picked earlier and were getting soft had been cooked into a sauce along with several other fruits and a plant with reddish-colored thick stalks, whose large leaves were always cut off and disposed of. The tart stalks added a pleasant tang to the berries and fruits, but the leaves could make one sick. There were also steamed young fireweed stalks, seasoned with salt from the Great Waters of the West, and watertight baskets of Laramar’s fermented barma.
As the festivities progressed and more fermented brew was consumed, the tension eased. Jondalar thanked Dalanar warmly, his eyes glistening, for coming so far to attend his mating.
“I would have come just for you, but we also came for Joplaya and Echozar. I’m sorry that it became unpleasant. I’m afraid it spoiled their mating, and maybe everyone else’s,” Dalanar said.
“There are always those few who try to spoil things for other people, but we won’t have to worry about coming back to Zelandonii Summer Meetings for our young people to get mated. We now have our own Lanzadoni,” Jerika said.
“That’s wonderful, but I hope you’ll come back once in a while anyway,” Jondalar said. “Who is it?”
“Lanzadoni. You know that,” Dalanar said, then smiled. “They are supposed to give up their individuality and become one with their people, but I notice they use the counting words to name themselves instead, and counting words have more power than ordinary names. She was the First Acolyte of the Zelandoni of the Second Cave. She will now be called the Lanzadoni of the First Cave of the Lanzadonii.”
“I know who that is,” Ayla said. “She was one of the acolytes who guided us into the Deep of Fountain Rocks when we went to help Zelandoni find the spirit of your brother. Do you remember, Jondalar?”
“Yes, I do. I think she will be a good Lanzadoni for you. She is very dedicated, and a good healer, I’m told,” Jondalar said.
As the evening grew late, the newly mated couples spoke the last words they would say to friends and relatives for fourteen counted days. To some it felt strange, like saying good-bye without leaving. Smaller feasts would be held by the individual Caves when the couples returned to the fold after the trial period of exclusion. Then they would be given gifts to start out their new lives together. The matings were not fully recognized until after the trial period, since they would be free to separate then, if they wished. Though the couples usually left early, for others the festivities would continue until the first streaks of dawn.
As Ayla and Jondalar left, they were hazed with crude comments and general banter by several hecklers who followed for a ways, mostly young men who had been indulging in Laramar’s barma. But many of them didn’t know Jondalar, except by reputation. He had been gone when they were growing up. Most of the friends his age were past the stage of harassing couples who had just made a commitment. They were already mated, with a child or more at their own hearths.
Jondalar got one of the torches that had been used to light the area of the ceremony to find their way and to light a fire when they arrived. They walked up the slope beside the small stream and stopped at the spring for a drink. Ayla didn’t know where they were going, but she knew when they arrived. The tent she saw was the same one they had used all during their long Journey, and she felt a pang of nostalgia at seeing it set up again. She was glad their long trip was over, but she would never forget it, either. She heard a nicker of welcome and smiled at Jondalar.
“You brought the horses!” she said, smiling with delight.
“I thought we might go for a ride in the morning,” he said, holding up the torch so she could see them.
The fireplace had been set and ready, and he lit the fire with the torch, then walked with her to greet the mare and the stallion. They were used to working together, with each doing separate tasks. Having their hands tied together made it more difficult even to handle the horses, and they found themselves in each other’s way.
“Let’s go get these thongs off,” Jondalar said. “I was glad enough to have them tied on, but now I’ll be glad to remove them.”
“Yes, but they are a good reminder to pay attention to each other,” she said.
“I don’t need a reminder to pay attention to you, certainly not on this night,” Jondalar said.
Ayla crawled inside the familiar shelter, holding her hand up and back so Jondalar could follow behind. He lighted a stone lamp with the torch, then tossed it into the fireplace outside. When he looked back in, Ayla was sitting on the sleeping furs that had been spread out on the ground over a leather padding that he had carefully stuffed with dry grass. He stopped for a moment and looked at the woman who had just become his mate.
The soft light of the lamp made her shadow dance behind her, and her hair gleamed with highlights from the small flame. He saw the yellowish tunic, open in front to reveal her full, taut breasts, with the beautiful amber pendant of the necklace nestled between them. But something was missing. Then he realized what it was.
“Where is your amulet?” he asked, drawing closer to her.
“I took it off,” she said. “I wanted to wear this outfit that Nezzie gave me and the necklace from your mother, and it didn’t look right with them. Marthona gave me a small packet made out of rawhide with no decoration for the amulet. It seemed appropriate. She brought it back to the lodge with her. She suggested that tomorrow we bring back the clothes we wore tonight, rather than carry them around with us. She did ask if I would mind if she showed my outfit to some people. I told her I wouldn’t mind at all, probably Nezzie would be pleased that she wanted to. I’ll get my amulet then. I have never been without it since I was first adopted into the Clan, and it does feel strange not to have it.”
“But you don’t belong to the Clan anymore,” Jondalar said.
“I know, and I never will again. I was cursed with death and can never go back, but the Clan will always be a part of me, and I will never forget them,” she said. “Iza made my first amulet and then asked me to choose a piece of red ochre to put in it.… I wish she could have been here. She would have been so happy for me. All of the things in my amulet are important to me, they mark important moments in my life. They were given to me by my totem, the Spirit of the Cave Lion, who has always protected me. If I ever lost my amulet, I would die,” she said with absolute surety.
It made Jondalar realize how important the amulet was to her, and how much her mating meant for her to take it off, but he didn’t like the idea that she believed she would die if she ever lost it. “Isn’t that just superstition? The superstition of the Clan?”
“No more than your elandon, Jondalar. Marthona recognized that. The amulet holds my spirit, that’s how my totem can find me. When I was adopted by the Lion Camp, it didn’t take away my life with the Clan. It added to it. That’s why Mamut added my totem to my formal name. Now that I have become a member of the Ninth Cave, it hasn’t changed the fact that I’m still Ayla of the Mamutoi. It just made my name longer,” she said, then she smiled. “Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, formerly of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi, Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth, Chosen by the Spirit of the Cave Lion, Protected by the Cave Bear, Friend of horses and Wolf … and mated to Jondalar of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii. If my name gets much longer, I won’t be able to remember it all.”
“Just so long as you remember the last part, mated to Jondalar of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii,” he said, reaching over and gently fondling a nipple, watching it draw together and harden in response to his touch. She felt a tingle of pleasure.
“Let’s get these thongs off,” Jondalar said. “They are getting in my way.”
Ayla bent over their wrists and tried to pick apart the knots, but only her left hand was free, and she was right-handed and felt clumsy trying to pull apart knots with only one hand, and her left one at that.
“You are going to have to help me, Jondalar,” she said. “I’m not very good at untying knots with just my left hand. It would be much easier to cut it.”
“Don’t even say that!” Jondalar said. “I never want to sever the knot from you. I want to be tied to you for the rest of my life.”
“I already am, and will always be, thong or not,” Ayla said, “but you’re right. I think this is meant to be a challenge. Let me see that knot again.” She studied it for a while, then said, “Look, if you will hold this, I will pull that, and I think it will come undone. It’s that kind of knot.”
He did as she said, she pulled, and the knot came apart.
“How did you know it would do that? I know something about knots and it wasn’t obvious,” Jondalar said.
“You’ve seen my medicine bag,” she said. He nodded. “You know all the pouches inside are tied with knots. The kind of knot and how many there are tell me something about what is inside the pouch. Sometimes those pouches need to be opened fast. I can’t be fumbling with trying to open knots when someone needs attention right away. I know about knots, Iza taught me long ago.”
“Well, I’m glad you do,” he said, holding up the long, slender thong. “I am going to put this in my pack so it doesn’t get lost. We have to show that it wasn’t cut, and exchange it for our zelandonia necklaces when we go back.” He rolled it up, tucked it away, and then turned his attention entirely to Ayla. “This is the way I like to hold you when I kiss you,” he said, putting both arms around her and filling them with her.
“That’s the way I like it, too,” she said.
He kissed her mouth, opening hers with his tongue, and reached for a breast. Then he pushed her back onto the furs and bent over to take the nipple into his mouth. She felt herself respond instantly, and the intensity of the sensations increased as he sucked and lightly bit on one nipple and caressed the other with his fingers.
She pushed him back and started pulling up the white tunic she had made for him. “What are you going to do when the baby comes, Jondalar? They’ll be so full of milk.”
“I promise not to steal too much, but you can be sure I’m going to taste it,” he said, smiling, then he pulled his tunic off over his head. “You’ve had one child. Does it feel the same when a baby sucks?”
She thought about it. “No, not exactly,” she said. “It’s pleasurable to nurse a baby, after the first few days. The baby sucks so hard, it makes the nipples sore at first, before they get used to it. But I didn’t get the same feelings deep inside me when I nursed a baby that I do when you suck. Sometimes when you just touch, I can feel it all the way down. That never happens with a baby.”
“I can feel it down inside me just looking at you sometimes,” he said. He took off the belt cinched around her waist, then opened her tunic and rubbed her slightly rounded stomach and caressed her inner thighs. He liked just touching her. He helped her slip out of her open tunic. She untied the thongs from around her waist and removed the rest of her clothes, then helped him untie his tightly wrapped foot coverings.
“I was so happy to see you wearing the tunic I made for you, Jondalar,” Ayla said.
He picked up the tunic that he had dropped on his bedroll, turned it inside out, and, folding it together, laid it carefully on top of his back frame before he began to unwrap his leggings. Ayla took off her amber-and-shell necklace and removed her earrings—her ears were still a little sore from the recent piercing—and put the jewelry away in her pack. She did not want to lose it. When she turned around, she noticed that Jondalar, who couldn’t stand in the tent, was stooping on one foot, pulling off his leggings, but his swollen member was more than ready. She couldn’t resist reaching for it, which unbalanced him. He fell over on the furs, both of them laughing.
“How am I supposed to get these off with you so eager?” he said, pushing off the remaining legging with his other foot and kicking them out of the way. Then he stretched out beside her on the sleeping furs. “When did you make that tunic for me?” he asked, raising up on one elbow so he could look at her. His deep, rich blue eyes were dark, with only hints of blue in the single flame, dilated and glowing as he looked at her with love and longing.
“When we were staying with the Lion Camp,” she said.
“But you were Promised to Ranec that winter. Why were you making a tunic for me?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I think I was hoping. And then I got a strange idea. I remembered that you said you wanted to capture my spirit when you made that little carving of me in the valley, and I was hoping that I could somehow capture your spirit if I made something for you. That time everyone was talking about black animals and white animals, you said that white was special to you. So when Crozie agreed to teach me how to make white leather, I decided to make something for you. Whenever I worked on it, I thought of you. I think I was happiest that winter when I was working on it. I even imagined seeing you wearing it at a mating ceremony. Making it kept my hope alive. That’s why I carried it with me on the Journey back.”
He almost felt his eyes grow moist.
“I’m sorry it isn’t decorated. I was never very good at sewing on beads and things. I started to do it a few times, but I always seemed to get interrupted. I did get some ermine tails on it. I wanted to get more, but never got back to do it that winter. Maybe next winter I can go out and find some more,” she said.
“It was perfect, Ayla. Just the white color was decoration enough. Everyone thought you left it undecorated on purpose, and they were so impressed. Marthona told me she liked the way you were not afraid to let quality and good workmanship be its own decoration. I think you are going to be seeing some white tunics around,” he said.
“When Marthona said I wouldn’t be able to see you or talk to you until after the ceremony, I was ready to break every Zelandonii custom there was just to give it to you. That’s when Marthona said she would do it, although I think she thought even that was too much contact. But I didn’t know if you liked it, and I didn’t know if you would understand why I wanted you to wear it.”
“How could I have been so stupid and blind that winter? I loved you so much. I wanted you so much. Every time you went to Ranec’s bed, I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t sleep, I’d hear every sound. That’s why I took you that day out on the steppe when we went out to train Racer. I could feel every movement of your body when we rode out together on Whinney. Can you ever forgive me for forcing you like that?”
“I kept trying to tell you, but you never would listen. You didn’t force me, Jondalar. Couldn’t you tell how quickly I responded? How could you think you forced me? That was my happiest day all winter. I dreamed about it afterward for days. Every time I closed my eyes I could feel you and want you again, but you wouldn’t come back.”
He kissed her then, suddenly hungry for her. Then he couldn’t wait. He was on top of her, pushing her legs apart, finding her warm, moist well and thrusting deep, feeling her warmth caressing his manhood. She was ready for him. She felt him penetrate and strained to meet him, and moaned as she felt his fullness inside her own engorged depths. He pulled back and entered again and again. As the pace quickened, she arched to force the pressure where she wanted it. There. That was right. She was so ready. So was he. Jondalar felt that he would burst with his fullness, and then, every nerve straining, aware of nothing else, the wondrous waves of Pleasure engulfed them both, bursting forth in glorious release. He thrust again a few more times, then collapsed on top of her.
“I love you, Ayla. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you. I will always love you, only you,” he said, holding her tight, his voice sounding strained with the intensity of his feeling.
“Oh, Jondalar. I love you, too. I always have.” There were tears in the corners of her eyes, partly from the fullness of her love for him, partly from the tension so quickly mounted and so suddenly released.
They lay quietly for a while in the light of the flickering lamp, then he raised up and slowly extracted his spent organ and rolled over to his side. He put his hand on her stomach again.
“I thought I might be too heavy for you. I don’t think I should put too much weight on you now,” he said.
“You are not heavy yet,” she said. “Later we can worry about finding ways to make it easier, when the baby starts to grow more.”
“Is it true that you can feel the life moving inside you?”
“Not yet, but before long I will. You will be able to feel it, too. You just have to put your hand on my stomach like that.”
“I think I’m glad you’ve already had one child. You know what to expect.”
“But it’s not exactly the same. I was really sick when I was carrying Durc, almost all the time.”
“How are you feeling now?” he asked, his worry frown evident.
“I feel wonderful. Even in the beginning I hardly had any sickness at all, and now that is gone.”
They were quiet then for a long time. Jondalar wondered if she had fallen asleep. He was just feeling like beginning again, taking more time, but if she was sleeping …
“I wonder how he is?” she suddenly said. “My son.”
“Do you miss him?”
“Sometimes I miss him so much, I don’t know what to do. At the meeting of the zelandonia, Zelandoni sang the Mother’s Song. I love that story. Whenever I hear it, I feel like crying when they come to the part about the Great Mother not being able to have Her son at Her side, how they are forever apart. I think I know how She felt. Even if I never see him again, I just wish I knew how he was, if he’s all right. How Broud and the others have treated him,” Ayla said. She was quiet again.
Her words set Jondalar thinking. “In the song it says the Great Mother struggled in pain to give birth. Is it very painful?”
“He was hard to deliver. I don’t like to think about it. But, like the Mother’s Song says, he was worth it.”
“Are you afraid, Ayla? Afraid to give birth again?” he asked.
“A little. But I feel so good this time, maybe this delivery won’t be so bad, either.”
“I don’t know how women do it.”
“We do it because it’s worth it, Jondalar. I wanted Durc so much, and then they told me he was deformed, that I couldn’t keep him.” She started to cry. Jondalar held her. “It was so awful. I just couldn’t do it. At least with the Zelandonii, the mother has the choice. No one will ever try to force me.”
They heard wolves howling in the distance, and another answering that was close by, but that howl was familiar. Wolf was nearby, but not in the tent with them. “I wonder if he will leave me, too,” she said.
She buried her head in his shoulder. Jondalar held her, comforted her. It is difficult being the honored of Doni, he thought. A blessing, but still … He tried to imagine what it would feel like to have a life growing inside him, but it was beyond him. Men did not have babies. Why did Doni make men, anyway? If there were no men, the women would be able to take care of themselves. Women are not all pregnant at the same time. Some of them could hunt and some could help the others when their bellies were big or their babies were small. Women always help each other when they give birth. They could probably survive even without hunting. Gathering is easier for a woman with small children anyway.
He had asked himself that question before, and wondered if other men ever asked themselves the same question. If they did, it was not something they ever mentioned out loud. Doni must have had some reason for making two kinds of people. There always seemed to be logic in what She did. The world was orderly. The sun rose every day, the moon went through its phases regularly, the seasons followed each other the same way every year.
Could Ayla be right? Was a man necessary for life to begin? Is that why there are both men and women? Jondalar struggled with his thoughts as he held the woman in his arms. He wanted there to be a reason for his existence, a real reason. Not just to enjoy Pleasures, not just to provide or help or support. He wanted his life to be necessary, his gender to be necessary. He wanted to believe that there would be no new life without men, that without men there would be no more children, that all of Earth’s Children would no longer exist.
He was so deep in thought, he didn’t notice when Ayla’s sobs ceased. He looked at her and smiled. She was breathing quietly, sound asleep. It had been a long day, she had gotten up early. He eased his arm out from under her, flexed it to restore circulation, and yawned widely. He was tired himself. He got up to extinguish the moss-wick flame of the oil lamp and felt his way in the darkness back to the sleeping woman and crawled in beside her.
In the morning, when Jondalar opened his eyes, it took him a moment to orient himself. He had grown accustomed to sleeping in the lodge at the camp; the inside of the tent was much closer. But the tent was even more familiar. They had slept in it together for a year. Then he remembered. They were mated last night. Ayla was his mate. He reached to his side, but she was gone. Then he smelled something cooking on the fire outside. He sat up and, without thinking about it, reached for his cup and was surprised to find it there, full of hot mint tea. He took a sip. It was just the temperature he liked, and beside the cup was a freshly peeled wintergreen twig. She had done it again, anticipated what he liked in the morning and had it ready for him. He still didn’t know how she did it.
He took another drink, then pushed back the sleeping furs and got up. Ayla was with the horses, and Wolf was there, too. He swished out his mouth, chewed on the end of the twig and used it to clean his teeth, and swished his mouth once more, then swallowed the last of the tea. He reached for his clothes, then decided it didn’t matter, no one else was around, and walked to her naked. She smiled at him and glanced at his organ. That was all it took, it started to grow. Her smile became a mischievous grin. He just smiled back.
“It’s a beautiful day,” he said as he approached her with his proud manhood jutting out in front of him.
“I was thinking that I’d like to go swimming with you this morning,” she said, watching him approach. “That pool that is upstream of the camp is not far from here, if we go the back way.”
“When do you want to go?” he said. “I smelled something cooking.”
She smiled slyly. “We could go now. I can move the food off the fire,” she said.
“Let’s do it, woman,” he said, taking her in his arms and giving her a kiss. “I’ll get some clothes, we can ride the horses there.” Then he smiled. “We can get there faster that way.”
Ayla took her pack, but they rode bareback. Within a few moments they reached the pool and left the horses free to graze. They spread a hide on the ground, then ran for the water, laughing. Wolf ran with them, but as they splashed into the pool, he followed another interest.
“This feels so good, so refreshing,” Ayla said, ducking down, then standing up again.
Jondalar ducked down, too. They swam across the pool, then back again. When they started out, he reached for her. “You feel good, too,” he said, “and I think you might taste good, too.” He picked her up and carried her out of the water and put her down on the hide. “Yesterday was too busy, today we have time,” he said, looking down at her with his amazing blue eyes. Then he bent down to kiss her, slowly, sweetly, pressing close to her, feeling their skin cool from the water and the body heat from within. He nibbled on her ear, kissed her throat, then reached for her breast and found her nipple. It was what he wanted, what she wanted.
He spent time, touching, squeezing, rubbing one between his fingers, sucking and nibbling on the other, and felt himself fill and get ready. To her, his touching and caressing gave her feelings through her body that felt like lightning, reaching into her parts of Pleasure. He rubbed her rounded belly and loved the feel of its swelling, knowing that inside a baby was growing, then he reached lower, for her rising mound, and the slit at the top.
She pushed herself toward him, and he found the small knob. The sharp pulses of feeling grew stronger inside her. Then he got up and moved around and positioned himself between her thighs. He opened her rose-colored folds and just looked for a moment. Then he closed his eyes and let his tongue find her taste. This was the woman he wanted, the one who tasted like her. This was his Ayla.
She held herself still, let him explore, find all the warm places, then he found the knob again and with his tongue began to play with it, moving it, rubbing it, sucking it. She began to moan, her mind in some other place, a place where Jondalar knew how to put her. She pushed up against him as he moved faster, and the moans escaping from her increased in pitch and intensity.
He could feel himself growing so full, and he ached to feel her envelop him, but first, he needed to feel her peak. It kept getting closer, the feeling that was ready to overcome her, and then, suddenly, it was there, bursting over the crest in rising and rising waves of Pleasure. And then she wanted to feel him inside her.
She pulled him up and helped him enter, and waited for the first satisfying push. He pulled back and pushed in again, and filled her again. He felt her warm folds embrace him as he plunged in deeply, completely. They fit together so well. This was the woman he wanted. She could hold all of him, he didn’t have to worry about his size. He pulled out almost all the way, then plunged in again, and then again, and each time she felt him, the sensation grew stronger, her breath expelled with a rising tone to match the feeling growing inside.
And then the pulsing grew until it flooded over him. He released as she reached her peak. He pulled out and pushed in again a few times, and then let himself go and relaxed on top of her. She didn’t want him to move. She loved the feeling of him on top of her like that. She wanted to savor the Pleasures and relax, too.
They went swimming again, but this time when they got out, Ayla took their soft drying skins out of her pack. They whistled for the horses and rode back to their campsite. Wolf was there, pacing around their tent, growling at something, and the horses seemed nervous.
“There’s something out there,” Ayla said. “Wolf doesn’t like it, and it’s making the horses nervous. Those wolves we heard last night, do you think it could be them?”
“I don’t know, but after we eat, why don’t we pack up the tent and go for a long ride,” Jondalar said. “Maybe spend tonight some other place.”
“That’s a good idea,” Ayla said. “We can stop by the lodge and leave our mating outfits, get the rest of our traveling things, and explore the area around here. When we come back, we can set up our tent near the pool. Hardly anyone goes there. And let’s take Wolf with us. Some pack might think he’s in their territory, and wolves will fight to defend their territory against other wolves.”