Zelandoni gave Ayla one of the tightly woven reed cups that had been specially made for the festival, nearly full of hot tea made of herbs that would be relaxing. She put another cup on a low table, then sat down on the large stool beside Ayla’s stool. They were alone in the large zelandonia dwelling, except for the unconscious man, his face wrapped in soft skins that held healing poultices in place, lying on a nearby bed. Several lamps cast a warm glow of soft light around the injured man, and two more were on a low table that held the tea cups.
“I’ve never seen him like that,” Ayla said. “Why did he do it, Zelandoni?”
“Because you were with Laramar.”
“But it was a Mother Festival. I am Zelandoni now. I’m supposed to share the Mother’s Gift at Festivals that Honor the Mother, aren’t I?” Ayla said.
“Everyone is supposed to Honor the Mother at Her Festivals, and you always have, but never before with anyone except Jondalar,” the large woman said.
“Just because I haven’t done it before with anyone else shouldn’t make any difference. After all, he’s been coupling with Marona,” Ayla said. Zelandoni noticed a touch of defensiveness in her voice.
“Yes, but you weren’t available when he did. You know men often share the Mother’s Gift of Pleasure with other women when their mates are not within easy reach, don’t you?” the One Who Was First asked.
“Yes, of course,” Ayla said, looking down quickly, then taking a sip of her tea.
“Does the thought of Jondalar choosing another woman bother you, Ayla?”
“Well, he never has chosen anyone else. Not as long as I’ve known him,” Ayla said, looking at the woman with earnest concern. “How could I know him so little? I can’t believe what he did. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t been there. First he sneaks around with Marona … and I found out he’s been doing it for a long time. Then he … Why Marona?”
“How would you feel if it was someone else?”
Ayla looked down again. “I don’t know.” She looked up at Zelandoni again. “Why didn’t he come to me if he wanted to satisfy his needs? I have never refused him. Never.”
“Maybe that’s why. Maybe he knew you were tired, or deeply involved in something you were learning, and he didn’t want to impose himself on you, when he knew you would not refuse him,” Zelandoni said. “And there were some times when you were required to forgo certain things for a period of time, Pleasures, food, even water.”
“But why Marona? If it had been another woman, anyone else, I think I would have understood. I might not have liked it, but I would have understood. Why that woman?”
“Perhaps because she offered.” Ayla looked so puzzled, Zelandoni went on to explain. “Everyone was aware that neither you nor Jondalar ever chose anyone else, Ayla, not even at Mother Festivals. Before he left, Jondalar was always available, especially then. He had such a strong drive, one woman was seldom enough for him. It was like he was never quite satisfied, until he came back with you. Not long after he returned, women stopped trying. If you don’t make yourself available, no one offers. Most women don’t like being refused. But Marona didn’t care. It was so easy for her to have any man she wanted, a refusal just made it a challenge. Jondalar became a special challenge, I think.”
“I can’t believe how little I know him.” Ayla shook her head, took another sip of tea. “Zelandoni, he almost killed Laramar. His face will never be the same. If Danug hadn’t been here, I’m not sure Laramar would still be alive. No one else could stop him.”
“It was one of the things I was afraid would happen after we told the people about a man’s role in starting new life, though I didn’t expect it to happen this way, or quite so soon. I knew problems would come up once we told the men, but I thought we’d have more time to work them out.”
“I don’t understand,” Ayla said, frowning again. “I would have thought men would be happy to know that they were necessary for new life to begin, just as necessary as women, that it was the reason the Mother made them.”
“They may be happy, but once they understand the implications, men may want to be sure that the children of their hearths are more than the children of their mates. They may want to know that the children they provide for came from them.”
“Why should it matter? It never has before. Men have always provided for their mates’ children. Most men have been pleased when their mates brought children to their hearths. Why would they suddenly want to provide for only their own?” Ayla said.
“It may turn out to be a thing of pride. They may get possessive of their mates and their children,” the First said.
Ayla took a drink of tea and thought for a while, frowning. “How would they know for sure? It’s the woman who gives birth. The only thing any man can know, without doubt, is that a baby is the child of his mate.”
“The only way a man can be sure is if a woman shares Pleasures with only her mate,” Zelandoni said. “Like you, Ayla.”
Ayla’s frown deepened. “But what about Mother Festivals? Most women look forward to them. They want to Honor the Mother, to share her Gift of Pleasures with more than one man.”
“Yes, most women do, and men, too. It adds excitement and interest to their lives. Most women also want a mate to help take care of her children,” Zelandoni said.
“Some women don’t have mates. Their mothers, and aunts, and brothers help them, especially with a newborn. Even the Cave helps women take care of their children. Children have always been provided for,” Ayla said.
“That’s true, but things can change. There have been a few difficult years in the past, when animals were more scarce and plant food less abundant. When there is not as much, some people don’t always want to share. If you only had enough food for one child, which child would you give it to?”
“I would give up my own food, for any child,” Ayla said.
“For a while, yes. Most people would. But for how long? If you don’t eat, you would become weak and sick. Then who would take care of your child?”
“Jonda …” Ayla started; then she stopped and put her hand to her mouth.
“Yes.”
“But, Marthona would help, too, and Willamar, even Folara. The whole Ninth Cave would help,” Ayla rushed ahead.
“That’s true, Marthona and Willamar would, as long as they were able, but you know Marthona is not well, and Willamar is not getting younger. Folara is going to mate Aldanor in the Late Matrimonial this season. When she has a baby of her own, who will she feed first?”
“It’s never that bad, Zelandoni. Sometimes things get a little scarce in the spring, but you can always find something to eat,” Ayla said.
“And I hope that will always be true, but a woman usually feels more secure if she has a mate to help her.”
“Sometimes two women share a hearth and help each other with their children,” Ayla said. She was thinking about Aldanor’s people, the S’Armunai, and Attaroa, who tried to get rid of all the men.
“And they may become mates to each other. It is always better to have someone around to help, someone who cares, but most women choose men. It’s the way the Mother created most of us, and you have told us why, Ayla.”
Ayla glanced over toward the man in the bed. “But if you knew everything was going to change, Zelandoni, why did you allow it to happen? You’re the First. You could have stopped it,” Ayla said.
“Perhaps, for a while. But the Mother would not have told you if She didn’t want Her children to know. And once She decided, it was inevitable. It could not be kept a secret. When a truth is ready to be known, it may be delayed, but can’t be stopped,” Zelandoni said.
Ayla closed her eyes, thinking. Finally she opened them and said, “Jondalar was so … angry. So violent.” Tears were welling up.
“The violence has always been there, Ayla. It is for most men. You know what Jondalar did to Madroman, and he was little more than a boy then. He has just learned to keep it under control, most of the time.”
“But he couldn’t stop hitting him. He nearly killed Laramar. Why?”
“Because you chose Laramar, Ayla. Everyone heard Jondalar yelling, ‘He’s making my baby.’ You can be sure no man has forgotten those words. Why did you choose Laramar?”
Ayla bowed her head and tears tracked down her face as quiet sobs began. Finally she got it out. “Because Jondalar chose Marona.” The tears she had held back for so long were suddenly flowing and there was no stopping them. “Oh, Zelandoni, I never knew what jealousy was until that moment when I saw them together. I’d just lost my baby, and I’d been thinking about Jondalar and looking forward to seeing him, and maybe starting another baby with him. It hurt so much to see him with Marona, and it made me so angry, I wanted to make him hurt, too.” Zelandoni found a piece of soft bandaging material and gave it to her to wipe her eyes and her nose.
“And he wouldn’t talk to me afterward. He didn’t say he was sorry I lost the baby. Or hold me and comfort me. He didn’t even touch me, not once. He never said one word to me. It hurt even more when he wouldn’t talk to me. He didn’t even give me a chance to be angry. To tell him how I felt. I wasn’t even sure if he still loved me.” She sniffled, and wiped away more tears, then continued.
“When Jondalar saw me at the feast, and finally came over to say he wanted to talk to me, Laramar happened to be nearby. I know Jondalar has no respect for Laramar. There is no man he dislikes more. He thinks Laramar not only treats his mate and her children badly, he causes other men to do the same. I knew it would make Jondalar angry if I chose Laramar instead of him, I knew it would hurt him. But I didn’t know he would get so brutal. I didn’t know he would try to kill him. I just didn’t know.”
Zelandoni reached for Ayla and held her while she cried. “I thought it was something like that,” she said, patting her back and letting her get her tears out, but her mind was filling in details.
I should have paid closer attention, Zelandoni thought. I knew she had just miscarried, and that always brings on feelings of melancholy, and I knew Jondalar was not handling the problem well. He never does in this kind of situation, but Ayla seemed to be. I knew she was upset about Jondalar. I didn’t realize how much. I should have, but she’s hard to assess. It surprised me that she was called. I didn’t think she was quite ready, but I knew it had happened the moment I saw her.
I thought it was difficult for her, especially with the miscarriage, but she has always been so strong. I didn’t realize until I talked to Marthona just how bad it was. Then when she told her calling in front of the whole zelandonia—that caught me by surprise, too—I knew something had to be done about it right away. I should have talked to her first; then I would have known what to expect. It would have given me some time to think of the implications. But there is always so much going on at these Summer Meetings. It’s not an excuse. I should have been there to help her, help them both, and I wasn’t. I have to accept responsibility for a large part of this whole unfortunate affair.
While she was leaning on the soft shoulder of the large woman, sobbing and finally letting out the tears she had held back for so long, Ayla kept thinking about the question Zelandoni had asked. Why did I choose Laramar? Why did I choose the worst man in the whole Cave, probably the worst man at the whole Summer Meeting?
What a horrible Summer Meeting this has been. Instead of rushing to get here, it would have been better if I hadn’t come at all, she said to herself. Then I wouldn’t have seen them together. If I hadn’t seen Marona and Jondalar, if someone had just told me, it would have been better. I still wouldn’t have liked it, but at least every time I shut my eyes, I wouldn’t see them.
Maybe that’s what made me choose Laramar, what made me want to hurt Jondalar so much. I wanted to make him feel the way I was feeling. What does that make me? Wanting to strike back, wanting to hurt. Is that worthy of a Zelandoni? If I loved him so much, why should I want to hurt him? Because I was jealous. Now I know why the Zelandonii try to prevent it.
Jealousy is a terrible thing, Ayla said to herself. I had no right to feel so hurt. Jondalar didn’t do anything wrong. It was his right to choose Marona if he wanted to. He wasn’t breaking his bond; he was still contributing to the hearth, still helping to provide for Jonayla and me. He has always done more than he had to. He has probably taken care of Jonayla more than I have. I know how bad he always felt about hitting Madroman when he was younger. He hated himself for it; he must feel terrible now. And what will happen to him? What will the Ninth Cave do to him? Or the zelandonia, or all the Zelandonii, for almost killing Laramar?
Ayla finally sat back, wiped her eyes and her nose, reached for her tea. Zelandoni hoped the release had done her some good, but Ayla’s mind was still whirling. It’s all my fault, she thought. Tears started to fall again as she sat sipping cold tea, almost without her noticing. Laramar is hurt so bad, he’ll never be the same, and it’s my fault. He wouldn’t be hurt if I hadn’t encouraged him, coaxed him, made him think I wanted him.
And she’d had to force herself to do it. She hated the thought of his dirty, sweaty hands touching her. It made her skin crawl, feel itchy, grimy, and she couldn’t wash it away. She had bathed, scrubbed herself nearly raw, flushed herself out. Even though she knew it was dangerous, she drank a tea of mistletoe leaves and other herbs that made her vomit and gave her painful cramps, to expel anything that may have started. But nothing she did could rid her of the feel of Laramar.
Why had she done it? To hurt Jondalar? She was the one who couldn’t find time for him. She was the one who was up all night and spent most of her waking hours memorizing songs and Histories and symbols and counting words. If she loved him so much, why didn’t she find time for him, too?
Was it because she enjoyed her training? She did love it, loved learning all the things she had to know to be zelandoni. All the knowledge that could be revealed, and all that was hidden. The symbols that had secret meaning, symbols that she could scratch on a stone, or paint on a cloth, or weave into a mat. She knew what they meant. All the zelandonia knew what they meant. She could send a stone with symbols on it to another Zelandoni, and the person who carried it wouldn’t have any idea that it meant anything at all, but the other zelandoni would know.
And she loved all the ceremony. Ayla remembered how moved and impressed she had been at her first ceremony with only the zelandonia that was held deep in that cave. Now she knew how to make them impressive. She had learned all the tricks, though it wasn’t just tricks. Some of it was real, frighteningly real. She knew that some of the zelandonia, particularly the older ones, didn’t really believe anymore. They had done it all so many times, they had grown accustomed to their own magic. Anyone could do it, they said. Maybe anyone could, but not without training. Not without help, or the magic medicines. What did it mean to fly with no wind, with your body still back with the zelandonia or the Cave, to someone who’d forgotten that not everyone could, or who did it only out of habit or duty?
Ayla remembered suddenly, at her initiation, hearing the One Who Was First say that she would be First someday. At the time Ayla had ignored it; she couldn’t imagine herself as First, and besides she had a mate and a child. How could anyone be First and have a mate and family at the same time? Some of the zelandonia had families, but not many.
All she had ever really wanted, from the time she was little, was to have a mate and children, her own family. Iza had told her she would never have children—her Cave Lion totem was too strong—but she had surprised them. She’d had a son. Broud would have hated it if he’d known that by forcing her, he had given her the one thing she wanted. But it had been no Gift of Pleasures then. Broud didn’t choose her because he cared about her. He loathed her. He forced her only to prove he could do whatever he wanted to her, and because he knew she detested it.
Now she had done it to herself. Forced herself to choose a man she detested to hurt a man she loved. Look what she had done to Jondalar because of her jealousy. It was her fault that he had almost killed a man. She didn’t deserve a family. She couldn’t even take care of her family as an acolyte. It would be much more difficult as a full-fledged Zelandoni. He’d be better off without her. Maybe she should let him go, let him find another mate.
But, how could she not be mated to Jondalar? How could she live without Jondalar? The thought brought on a freshet of new tears, which caused Zelandoni to wonder. It had seemed that Ayla had almost cried herself out. How could she live without Jondalar? Ayla thought. But how could Jondalar live with her now? She wasn’t worthy of him. She had nearly driven him to kill, just because he needed to satisfy his needs. Needs she obviously wasn’t satisfying. Even women of the Clan would do that, anytime their mates wanted. Jondalar deserves a better woman.
But what about Jonayla? She’s his daughter, too, and he loves her so much. He’s raised her more than I have. Jonayla deserves better than me for a mother. If I break the bond, he can mate again. He’s still the most beautiful … no, the most handsome man of all the Caves. Everyone thinks so. He would have no trouble finding another woman, even a younger one. I am old already; a younger woman could have more children with him. He can even choose … Marona … if he wants to. It hurt her just to think it, but she felt a need to punish herself, and she could think of no worse pain to inflict on herself.
That’s what I’ll do. I’ll break the bond and give Jonayla to Jondalar, and let him find another woman to have a family with. When I get back to the Ninth Cave, I won’t move back into my home, I’ll move in with Zelandoni, or I’ll have another place built, or move away and be Zelandoni to another Cave … if any other Cave would have me. Maybe I should just go away, find another valley and live by myself.
Zelandoni watched the play of emotions across Ayla’s face, but she couldn’t quite decipher them. There always was something unfathomable about the woman, Zelandoni thought. But there is no doubt. Someday she will be First. Zelandoni had never forgotten that day in Marthona’s dwelling when Ayla, young and untrained, had nevertheless overpowered the forceful mind of the First. It had shaken her more than she cared to admit.
“If you are feeling better, we should go, Ayla … Zelandoni of the Ninth Cave. We don’t want to be late to the meeting. People will have a lot of questions, especially after what happened between Jondalar and Laramar,” the One Who Was First Among Those Who Served The Great Earth Mother said.
“Come on, Jondalar. We need to get to the meeting. There are some questions I want to ask,” Joharran said.
“You go on. I’ll come later,” Jondalar said, hardly looking up from the bedroll he was sitting on.
“No, I’m afraid not, Jondalar. I was specifically told to make sure you came with me,” Joharran said.
“Told by whom?”
“Zelandoni and Marthona. Who do you think?”
“What if I don’t want to go to this meeting?” Jondalar said, testing his prerogatives. He felt so miserable, he didn’t want to move.
“Then I guess I’ll have to ask this mighty Mamutoi friend of yours to carry you out there, the way he carried you here,” Jondalar’s brother said, grimly smiling at Danug. They were in the shelter that Danug, Druwez, Aldanor, and some other men used. Since only men used it, it was called a fa’lodge although it wasn’t with the other fa’lodges on the outskirts of the Camp, or very far from the Ninth Cave’s regular family dwellings. “You’ve hardly moved since. Whether you want to or not, Jondalar, you are going to have to face people. This is an open meeting. No one is going to discuss your situation. That will come later, after we see how well Laramar recovers.”
“He should clean up a little,” Solaban said. “He still has bloodstains on his clothes.”
“I think you’re right,” Joharran said, then looked at Jondalar. “Are you going to do it yourself, or is somebody going to have to dunk you?”
“I don’t care. If you want to dunk me, go ahead,” Jondalar said.
“Jondalar, get a clean tunic and come to the river with me,” Danug said, speaking Mamutoi. It was a way to let Jondalar know he had someone he could talk to in private, if he didn’t want anyone else to know what he was saying; besides, he enjoyed the ease of speaking his own language rather than always struggling with Zelandonii.
“Fine,” Jondalar said, sighing deeply, then hauling himself up. “It doesn’t matter anyway.” He really didn’t care what happened to him. Jondalar was convinced that he had lost everything that mattered: his family, including Jonayla, the respect of his friends, and his people, but most of all, Ayla’s love, and that he deserved to lose it.
Danug watched Jondalar plodding alongside him toward the river, oblivious to everything around him. The young Mamutoi had seen the same kind of problems between the two people he had come so far to see before, people he cared a great deal about and who, he knew, loved each other more than any two people he had ever met. He wished there was some way he could make them see what he and everyone around them knew, but just telling them wouldn’t help. They would have to come to the realization on their own, and now it wasn’t just them. Jondalar had seriously injured someone, and while Danug was not familiar with the details of Zelandonii customs, he knew there would be consequences.
Zelandoni moved the drape, pushed the screen aside, and peeked out of the concealed private access at the rear of the large zelandonia dwelling, directly opposite from the regular entrance. She scanned the assembly area that came down from the hillside behind and opened out onto the camp. People had been gathering all morning and it was nearly full.
She had been right about questions. The meaning of the ceremony and the new verse to the Mother’s Song were beginning to be understood, but people were unsure. It was unsettling to think about what changes might happen, especially after Jondalar’s behavior. Zelandoni looked again to make sure that certain people had arrived, and then waited a little longer to give the last stragglers a chance to get settled. Finally she gave a signal to a young zelandoni, who conveyed the “she’s ready” sign to the others, and when everything was prepared, Zelandoni stepped outside.
Zelandoni Who Was First was a woman who exhibited great presence, and her magnificent size, both in height and mass, contributed to her bearing. She also commanded a large repertoire of techniques and tactics to keep gatherings focused on points she wanted to emphasize, and she would be using all her skills, both intuitive and learned, to project confidence and certainty to the large number of people who were watching her with such intensity.
Knowing how people had a tendency to speak out, she announced that since there were so many people, it would help keep things more orderly if questions were asked by the leaders of the Caves, or by only one member of each family. But if someone felt a strong need to say something, it should be brought up.
Joharran asked the first question, but it was a point everyone wanted clarified. “That new verse, I want to be sure I understand, does it mean that Jaradal and Sethona are my children, not just Proleva’s?”
“Yes, that is right,” Zelandoni who was First said. “Jaradal is your son, said Sethona is your daughter, Joharran, as much as they are Proleva’s son and daughter.”
“And it is the Gift of Pleasure from the Great Earth Mother that makes life begin inside a woman?” asked Brameval, the leader of the Fourteenth Cave.
“Doni’s Gift to us is not only for Pleasure. It is also the Gift of Life.”
“But Pleasures are shared often. Women don’t get pregnant that often,” said another voice, unable to wait.
“The Great Earth Mother still makes the final choice. Doni has not given up all Her knowledge, nor all Her prerogatives. She still decides when a woman will be Blessed with new life,” the First said.
“Then what’s the difference between using a man’s spirit or the essense of his organ to start a baby?” Brameval asked.
“It’s very clear. If a woman never shares Pleasure with a man, she will never have a child. She cannot just hope that someday the Mother will choose the spirit of some man and give her one. A woman must Honor the Mother by sharing Her Gift of Pleasures. The man must release his essense inside her, so that it can mix with the essense of a woman that is waiting for it,” the Great Woman said.
“Some women never get pregnant,” said Tormaden, the leader of the Nineteenth Cave.
“Yes, that’s true. I have never had a child. Though I have Honored the Mother often, I have never become pregnant. I don’t know why,” the First said. “Perhaps because the Mother chose me for a different purpose. I know it would have been very difficult for me to Serve The Mother as I have, if I had a mate and children. That is not to say that zelandonia should not have children. Some zelandonia do and still Serve Her well, though it may be easier for a Zelandoni who is a man to be mated and have children at his hearth, than for a woman. A man does not have to bear a child, or give birth, or nurse. Some women are able to do both, especially if their calling is strong, but they must have mates and families who are very caring and willing to help.”
Zelandoni noticed several people looking toward Jondalar, sitting with the Mamutoi visitors, somewhat uphill from the Ninth Cave, and not with the woman to whom he was mated. Ayla, who was holding Jonayla on her lap, sat beside Marthona, with the wolf between them near the front of the audience. She was close to the Ninth Cave, but also close to the ranks of the zelandonia. Most people believed that with her control of animals and her healing skills, even before she became an acolyte, Ayla’s calling had to be strong, and until this summer when all their troubles began, everyone was aware of how caring Jondalar had been. Many people believed it was Marona who was at the root of their troubles—she was sitting with her cousin, Wylopa, and some friends from the Fifth Cave—but now it had escalated far beyond that. Although word had gone out that Laramar had regained consciousness, he was still recovering inside the zelandonia lodge and only they knew how badly he was hurt.
“My mate shares the Gift of Pleasures with other men, not just me, at Mother Festivals and ceremonies,” a man in the audience said.
Now the questions are getting ticklish, Zelandoni thought. “Festivals and Ceremonies are held for sacred purposes. Sharing Pleasures is a sacred act. It honors the Great Earth Mother. If a child is conceived then, it is with her intention. It should be considered a favored child. Remember, Doni still chooses when a woman will become pregnant.” There was a scattering of barely audible comments from the audience.
Kareja, the leader of the Eleventh Cave, stood up. “Willadan has asked me to ask a question for him, but I think he should ask it himself.”
“If you think so, then certainly he should,” Zelandoni said.
“My mate was a donii-woman one summer after we were mated,” the man began. “She wasn’t having any luck getting a baby started and wanted to make the offering to honor the Mother and encourage Her to start one. It seemed to work. She did have a child after that, and three more since then. But now I wonder, did any of those children come from me?”
This must be handled with great delicacy, Zelandoni thought. “All children born to your mate are your children,” she said.
“But how do I know if they were started by me or some other man?”
“Tell me, Willadan, how old is your first child?”
“He can count twelve years. Almost a man.” There was pride in his voice.
“Were you happy when your mate became pregnant with him, and when he was born?”
“Yes, we wanted children at our hearth.”
“So you love him.”
“Of course I love him.”
“Would you love him more if you knew for sure that he was started by your essence?”
Willadan glanced at the boy. “No, of course not,” he said, frowning.
“If you knew the rest of your children were started with your own essence, would you love them more?”
He paused, thinking about the point he knew she was making. “No. I could not love them more.”
“Then does it make any difference if the essence that started them came from you or someone else?” Zelandoni noticed that his frown deepened. She decided to continue. “I have never been pregnant; I have never conceived a child, though there was a time when I wanted one, more than you will know. I am content now. I know the Mother chose what was best for me. But, it is possible, Willadan, that you were born as I was. Perhaps, for some reason known only to Doni, your essence could not start a child with your mate at that time. But the Great Earth Mother, in Her wisdom, gave you and your mate the children you wanted. If you were not the one who started them, would you be willing to give them back if you found the name of the man who may have started them?”
“No. I have provided for them all their lives,” Willadan said.
“Exactly. You have cared for them, you love them, they are the children of your hearth. That means they are your children, Willadan.”
“Yes, they are the children of my hearth, but you said if I am not the one who started them. Do you think they could have been started by my essence?” Willadan asked, a bit wistfully.
“It may well be that the honor your mate paid to the Mother was accepted as sufficient offering, and that she allowed your essence to start all of them. We don’t know, but if you could not love them more, Willadan, does it make any difference?”
“No, I guess not.”
“They may have been started by your essense, or they may not have,” Zelandoni said, “but they will always be more than the children of your hearth. They are your children.”
“Will we ever know for sure?”
“I don’t know if we will ever know. With a woman, it is obvious. She is either pregnant or not. With a man, his children are always the children of his mate. That’s the way it has always been. Nothing has changed. No man can be certain who started the children of his hearth.”
“Jondalar can,” came a voice from the audience. Everyone stopped and stared at the one who had spoken. It was Jalodan, a young man from the Third Cave. He was sitting with Folara’s friend, Galeya, whom he had mated two years before. He suddenly flushed from all the penetrating attention, including the hard look from Zelandoni. “Well, he can,” he said defensively. “Everyone knows Ayla never chose anyone but him—until last night. If children are started from the essence of a man’s organ, and Ayla never shared Pleasures with anyone but Jondalar, then the child of his hearth has to be his, had to come from his essence. That’s what he was fighting about last night, wasn’t he? He kept screaming, ‘He’s making my baby!’ every time he hit Laramar.”
Now all the attention was focused on Jondalar, and he squirmed under the intense scrutiny. Some people glanced at Ayla, but she was sitting rigidly still, looking down.
Suddenly Joharran stood up. “Jondalar was not in control of himself. He let himself drink too much, and it drowned his brains,” he said with exasperated sarcasm.
There were smiles and snickers. “I’ll wager his head was full of the ‘morning-after’ when the sun came up,” another young man called out. There was a touch of admiration in his tone, as though he found Jondalar’s violent behavior somehow laudable.
“Since both Jondalar and Laramar are from the Ninth Cave, this is an issue that will be settled by the Ninth Cave. This is not the place to discuss Jondalar’s actions,” Joharran said, trying to end the issue. He had heard the appreciation in the voices of some of the young men, and the last thing he wanted was for anyone to be emulating that kind of behavior.
“Except to say, Jemoral,” Zelandoni added, “that Jondalar will be suffering from more than a morning-after headache, I’m afraid. There will be serious consequences to pay, you can be sure.” It was difficult to know all the people at the meeting, though she tried. Their clothing was always a clue, as well as the beads and belts and other accoutrements they wore. This was a young man from the Fifth Cave, related to their Zelandoni. They all tended to be a little showier than most, and wore more beads, since they were known for making and trading them. And he was sitting closer to the front, which allowed her to see him clearly enough to recognize him.
“But I think I understand how he felt,” Jemoral persisted. “What if I want the child of my mate to come from me?”
“Yes,” another man spoke out, “what then?”
Another voice added, “What if I want the children of my hearth to be mine?”
Zelandoni waited until the commotion settled down, surveying the audience to see that most of the comments were coming from the Fifth Cave. Then she fixed the entire group with a stern look.
“You want the children of your hearth to be yours, Jemoral,” she said, looking directly at the young man who had asked the question. “Do you mean like your clothes, or your tools, or your beads? You want to own them?”
“No-ah-no. I-ah-didn’t mean that,” the young man stuttered.
“I’m glad to hear that, because children cannot be owned. They can’t be yours, or your mate’s. No one can own them. Children are ours to love and care for, to provide for, to teach, as the Mother does for us, and you can do that whether they come from your essence, or from someone else’s. We are all children of the Great Earth Mother. We learn from Her. Remember in the Mother’s Song:
To Woman and Man the Mother gave birth,
And then for their home, She gave them the Earth,
The water, the land, and all Her creation.
To use them with care was their obligation.
It was their home to use, but not to abuse.
Several zelandonia joined in the response, then they continued.
For the Children of Earth the Mother provided,
The Gifts to survive, and then She decided,
To give them the Gift of Pleasure and caring,
That honors the Mother with the joy of their pairing.
The Gifts are well earned, when honor’s returned.
“She provides for us, cares for us, teaches us, and in return for Her Gifts, we honor Her,” the One Who Was First continued. “Doni’s Gift of the Knowledge of Life was not given to you so that you might own the children born to your hearth, to claim them as yours.” She looked at several of the young men who had spoken out. “It was given so that we would know that women are not the only ones who are the Blessed of Doni. Men have a purpose that is equal to that of women. They are not here just to provide and to help; men are necessary. Without men there would be no children. Isn’t that enough? Do your children have to be yours? Do you have to own them?”
The young men exchanged sheepish looks, but Zelandoni wasn’t sure if they truly understood. Then a young woman spoke up.
“What about before? We know our mothers and our grandmothers. I am my mother’s daughter, but what about the men?”
The young woman wasn’t immediately familiar to Zelandoni, but reflexively, the astute mind of the First tried to place her. She was sitting with the Twenty-third Cave, and the designs and patterns on her tunic and necklace indicated she was a member of that Cave, not from another Cave and sitting with friends. Though the outfit she wore indicated a woman and not a girl, she was obviously quite young. Probably just had her First Rites, the donier thought. For one so young to speak out in a large crowd indicated she was either brash and impetuous or brave and accustomed to being with people who spoke their minds, which would indicate leadership. The leader of the Twenty-third Cave was a woman, Dinara. Zelandoni recalled then that Dinara’s eldest daughter was among those having First Rites this year, and Zelandoni noticed that Dinara was smiling at the young woman. Then she remembered the young woman’s name.
“Nothing has changed, Diresa,” the First said. “Children have always been the result of the joining of a man and a woman. Just because we didn’t know before doesn’t mean it hasn’t always been that way. Doni just chose to tell us now. She must have felt we were ready for this knowledge. Do you know who your mother’s mate was when you were born?”
“Yes, everyone knows who her mate is. It’s Joncoran,” Diresa said.
“Then Joncoran is your Fa-ther.” Zelandoni said. She had been waiting for the right opportunity to bring up the word that had been chosen. “Fa-ther is the name that has been given to a man who has children. A man is necessary for a life to begin, but he doesn’t carry the baby inside him, nor does he give birth or nurse, but a man can love the child as much as a mother. He is a far-mother, a fa-ther. It was also chosen to indicate that while women are the Blessed of Doni, men may now think of themselves as the Favored of Doni. It is similar to ‘mother,’ but the fa sound was chosen to make it clear that it is a name for a man, just as ‘fa’lodge’ is the name for the men’s place.”
There was an immediate outburst of noisy talk from the gathering. In the audience, Ayla heard the new term being repeated several times, as though the people were tasting it, getting used to it. Zelandoni waited until the noise settled down.
“You, Diresa, are the daughter of your mother, Dinara, and you are the daughter of your father, Joncoran. Your mother has sons and daughters, and your father also has sons and daughters. Those children may call him ‘father,’ just as they call the woman who gave birth to them ‘mother.’ ”
“What if the man who coupled with my mother and started me was not the man she mated?” asked Jemoral, the young man from the Fifth Cave.
“The man who is mated to your mother, the one who is the man of your hearth, is your father,” Zelandoni said without hesitation.
“But if he didn’t start me, how could he be my father?” Jemoral persisted.
That young man is going to be trouble, the One Who Was First thought. “You don’t know who may have started you, but you know the man who lives with you and your mother. He is the one who is most likely to have ‘fathered’ you. If you don’t know of anyone else for sure, he may as well not exist, and there is no point in naming a relationship that does not exist. Your mother’s mate is the one who promised to provide for you. He’s the one who cared for you, loved you, helped to raise you. It is not the coupling, it is the caring that makes a man your father. If the man to whom your mother was mated had died, and if she mated another man who loved you and cared for you, would you love him less?”
“But which one is the real ‘father’?”
“You may always call the man who provides for you ‘father.’ When you name your ties, as in a formal introduction, your father is the man who was mated to your mother when you were born, the man you call ‘the man of your hearth.’ If the one who provides for you is not the one who was there when you were born, you will refer to him as your ‘second father,’ to distinguish between the two when it is necessary,” Zelandoni explained. She was glad now that she spent a night, when she was unable to sleep, thinking about all the kinship ramifications this new knowledge would cause.
The One Who Was First had another announcement she wanted to make. “This may be a good time to bring up one more matter that needs to be mentioned. The zelandonia felt that the men need to be included in some of the rituals and customs associated with the welcoming of a new baby, to give them a deeper feeling and understanding of their part in the creation of new life. Therefore, from now on, the men will name the male children born to their hearths; the women will, of course, continue to name the female children.”
Her statement was received with mixed feelings. The men looked surprised, but several of them were smiling. She could see by their expressions, however, that some of the women did not want to give up their prerogative of naming the children. No one wanted to make an issue of it just then, and no questions were asked, but she knew this idea was not settled. There would be problems, she was sure.
“What about children who are born to women who are not mated?” asked a very young-looking woman who was nevertheless cuddling a baby in her arms.
Second Cave, Zelandoni thought, looking at her clothing and jewelry. Could that be a child of last summer’s First Rites? “The women who give birth before mating are Blessed, like the women who have new life started within them at the time they are mated. A woman who has been Blessed with a child has demonstrated that she can carry and deliver a healthy baby, and she is often the one who is chosen to be Blessed again. Until she mates, her children are provided for by her family or her Cave, and their ‘father’ is Lumi, the mate of Doni, the Great Earth Mother.”
She smiled at the young woman. “Nothing has really changed, Shaleda.” The name had suddenly come to her. “The Cave always provides for a woman with children who has no mate, whether her mate was lost to the next world or not yet chosen. But most men find a young woman with a baby very desirable. She usually mates quickly since she can bring a child to a man’s hearth immediately, a child who is a favorite of Doni. The man she mates becomes the child’s father, of course,” the large woman explained, and watched the woman who was little more than a girl glancing shyly at a young man from the Third Cave who was staring at her with rapt adoration.
“But what about the man who is really the father?” said the familiar voice of the young man from the Fifth Cave who had been asking so many questions. “Isn’t the man whose essence actually started the baby the father?”
Zelandoni noticed him glancing at the same young woman who was holding the baby. She was looking at the other man. Aah … Now I understand, the Donier thought. Maybe not a First Rites child, but a first infatuation. She was a little surprised at how easily she had fallen into the pattern of thinking about the birth of children being caused by the coupling of a man and a woman. It all seemed to fit into place so logically now.
Ayla had also been aware of the young man from the Fifth Cave, and had noticed the byplay between the young woman and the two men. Does he think he started her baby? Could he be jealous? she wondered. Ayla realized that she was now more aware not only of the concept, but of the intense feelings associated with jealousy. I didn’t know this Gift of Knowledge from the Great Earth Mother would be so complicated. I’m not sure it’s such a wonderful Gift at all, she said to herself.
“If a woman with a child has never been mated, then the man she mates, the one who promises to provide and care for the child, becomes the father of her baby. Of course, if a woman chooses to mate with more than one man, they would share the name ‘father’ equally,” Zelandoni said, trying to show a possible alternative.
“But a woman doesn’t have to mate with anyone she doesn’t want, isn’t that right?” the young woman said.
The First noticed that the Zelandoni of the Fifth Cave was climbing the hill toward the area where his Cave was gathered. “Yes, that has always been true and it hasn’t changed.” She saw that the Donier was sitting beside the young man who had so many questions, and turned to take a question from an entirely different segment of the audience.
“What is my father’s father called?” asked a man from the Eleventh Cave.
Zelandoni breathed a quiet sigh of relief. An easy question. “A mother’s mother is a grandmother, and is usually called grandma. A mother’s father is a grandfather, or grandfa. A father’s mother is a grandmother, too, but to distinguish between them, she will still be called grandam. A father’s father is a grandfather, or grandaf. When you name your ties, your mother’s mother is your close grandmother, or your grandma, and your mother’s father is your close grandfather, or your grandfa, because you are always certain who your mother is.”
“What if you don’t know whose essence started your mother?” the leader of the Fifth Cave asked. “Or if they are walking in the next world, how can you name the tie?”
“If you know the man who was mated to your mother’s mother, he would be your grandfather. The same is true for your father. Even if he is in the next world, your father was started by a man who coupled with his mother, just as your mother was started by a man who put the essence of his organ inside her mother,” Zelandoni carefully explained.
“NO! Noooo!” came a cry from the audience. “It’s not true! She has done it again. She has betrayed me, just when I was starting to trust her.”
Everyone turned to look. On the far outside edge of the large group of people from the Ninth Cave, a man was standing. “It’s a lie! It’s all a lie! That woman is trying to trick you. The Mother would never have told her that,” he screamed, pointing at Ayla. “She’s a lying evil woman.”
Shading her eyes, Ayla looked up and saw Brukeval. Brukeval? Why is he screaming at me like that? I don’t understand, she thought. What did I do to him?
“I come from the spirit of a man who was chosen by the Great Mother to join with the spirit of my mother,” Brukeval shrieked. “My mother came from the spirit of a man who was chosen by Doni to join with the spirit of her mother. She did not come from the organ of an animal! Not from the essence of any organ. I am a man! I am not a Flathead! I am not a Flathead!” His voice couldn’t sustain the anguished scream; it cracked on the last words and ended on a sobbing wail.