After the meal Losaduna announced that something was being offered at the Ceremonial Hearth. Ayla and Jondalar didn’t understand the word, but they soon learned it was a drink that was served warm. The taste was pleasant and vaguely familiar. Ayla thought it might be some kind of mildly fermented fruit juice flavored with herbs. She was surprised to learn from Solandia that birch sap was a primary ingredient, though fruit juice was only part of the recipe.
It turned out that the taste was deceiving. The drink was stronger than Ayla had thought, and when she asked, Solandia confided that the herbs contributed a large measure of its potency. Then Ayla realized that the vaguely familiar taste came from wormwood artemisia, a very powerful herb that could be dangerous if too much was taken, or if it was used too frequently. It had been difficult to detect because of the pleasant-tasting but highly perfumed woodruff and other aromatic flavors. It made her wonder what else was in it, which led her to taste and analyze the drink more seriously.
She asked Solandia about the powerful herb, mentioning its possible dangers. The woman explained that the plant, which she called absinthe, was seldom used except in that drink, reserved only for Mother Festivals. Because of its sacred nature, Solandia was usually reluctant to reveal the specific ingredients in the drink, but Ayla’s questions were so precise and knowledgeable that she couldn’t help but answer. Ayla discovered that the beverage was not at all what it seemed. What she had first thought to be a simple, pleasant-tasting, mild drink was in fact a potent, complex mixture made especially to encourage the relaxation, spontaneity, and warm interaction that were desirable during the Festival to Honor the Mother.
As the people of the Cave began coming into the Ceremonial Hearth, Ayla first noticed a heightened awareness as a result of all her tasting, but it soon gave way to a pleasant, languorous, warm feeling that made her forget about analyzing. She noticed Jondalar and several others talking to Madenia, and, abruptly leaving Solandia, she headed toward them. Every man there saw her coming and liked what he saw. She smiled as she approached the group, and Jondalar felt the powerful love her smile always evoked. It was not going to be easy to follow Losaduna’s instructions and encourage her to experience the Mother Festival fully, even with the relaxing drink that the One Who Served the Mother had urged on him. He took a deep breath, then downed the balance of the liquid in his cup.
Filonia, and especially her mate, Daraldi, whom she had met earlier, were among those who greeted Ayla warmly.
“Your cup is empty,” he said, dipping out a ladleful from a wooden bowl and filling Ayla’s cup.
“You can pour a little more for me, too,” Jondalar said in an overly hearty voice. Losaduna noticed the man’s forced friendliness, but he didn’t think the others would pay much attention. There was one who did, however. Ayla glanced at him, saw his jaw working, and knew something was bothering him. She caught Losaduna’s quick observation, too. Something was going on between them, she realized, but the drink was having its effect on her, and she put it in the back of her mind to think about later. Suddenly drumbeats filled the enclosed space.
“The dancing is starting!” Filonia said. “Come on, Jondalar. Let me show you the steps.” She took his hand and led him toward the middle of the area.
“Madenia, you go along, too,” Losaduna urged.
“Yes,” Jondalar said. “You come, too. Do you know the steps?” He smiled at her, and Ayla thought he seemed to relax.
Jondalar had been talking and paying attention to Madenia throughout the day, and though she had felt shy and tongue-tied, she had been acutely conscious of the tall man’s presence. Every time he looked at her with his compelling eyes, she had felt her heart race. When he took her hand to lead her to the dancing area, she felt a tingling of chills and heat at the same time, and she could not have resisted even if she had tried.
Filonia frowned for a moment, but then smiled at the girl. “We can both teach him the steps,” she said, leading them to the dancing area.
“May I show …” Daraldi started to say to Ayla, just as Laduni said, “I would be happy …” They smiled at each other, trying to give each other a chance to speak.
Ayla’s smile took them both in. “Perhaps both of you could show me the steps,” she said.
Daraldi bobbed his head in agreement, and Laduni gave her a happy grin as they each took one of her hands and led her toward the area where the dancers were gathering. While they were arranging themselves in a circle, the visitors were shown some basic steps; then they all joined hands as a flute sounded. Ayla was startled by the sound. She hadn’t heard a flute since Manen’s playing at the Summer Meeting of the Mamutoi. Had it been less than a year since they left the Meeting? It seemed so long ago, and she would never see them again.
She blinked away tears at the thought, but as the dancing began, she had little time to dwell on poignant reminiscences. The rhythm was easy to follow in the beginning, but became faster and more complex as the evening progressed. Ayla was unquestionably the center of attention. Every man found her irresistible. They crowded around her, vying for her attention, making innuendos and even blatant invitations thinly veiled as jokes. Jondalar flirted gently with Madenia and more obviously with Filonia, but he was aware of every man circling around Ayla.
The dancing became more complicated, with intricate steps and changing of places, and Ayla danced with them all. She laughed at their jokes and bawdy remarks as people broke away to refill their cups, or couples retreated to secluded corners. Laduni jumped into the middle and did an energetic solo performance. Toward the end, his mate joined him.
Ayla was feeling thirsty, and several people went with her to get another drink. She found Daraldi walking beside her.
“I would like some, too,” Madenia said.
“I’m sorry,” Losaduna said, putting his hand over her cup. “You have not had your Rites of First Pleasures, yet, my dear. You will have to settle for tea.” Madenia frowned and started to object; then she went to get a cup of the innocuous beverage she had been drinking.
He did not intend to allow her any of the privileges of womanhood until she went through the ceremony that bestowed womanhood, and he was doing everything he could to encourage her to agree to the important ritual. At the same time, he was letting everyone know that in spite of her terrible experience, she had been purified, restored to her former state, and was to be subject to the same restrictions and treated with the same special care and attention given to any other girl on the verge of becoming a woman. He felt it was the only way she would ever fully recover from the unconscionable attack and multiple rape she had suffered.
Ayla and Daraldi were the last to drink, and as everyone else wandered away in one direction or the other, they were left alone. He turned to her.
“Ayla, you are such a beautiful woman,” he said.
When she was growing up she had always been the tall, ugly one, and as many times as Jondalar had told her she was beautiful, she always thought it was because he loved her. She didn’t think of herself as beautiful, and his comment surprised her.
“No,” she said, laughing. “I’m not beautiful!”
Her remark took him aback. It wasn’t what he had expected to hear.
“But … but, you are,” he said.
Daraldi had been trying to interest her all evening, and though her conversation was friendly and warm, and she obviously enjoyed the dancing, moving with a natural sensuality that encouraged his efforts, he hadn’t been able to strike the spark that would lead to further advances. He knew he was not an unattractive man, and this was a Mother Festival, but he couldn’t seem to make his desires known. Finally he decided on a more direct approach.
“Ayla,” he said, putting his arm around her waist. He felt her stiffen for a moment, but he persisted, leaning over to nuzzle her ear. “You are a beautiful woman,” he whispered.
She turned to face him, but instead of leaning toward him in a willing response, she pulled back. He put his other arm around her waist to bring her closer. She leaned back and put her hands on his shoulders and looked him full in the face.
Ayla hadn’t quite understood the real meaning of the Mother Festival. She had thought it was just a warm and friendly gathering, even though they had talked about “honoring” the Mother and she knew what that usually meant. As she had noticed couples, and sometimes three or more, retiring to the darker areas around the hide partitions, she was getting more of an idea, but it wasn’t until she looked at Daraldi and saw his desire that she finally knew what he expected.
He pulled her toward him and leaned forward to kiss her. Ayla felt a warmth for him, and she responded with some feeling. His hand found her breast, and then he tried to reach under her tunic. He was attractive, the feeling wasn’t unpleasant, she was relaxed and in the mood to be willing, but she wanted time to think. It was hard to resist, her mind was not clear; then she heard rhythmic sounds.
“Let’s go back to the dancers,” she said.
“Why? There aren’t many left dancing anyway.”
“I want to do a Mamutoi dance,” she said. He acquiesced. She had responded; he could wait a little longer.
When they reached the central area, Ayla noticed that Jondalar was still there. He was dancing with Madenia, holding both her hands and showing her a step he had learned from the Sharamudoi. Filonia, Losaduna, Solandia, and a few others were clapping their hands nearby; the flute player and the one beating the rhythms had found partners.
Ayla and Daraldi joined in clapping their hands together. She caught Jondalar’s eye and changed from slapping both hands together to slapping her thighs, in the Mamutoi style. Madenia stopped to look, then backed away as Jondalar joined Ayla in a complicated thigh-slapping rhythm. Soon they were moving together, then backing away and around each other, looking at each other over their shoulders. When they came face-to-face, they reached for each other’s hands. From the moment she caught his eye, Ayla saw no one but Jondalar. The generalized warmth and friendliness she had felt for Daraldi was lost in her overpowering response to the desire, the need, and the love in the blue, blue eyes looking at her at that moment.
The intensity between them was apparent to everyone. Losaduna watched them closely for a while, then nodded imperceptibly. It was clear that the Mother was making Her wishes known. Daraldi shrugged his shoulders, then smiled at Filonia. Madenia’s eyes opened wide. She knew she was seeing something rare and beautiful.
When Ayla and Jondalar stopped dancing, they were in each other’s arms oblivious to everyone around them. Solandia started clapping and soon all of those who were left joined in the applause. The sound finally reached them. They backed away from each other, feeling a bit self-conscious.
“I think there is still a drink or two left,” Solandia said. “Shall we finish it off?”
“That’s a good idea!” Jondalar said, his arm around Ayla. He wasn’t about to let her go now.
Daraldi picked up the large wooden bowl to pour out the last of the special drink, then looked at Filonia. I’m really very lucky, he thought. She is a beautiful woman, and she has brought two children to my hearth. Just because it was Mother Festival didn’t mean he had to honor Her with someone other than his mate.
Jondalar finished his drink in one swallow, put his cup down, then suddenly picked Ayla up and carried her to their bed. She felt strangely giddy, full of joy, almost as though she had escaped some unpleasant fate, but her joy was nothing to Jondalar’s. He had watched her all night, seen the way all the men wanted her, tried to give her every opportunity as Losaduna had advised, and was sure she would end up choosing someone else.
He could have gone with someone else many times himself, but he wouldn’t leave until he was sure she was gone. Instead, he stayed with Madenia, knowing she was not available to any man yet. He enjoyed paying attention to her, seeing her relax around him, appreciating the beginnings of the woman she was going to be. Although he wouldn’t have blamed Filonia if she had gone with someone else, and she had many opportunities, he was glad she’d stayed near him. He would have hated being left alone if Ayla had chosen someone else. They talked about many things. Thonolan and their travels together, her children, especially Thonolia, and Daraldi and how much she cared for him, but Jondalar couldn’t bring himself to speak very much about Ayla.
Then, in the end, when she came to him, he could hardly believe it. He laid her down carefully on their sleeping platform, looked at her and saw the love in her eyes, and felt an aching soreness in his throat as he held back tears. He had done everything Losaduna had said, given her every chance, even tried to encourage her, but she had come to him. He wondered if that was a sign from the Mother telling him that if Ayla became pregnant, it would be a child of his spirit?
He changed the position of the movable privacy screens, and when she started to get up and remove her clothes, he gently pushed her back down. “Tonight is mine,” he said. “I want to do it all.”
She lay back down and nodded with a little smile, feeling a thrill of anticipation. He went outside the screens, brought back a lighted stick, lit a small lamp, and set it in a niche. It didn’t shed much light, just enough to barely see. He started to remove her clothes, then stopped.
“Do you think we could find our way to the hot springs with this?” he asked, indicating the lamp.
“They say it drains a man, makes his manhood soften,” Ayla said.
“Believe me, that won’t happen tonight,” he said, with a grin.
“Then I think it might be fun,” she said.
They put on their parkas, picked up the lamp, and quietly headed outside. Losaduna wondered if they were going to relieve themselves, then thought again, and he smiled. The hot springs had never slowed him down for very long. It just gave him a little extra measure of control sometimes. But Losaduna was not the only one watching them go.
Children were never excluded from Mother Festivals. They learned the skills and activities they were expected to know as adults by watching adults. When they played games, they often mimicked their elders, and before they were actually capable of any serious sexual acts, boys bounced on girls in imitation of their fathers, and girls pretended to give birth to dolls in imitation of their mothers. Soon after they were capable, they passed into adulthood with rituals that not only brought them adult status but adult responsibilities, although they didn’t necessarily choose a mate for several years. Babies were born in their own time, when the Mother chose to bless a woman, but surprisingly were seldom born to very young women. All babies were welcomed, supported, and cared for by the extended family and close friends that made up a Cave.
Madenia had observed Mother Festivals as long as she could remember, but this time it took on new meaning. She had watched several of the couples—it did not seem to hurt anyone, not the way she had been hurt, even when some of the women chose several men—but she was particularly interested in Ayla and Jondalar. As soon as they left the cave, she put on her parka and followed them.
They found their way to the double-walled tent and went into the second enclosure, welcoming the steamy warmth. They stood just inside, looked around, then put the lamp down on the raised earth altar. They took off their outer parkas and sat down on the felted wool pads that covered the ground.
Jondalar began by taking off Ayla’s boots; then he removed his own. He kissed her long and lovingly, while he undid the fastenings on her tunic and undergarment, and pulled them up over her head, then bent down to kiss each nipple. He untied her fur-lined leggings and breech-cloutlike underwear and pulled them off, stopping to caress her mound covered with soft hair—they hadn’t bothered to put on their outer leggings with the fur facing out. Then he undressed himself and took her in his arms, delighting in the feel of her skin next to his, and wanted her that instant.
He led her into the steaming pool, they immersed once, then went to the washing area. Jondalar scooped out a handful of soft soap from the bowl and began rubbing it over Ayla’s back and her twin mounds, avoiding her enticingly warm, moist places for the moment. It was smooth and slippery, and he loved the way it felt on her skin. Ayla closed her eyes, felt his hands caress her in the way he knew best to please her, and gave herself over to his wonderfully smooth touch, feeling every tingling sensation.
He took another handful and smoothed it on her legs, lifting each foot and feeling her slight spasm at the tickling of the bottom of her feet. Then he turned her around and faced her front, but took time to kiss her, gently and slowly exploring her lips and her tongue, feeling her response. His own response had swelled, and his manhood seemed to move of its own volition, striving to reach her.
With another small handful of soap, he started under her arms, caressing with the delightful slippery foam down to her full firm breasts, feeling her nipples harden under his palms. Shivers, like lightning, raced through her body when he touched her amazingly sensitive nipples, and found the place deep inside her that wanted him. When he moved down to her stomach and her thighs, she moaned with anticipation. With hands still soapy, he caressed her folds and found her place of Pleasures, rubbing just lightly. Then he picked up the rinsing bowl, filled it with water from the hot pool, and began pouring it over her. He poured several more bowlfuls over her before he led her back into the hot water.
They sat on the stone seats and held each other close, pressing warm skin against warm skin, and dunking under until only their heads were above the water. Then, taking her hand, Jondalar led Ayla out of the water once more. He laid her down on the soft mats, and just looked at her for a while, glowing and wet, and waiting for him.
To her surprise, he spread her thighs first and ran his tongue the full length of her folds. He tasted no salt, and her special taste was gone; it was a new experience, to taste her without tasting her, but as he reveled in the novelty of it, he heard her begin to moan and cry out. It had seemed so sudden, but she realized she was so ready. She felt her excitement build, and reach a peak, then spasms of delight washed over her again and again, and suddenly he tasted her.
She reached for him, and as he mounted and penetrated, she guided him inside. She pressed up as he plunged down, and they sighed with deep satisfaction. As he pulled out, she ached to have him back. He felt her full warm caress enclose his member completely, and he nearly reached his pulsing burst. When he pulled back again, he knew he was ready, as a high-pitched moan escaped his lips. She pulled up to him and he was ready as the bursting momentum escaped and filled her deep well and mixed with her own warm wetness and he cried out the fullness of her joy.
He rested on her for a time, because he knew she loved his weight on her then. When he finally rolled over, he looked down at her and saw her languid smile and had to kiss it. Their tongues explored, softly, gently, without prodding, and she began to feel a touch of excitement again. He noticed her heightened response and responded in kind. Without the great urgency this time, he kissed her mouth, then each of her eyes, and found her ears, and the tender, ticklish places of her throat. He moved lower and found her nipple. In no hurry, he suckled and nibbled on one while he fondled and squeezed the other, then traded off, until she was pressing herself to him, wanting more and more as the sensation grew.
And his own as well. His spent manhood was swelling again, and when she felt it, she abruptly sat up and bent down to take it into her mouth and help it along. He lay back to enjoy the sensations she sent coursing through him, as she took in as much as she could, sucking hard, then releasing and letting it slide back. She found the hard ridge on the underside and rubbed her tongue across it rapidly; then, pulling back the foreskin a little, she circled the smooth head with her tongue faster and faster. He moaned with the fiery waves coursing through him, then pulled her around until she straddled him, and he reached up to taste the warm petal of her flower.
At almost the same moment, they felt themselves and each other mount and mount, and when he tasted her again, he pulled himself back, turned her around so that she was on her knees, guided himself in, and felt her full, deep well again. She pushed back with each stroke, rocking, moving, plunging in and pulling back, feeling every push, every pull, and then, it came again, first she and, at the next stroke, he felt the marvelous surge of the Mother’s great Gift of Pleasure.
They both collapsed, exhausted, pleasurably, wonderfully, languorously exhausted. They felt a draft for a moment, but didn’t move, and they even dozed off for a time. When they woke, they got up and washed again, then soaked in the hot waters. To their surprise, when they got out, they found clean, dry, velvety soft leather blankets to dry themselves with beside the entrance.
Madenia walked back to the cave, experiencing feelings she had never known before. She had been moved by Jondalar’s intense but controlled passion and his caring tenderness, and by Ayla’s eager response and unreserved willingness to abandon herself to him, to trust him completely. Their experience was not at all like the one she had endured. Their Pleasures had been fiery and physical but not brutal; it was not taking from one to serve the other’s lust, but giving and sharing to please and gratify each other. Ayla had told her the truth; the Mother’s Pleasures could be an exciting, sensual delight, a joyful and pleasurable celebration of their love.
And though she didn’t quite know what to do about it, she was aroused, physically and emotionally. She had tears in her eyes. At that moment, she wanted Jondalar. She wished he could be the one to share her womanhood rites, though she knew that wasn’t possible. But she decided, at that moment, that if she could have someone like him, she would agree to go through with the ceremony and have her Rites of First Pleasures at the next Summer Meeting.
No one was feeling particularly lively the next morning. Ayla made the “morning-after” drink she had developed for the after-celebration headaches at the Lion Camp, though she only had enough ingredients for the people of the Ceremonial Hearth. She carefully checked her supply of the contraceptive tea she took each morning, and decided it should last until the growing season when she could collect more. Fortunately it wasn’t necessary to take much.
Madenia came to see the visitors before noon. Smiling shyly at Jondalar, she announced that she had decided to have her First Rites.
“That’s wonderful, Madenia. You won’t be sorry,” the tall, handsome, wonderfully gentle man said. She looked up at him with such adoring eyes that he bent down and kissed her cheek, then nuzzled her neck and breathed in her ear. He stood up and smiled at her, and she was lost in his remarkable blue eyes. Her heart was beating so fast that she could hardly breathe. At that moment, more than anything, Madenia wished that Jondalar could be the one who would be chosen for her Rites of First Pleasures. Then she felt embarrassed, afraid, that somehow he knew what she was thinking. Suddenly she ran out of the hearth area.
“Too bad we don’t live closer to the Losadunai,” he said, watching her go. “I would like to help that young woman, but I’m sure they’ll find someone.”
“Yes, I’m sure they will, but I hope she hasn’t built up her expectations too high. I told her that someday she might find someone like you, Jondalar, that she had suffered enough and deserved it. I hope so, for her sake,” Ayla said. “But there aren’t many like you.”
“All young women have high hopes and expectations,” Jondalar said, “but it’s all imagination before the first time.”
“But she has something to base her imagination on.”
“Of course, they all know more or less what to expect. It’s not like they haven’t been around men and women,” he said.
“It’s more than that, Jondalar. Who do you think left us those dry blankets last night?”
“I thought it was Losaduna, or maybe Solandia.”
“They went to their bed before we did; they had their own honoring to do. I asked them. They didn’t even know we had gone to the sacred waters—although Losaduna seemed particularly pleased about it.”
“If they didn’t, then who … Madenia?”
“I’m almost certain it was.”
Jondalar frowned with concentration. “We’ve been traveling alone together for so long that … I’ve never really said it before, but … I feel a little … I don’t know … reluctant, I guess, to be as impetuous, as free when we’re around people. I thought we were alone last night. If I’d known she was there, I might not have been as … unrestrained,” he said.
Ayla smiled. “I know,” she said. She was becoming more and more aware that he didn’t like to reveal the deeply sensitive side of his nature, and she was pleased that he would express himself to her, in words and actions. “I’m glad you didn’t know she was there, both for me, and for her.”
“Why for her?” he asked.
“I think that’s what convinced her to go ahead with her womanhood ceremony. She had been around men and women sharing Pleasures often enough that she didn’t think about it, until those men forced her. Afterward she could only think about the pain, and the horror of being used as a thing, with no thought for her as a woman. It’s hard to explain, Jondalar. Something like that makes you feel so … terrible.”
“I’m sure that’s true, but I think there was more to it,” the man said. “After a girl has her first moon time, but before she has had her First Rites, a woman is most vulnerable—and most desirable. Every man is drawn to her, perhaps because she may not be touched. At any other time, a woman is free to choose any man, or none, but at that time, it is dangerous for her.”
“Like Latie wasn’t even supposed to look at her brothers,” Ayla said. “Mamut explained about that.”
“Maybe not entirely,” Jondalar said. “It is up to the girl-woman to show restraint then, and it’s not always easy. She is the center of attention; every man wants her, particularly the younger ones, and it can be hard for her to resist. They follow her around, trying every way they can to get her to give in to them. Some girls do, especially those who have a long wait before the Summer Meeting. But if she allows herself to be opened without the proper rituals, she is … not well thought of. If it’s found out, and sometimes the Mother blesses her before she is a woman, making sure everyone knows that she was opened—people can be cruel. They blame her and make fun of her.”
“But why should they blame her? They should blame the men who won’t let her alone,” Ayla said, irked at the unfairness.
“People say if she can’t show restraint, she lacks the qualities to assume the responsibilities of Motherhood and Leadership. She will never be chosen to sit on the Council of Mothers, or Sisters, or whatever name her people give to their council of highest authority, so she loses status, which makes her less desirable as a mate. Not that she loses the status of her mother or her hearth—nothing she is born with is taken away—but she will never be chosen by a man of high status, or even one who has the potential for it. I think Madenia feared that as much as anything,” Jondalar said.
“No wonder Verdegia said she was ruined.” Ayla’s brow creased with concern. “Jondalar, will her people accept Losaduna’s cleansing ritual? You know that once she is open, she can never really go back to the way she was.”
“I think so. It wasn’t that she didn’t show restraint. She was forced, and people are angry enough about Charoli to use that against him. There may be a few who will have reservations, but she will have a lot of defenders, too.”
Ayla was silent for a while. “People are complicated, aren’t they? Sometimes I wonder if anything is really what it seems.”
“I think it will work, Laduni,” Jondalar said. “I do think it will work! Let me go through it again. We’ll use the bowl boat to carry dried grass, and enough burning stones to melt ice for water, plus extra rocks to build a fire on, and the heavy mammoth hide to put the rocks on so they won’t sink into the ice when they get hot. We can carry food for us, and probably Wolf, in pack baskets and our backframes.”
“It will be a heavy load,” Laduni said, “but you don’t have to boil the water—that will save on burning stones. You just have to melt it enough so the horses can drink it; both of you and the wolf, too. It doesn’t have to be hot, but make sure it’s not icy. And make sure you drink enough; don’t try to be sparing. If you have warm clothes, get enough rest, and drink enough water, you can resist the cold.”
“I think they should try it out in advance, to see how much they will need,” Laronia said.
Ayla saw that Laduni’s mate had made the suggestion. “That’s a good idea,” she said.
“But Laduni’s right, it will be a heavy load,” Laronia added.
“Then we’ll have to go through our things and get rid of everything we can,” Jondalar said. “We won’t need much. Once we get across, we’ll be close to Dalanar’s Camp.”
They were already down to bare necessities. How much more could they get rid of? Ayla thought as the meeting broke up. Madenia fell in beside her as she walked back to their sleeping place. The girl-woman had not only developed a strong crush on Jondalar, but a bit of hero-worship toward Ayla, which made Ayla a little uncomfortable. But she liked Madenia and asked her if she would like to sit with her while she sorted through her things.
As Ayla began unpacking and spreading out her belongings, she tried to remember how many times she had done this before on this Journey. It would be difficult to make choices. Everything had some meaning to her, but if they were going to get across this formidable glacier that Jondalar had been worrying about from the beginning, with Whinney and Racer, and Wolf, she had to eliminate as much as possible.
The first package she opened contained the beautiful outfit made of soft chamois that Roshario had given to her. She held it up, then spread it out in front of her.
“Oooh! How beautiful! The patterns that are sewn on, and the way it’s cut, I’ve never seen anything like it,” Madenia said, unable to resist reaching out to touch it. “And so soft! I have never felt anything so soft.”
“It was given to me by a woman of the Sharamudoi, people who live far away from here, near the end of the Great Mother River, where she is truly a great river. You wouldn’t believe how big the Mother River gets. The Sharamudoi are really two people. The Shamudoi live on the land and hunt chamois. Do you know that animal?” Ayla asked. Madenia shook her head. “It is a mountain animal, something like an ibex, but smaller.”
“Yes, I do know that, but we call it by a different name,” Madenia said.
“The Ramudoi are River People and hunt the great sturgeon—that’s a huge fish. Together, they have a special way of curing the hides of the chamois to make them soft and supple like this.”
Ayla picked up the embroidered tunic and thought about the Sharamudoi people she had met. It seemed so long ago. She could have lived with them; she still felt the same way, and she knew she would never see them again. She hated the thought of leaving the gift from Roshario behind. Then she looked into Madenia’s shining eyes as she admired it, and Ayla made a decision.
“Would you like to have this, Madenia?”
Madenia jerked her hands back as though she had touched something hot. “I couldn’t! It was a gift to you,” she said.
“We have to lighten our load. I think Roshario would be pleased if you would accept it, since you love it so. It was meant to be a matrimonial outfit, but I already have one.”
“Are you sure?” Madenia said.
Ayla could see her eyes glistening, incredulous at the thought of such a beautiful, exotic outfit. “Yes, I’m sure. You might consider it for your Matrimonial, if it is appropriate. Think of it as a gift to remember me.”
“I don’t need a gift to remember you,” Madenia said, her eyes brimming with tears. “I will never forget you. Because of you, maybe, someday, I will have a Matrimonial, and if I do, I will wear it then.” She couldn’t wait to show it to her mother, and to all her friends and age-mates at the Summer Meeting.
Ayla was glad she had decided to give it to her. “Would you like to see my Matrimonial outfit?”
“Oh, yes,” Madenia said.
Ayla unwrapped the tunic Nezzie had made for her when she had planned to mate with Ranec. It was an ochre yellow, the color of her hair. A carving of a horse had been wrapped inside it, and two almost perfectly matched pieces of honey-colored amber. Madenia couldn’t believe Ayla could have two outfits that were so exotically beautiful, yet so different from each other, but she was afraid to say too much, for fear Ayla might feel required to give her this one, too.
Ayla studied it, trying to decide what to do with it. Then she shook her head. No, she could not part with it, it was her Matrimonial tunic. She would wear it when she mated with Jondalar. In a way, it had a part of Ranec in it, too. She picked up the small horse carved out of mammoth ivory and fondled it absentmindedly. This, too, she would keep. She thought about Ranec, wondered how he was. No one had ever loved her more, and she would never forget him. She could have mated him and been happy with him, if she hadn’t loved Jondalar so much.
Madenia had tried to restrain her curiosity, but finally she had to ask. “What are those stones?”
“They’re called amber. They were given to me by the headwoman of the Lion Camp.”
“Is that a carving of your horse?”
Ayla smiled at her. “Yes, it’s a carving of Whinney. It was made for me by a man with laughing eyes and skin the color of Racer’s coat. Even Jondalar said he had never known a better carver.”
“A man with brown skin?” Madenia asked, incredulous.
Ayla smiled wryly. She couldn’t blame her for doubting. “Yes. He was a Mamutoi, and his name was Ranec. The first time I saw him, I couldn’t help staring at him. I’m afraid I was very impolite. I was told that his mother was as dark as … a piece of that burning stone. She lived far to the south, across a great sea. A Mamutoi man named Wymez made a long Journey. He mated her, and her son was born to his hearth. She died on their way back, so he returned with only the boy. The man’s sister raised him.”
Madenia gave a little shiver of excitement. She thought the only thing south was the mountains, and that they went on forever. Ayla had traveled so far and knew so much. Maybe someday she would make a Journey like Ayla, and meet a brown man who would carve a beautiful horse for her, and people who would give her beautiful clothes, and find horses that would let her ride them, and a wolf that loved children, and a man like Jondalar, who would ride the horses and make the long Journey with her. Madenia was lost in daydreams of great adventure.
She had never met anyone like Ayla. She idolized the beautiful woman who led such an exciting life, and she hoped she might be like her in some way. Ayla spoke with a strange accent, but that only added to her mystery, and hadn’t she suffered a forced attack by a man when she was a girl, too? Ayla had gotten over it but understood how someone else felt. In the warmth, love, and understanding of the people around her, Madenia was beginning to recover from the horror of the incident. She began to imagine herself, mature and wise, telling some young girl, who had suffered such an attack, about her experience, to help her overcome it.
While Madenia daydreamed, she watched Ayla pick up a neatly tied package. The woman held it but didn’t open it; she knew exactly what was inside it, and she had no intention of leaving it behind.
“What’s that?” the girl asked, as Ayla put it aside.
Ayla picked it up again; she hadn’t seen it herself for some time. She looked around to make sure Jondalar was not in sight, then untied the knots. Inside was a pure white tunic decorated with ermine tails. Madenia’s eyes became big and round.
“That’s as white as snow! I’ve never seen any leather colored white like that,” she said.
“Making white leather is a secret of the Crane Hearth. I learned how to make it from an old woman, who learned it from her mother,” Ayla explained. “She had no one to pass the knowledge down to, so when I asked her to teach me, she agreed.”
“You made that?” Madenia said.
“Yes. For Jondalar, but he doesn’t know it. I’m going to give it to him when we reach his home, I think for our Matrimonial,” Ayla said.
When she held it up, a package fell out if it, too. Madenia could see it was a man’s tunic. Except for the ermine tails, there were no decorations; no embroidered patterns or designs, no shells or beads, but it needed none. Decorations would have detracted. In its simplicity, the pure whiteness of the color made it stunning.
Ayla opened the smaller package. Inside was the strange figure of a woman with a carved face. If she hadn’t just seen wonder after wonder, it would have frightened the girl; dunai never had faces. But somehow it was all right for Ayla to have one.
“Jondalar made this for me,” Ayla said. “He told me he made it to capture my spirit, and for my womanhood ceremony, the first time he taught me the Mother’s Gift of Pleasure. There was no one else to share in it, but we didn’t need it. Jondalar made it a ceremony. Later he gave this to me to keep because it has great power, he says.”
“I believe it,” Madenia said. She had no desire to touch it, but she didn’t doubt that Ayla could control any power it held.
Ayla sensed her uneasiness and wrapped the figure back up again. She tucked it inside the carefully folded white tunic and wrapped that in the fine, thin sewn-together rabbit hides that protected it, then tied it with the cords.
Another wrapped package held some of the gifts she had received at her adoption ceremony, when she was accepted into the Mamutoi. She would keep them. Her medicine bag would go with her, of course, fire-stones and fire-making kit, her sewing kit, one change of inner clothes, and felt boot liners, sleeping rolls, and hunting weapons. She looked over her bowls and cooking implements and eliminated all but the absolute essentials. She would have to wait for Jondalar to decide about the tents, ropes, and other gear.
Just as she and Madenia were about to go out, Jondalar came into the dwelling space. He and several others had just returned with a load of brown coal, and he had come in to sort through his things. Several other people came in then, too, including Solandia and her children with Wolf.
“I’ve really come to depend on this animal, and I’m going to miss him. I don’t suppose you’d like to leave him,” she said.
Ayla signaled Wolf. For all his love of the children, he came to her immediately and stood at her feet looking at her expectantly. “No, Solandia. I don’t think I could.”
“I didn’t think so, but I had to ask. I’m going to miss you, too, you know,” she added.
“And I will miss you. The hardest part of this Journey has been making friends, then leaving and knowing that I would probably never see them again,” Ayla said.
“Laduni,” Jondalar said, carrying a piece of mammoth ivory with strange markings incised on it. “Talut, the headman of the Lion Camp, made this map of the country far to the east, showing the first part of our Journey. I had hoped to keep it as a remembrance of him. It’s not essential, but I would hate to throw it away. Would you keep it for me? Who knows, someday I may come back for it.”
“Yes, I’ll keep it for you,” Laduni said, taking the ivory map and looking it over. “It looks interesting. Perhaps you can explain it to me before you go. I hope you do come back, but if not, perhaps someone going that way may have room for it and I can send it to you.”
“I’m also leaving some tools behind. You can keep them or not. I always hate to give up a hammerstone I’m used to, but I’m sure I’ll be able to replace it once we reach the Lanzadonii. Dalanar always has good supplies around. I’ll leave my bone hammers and some blades, too. I’ll keep an adze and an axe to chop ice, though.”
After they had walked over to their sleeping area, Jondalar asked, “What are you taking, Ayla?”
“It’s all here, on the bed platform.”
Jondalar saw the mysterious package among her other things. “Whatever is in that must be very valuable,” he said.
“I will carry it,” she said.
Madenia smiled slyly, pleased to know the secret. It made her feel very special.
“What about this?” he asked, pointing to another package.
“These are gifts from the Lion Camp,” she said, opening it up to show him. He spied the beautiful spear point Wymez had given her, and he picked it up to show Laduni.
“Look at this,” he said.
It was a large blade, longer than his hand, and as wide as his palm, but less than the size of the tip of his small finger in thickness, tapering to a fine sharpness at the edges.
“It’s bifacially worked,” Laduni said, turning it over. “But how did he get it so thin? I thought working both sides of a stone was a crude technique used for simple axes and such, but this is not crude. This is as fine a piece of workmanship as I’ve ever seen.”
“Wymez made it,” Jondalar said. “I told you he was good. He heats the flint before he works it. It changes the quality of the stone, makes it easier to detach fine flakes, that’s how he gets it so thin. I can hardly wait to show this to Dalanar.”
“I’m sure he will appreciate it,” Laduni said.
Jondalar gave it back to Ayla, and she rewrapped it carefully. “I think we’ll just take a single tent, more as a windbreak,” he remarked.
“What about a ground cloth?” Ayla said.
“We have such a heavy load of rocks and stones, I hate to take anymore than we need to.”
“A glacier is ice. We might be glad for a ground cover.”
“I suppose you’re right,” he said.
“What about these ropes?”
“Do you really think we need them?”
“I’d suggest you take them,” Laduni said. “Ropes can be very useful on a glacier.”
“If you think so, I’ll take your advice,” Jondalar said.
They had packed as much as possible the night before and spent the evening saying their farewells to the people they had come to care for so much in the short time they were there. Verdegia made a point of coming to talk to Ayla.
“I want to thank you, Ayla.”
“It’s not necessary to thank me. We need to thank everyone here.”
“I mean for what you did for Madenia. To be honest, I’m not sure what you did, or what you said to her, but I know that you made the difference. Before you came, she was hiding in a dark corner, wishing she were dead. She wouldn’t even talk to me, and she wanted nothing to do with becoming a woman. I thought all was lost. Now, she’s almost like her old self, and looking forward to her First Rites. I just hope nothing happens to make her change her mind again before summer.”
“I think she will be all right, as long as everyone continues to support her,” Ayla said. “That has been the biggest help, you know.”
“I still want to see Charoli punished,” Verdegia said.
“I think everyone does. Now that everyone has agreed to go after him, I think he will be. Madenia will be vindicated, and she will have her First Rites and become a woman. You will have grandchildren yet, Verdegia.”
In the morning they got up early, did their final packing, and came back into the cave for a last morning meal with the Losadunai. Everyone was there to bid them farewell. Losaduna had Ayla memorize a few more verses of lore, and then almost became emotional when she hugged him goodbye. Then he quickly went to talk to Jondalar. Solandia made no qualms about how she felt, and she told them how sorry she was to see them go. Even Wolf seemed to know he would not see the children again, and so did they. He licked the baby’s face and for the first time Micheri cried.
But as they walked out of the cave, it was Madenia who surprised them. She had put on the magnificent outfit Ayla had given her, and she clung to Ayla and tried not to cry. Jondalar told her how beautiful she was, and he meant it. The clothes lent her an air of uncommon beauty and maturity and hinted at the real woman she would someday become.
As they mounted the horses, rested now and eager to go, they looked back at the people standing around the mouth of the cave, and it was Madenia who stood out. But she was still young and, as they waved, tears streamed down her face.
“I will never forget you, either of you,” she called out, then ran into the cave.
As they rode away, back toward the Great Mother River, which was hardly more than a stream, Ayla thought she would never forget Madenia, or her people either. Jondalar was sorry to say goodbye, too, but his thoughts were on the difficulties they had yet to face. He knew the toughest part of their Journey still lay ahead.