Jondalar could hardly breathe, and every time he gasped for air, his throat felt raw. Sweat was pouring off him. He was bent over double from the pain in his side. His legs shook and could hardly support him as he approached the bed at the back of the lodge. Wolf had pressed in beside him, and with lolling tongue was panting heavily, too.
“Here, Jondalar, sit,” Zelandoni said, standing up and giving him her own stool. She could see his extreme stress, and knew he must have run a great distance. “Get him some water,” she said to the nearest acolyte. “Some for the wolf, too.”
As he neared, he could see that Ayla’s skin had a deathly gray pallor. “Ayla, oh, Ayla, why did you do it again?” he rasped, barely able to speak. “You know you almost died last time.” He drank from the cup that was handed to him as a reflex, hardly realizing someone had given it to him. Then he literally climbed onto the bed. He pushed back the covers, picked Ayla up, and held her in his arms, shocked at how chilled she was. “She’s so cold,” he said, with a sobbing hiccup. He didn’t know tears were streaming down his face. He wouldn’t have cared if he did.
The wolf looked at the two people on the bed, lifted his muzzle into the air, and howled, a long eerie wolfsong that sent chills down the backs of the zelandonia who were in the lodge, and the people who were outside. It stunned the ones who were chanting, causing them to miss a pulse, and stop the continuous fugue for a heartbeat. It was only then that Jondalar became conscious of the zelandonia chanting. Then Wolf put his front paws on the bed, and whined for her attention.
“Ayla, Ayla, please come back to me,” Jondalar pleaded. “You can’t die. Who will give me a son? Oh, Ayla, what a thing to say. I don’t care if you give me a son. It’s you I want. I love you. I don’t even care if you never talk to me again, just so I can look at you sometimes. Please come back to me. O Great Mother, send her back. Please send her back. I’ll do anything you want, just don’t take her away from me.”
Zelandoni watched the tall, handsome man, face, chest, arms, and legs scratched and in places bleeding, sitting on the bed holding the nearly lifeless woman in his arms like a baby, rocking back and forth, tears streaming down his face, crying for her to come back. She hadn’t seen him cry since he was a small boy. Jondalar didn’t cry. He fought to control his emotions, keep them to himself. Very few people had ever gotten really close to him, except his family and her, and even then, once he reached manhood, there was always some distance, some reserve.
After he returned from his stay with Dalanar, she had often wondered if he would ever really love a woman again, and blamed herself. She knew he still loved her then, and she had been tempted, more than once, to give up the zelandonia and mate him, but as time went along and she never became pregnant, she knew she had made the right choice. She felt sure he would mate someday, and though she had often doubted that he would be capable of giving himself completely to any woman, Jondalar needed children. Children could be loved freely, completely, without reservation, and he needed to love like that.
She had been genuinely happy for him when he returned from his Journey with a woman whom he obviously loved, a woman who was worthy of his love. But she hadn’t realized until then just how much he did love her. The First felt a small twinge of guilt. Maybe she shouldn’t have pushed Ayla so hard to become Zelandoni. Maybe she should have just left the two of them alone. But it was the Mother’s choice, after all.
“She’s so cold. Why is she so cold?” Jondalar said. He stretched her out on the bed, lay down next to her, then half covered her naked body with his own, and pulled the furs over both of them. The wolf jumped up on the bed with them, crowding in close to her other side. Jondalar’s heat filled the space quickly and the wolf’s helped to hold it in. The man held her for a long time, looking at her, kissing her pale, still face, talking to her, pleading with her, begging the Mother for her, until finally his voice, his tears, and heat of his body and the wolf’s began to penetrate her coldest depths.
Ayla wept silently. “You did it! You did it!” the people chanted, accusing her. Then only Jondalar stood there. She heard a wolf howl nearby.
“I’m sorry, Jondalar,” she cried. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
He held out his arms to her. “Ayla,” he gasped. “Give me a son. I love you.”
She started toward the figure of Jondalar standing beside Wolf, and walked between them; then she felt something pulling. Suddenly she was moving, faster, much faster than before, though she felt rooted in place. The mysterious alien clouds appeared and were gone in an instant, yet seemed to take forever. The deep black void swooped by, engulfing her in an unearthly black emptiness that went on endlessly. She fell through the mist, and for a moment saw herself and Jondalar in a bed surrounded by lamps. Then she was inside a frigid, clammy shell. She struggled to move, but she was so stiff, so cold. Finally, her eyelids flickered. She opened her eyes and looked into the tearstained face of the man she loved, and a moment later felt the warm, licking tongue of the wolf.
“Ayla! Ayla! You’re back! Zelandoni! She’s awake! O Doni, Great Mother, thank you. Thank you for giving her back to me,” Jondalar said with a heaving sob. He was holding her in his arms, crying his relief and his love, afraid to hold her too tight for fear he would hurt her, but not ever wanting to let her go. And she didn’t want him to.
Finally he relaxed his embrace to let the Donier look at her. “Get down now, Wolf,” Jondalar said, pushing the animal toward the edge. “You helped her; now let Zelandoni see her.” The wolf jumped off the bed, but sat on the floor looking at them.
The First Among Those Who Served bent over Ayla, and saw open gray-blue eyes and a wan smile. She shook her head in amazement. “I didn’t believe it was possible. I was sure she was gone, lost forever in some dark irretrievable place, where even I could not go to find her to lead her to the Mother. I was afraid the chanting was useless, that nothing could be done to save her. I doubted that anything would ever bring her back, not my most ardent hopes, nor the transcendent wish of every Zelandonii, not even your love, Jondalar. All the zelandonia combined could not have done what you did. I’m almost willing to believe you could have raised her from the Doni’s deepest underworld. I’ve always said the Great Earth Mother would never refuse you anything you asked Her for. I think this proves it.”
The news spread through the Campsite like a wildfire. Jondalar had brought her back. Jondalar had done what the zelandonia could not do. There wasn’t a woman at the Summer Meeting who didn’t wish in her heart that she was loved as much, or a man who didn’t wish he knew a woman whom he could love so strongly. Stories were already beginning, stories that would be told around hearth fires and campfires for years, about Jondalar’s love, so great it brought his Ayla back from the dead.
Jondalar thought about Zelandoni’s comment. He had heard that before though he wasn’t entirely sure what it meant, but it left him feeling uncomfortable to be told that he was so favored by the Mother that no woman could refuse him, not even Doni Herself; so favored that if he ever asked the Mother for anything, She would grant his request. He had also been warned to be careful of what he wished for, because he might get it, although he didn’t really understand what that meant either.
For the first few days, Ayla was utterly exhausted, barely able to move and so weak, there were times when the Donier wondered if she would ever fully recover. She slept a great deal, sometimes lying so still, it was hard to tell if she was still breathing, but her sleep wasn’t always restful. Occasionally, she would lapse into waves of delirium, tossing and turning and speaking out loud, but every time Ayla opened her eyes, Jondalar was there. He hadn’t left her side since she awoke, except to take care of essential needs. He slept on his sleeping furs that he spread out on the floor beside her bed.
Zelandoni wondered, when Ayla seemed to falter, if he wasn’t the only thing that kept her in the world of the living. In fact he was, along with her own inherent will to live, and her years of hunting and exercise, which had given her a strong, healthy body that could recover from devastating experiences, even those that brought her close to death.
Wolf stayed with her most of the time, as well, and seemed to sense when she was ready to wake up. After Jondalar stopped him from jumping up and putting his dirty paws on the bed, Wolf discovered that the height of the bed was just right for him to stand up and lay his head on it to watch her just before she opened her eyes. Jondalar and Zelandoni came to anticipate her waking by the actions of the animal.
Jonayla was so happy to have her mother awake, and Jondy and her mother back together, that she often came into the zelandonia lodge to be with them. Though she didn’t sleep there, if they were both awake, she sometimes stayed awhile, sitting in Jondalar’s lap, or lying beside her mother, even taking a nap with her. Other times she would run in for only a moment, as if to convince herself that all was still well. After she was recovered enough, Ayla usually sent Wolf out with Jonayla, although at first he was torn between staying with the woman and going with the child.
The Donier hovered nearby as well. The First blamed herself for not paying closer attention to the young woman’s condition from the time she first arrived. But Summer Meetings required so much of her time and attention and Ayla had always been hard for her to read. She seldom talked about herself or her problems, and hid her feelings far too well. It was easy to overlook her symptoms of distress.
Ayla looked up from the bed and smiled at the bushy red-haired and bearded giant of a man who was looking down at her. Though not fully recovered, she had recently moved back to the camp of the Ninth Cave. She had been awake, earlier, when Jondalar told her Danug wanted to visit, but she dozed off momentarily before she heard her name softly spoken. Jondalar was sitting beside her, holding her hand, and Jonayla was sitting in his lap. Wolf pounded his tail on the floor beside her bed, in greeting to the young Mamutoi.
“I’m supposed to tell you, Jonayla, that Bokovan and some other children are going to Levela’s hearth to play, and have something to eat. She has some bones for Wolf, too,” Danug said.
“Why don’t you go, Jonayla, and take Wolf,” Ayla said, sitting up. “They would like to see you, and it won’t be long before this Summer Meeting is over. After we go home, you probably won’t see them again until next summer.”
“All right, mother. I’m getting hungry, anyway, and maybe Wolf is too.” The child gave her father and mother a hug, then walked toward the entrance with Wolf behind her. He whined back at Ayla before leaving the lodge, then followed after Jonayla.
“Sit down, Danug,” Ayla said, motioning toward a stool. Then she looked around. “Where’s Druwez?”
Danug sat down beside Ayla. “Aldanor needed a male friend who is not related for something having to do with his upcoming Matrimonial. Druwez agreed to be the one, since I have to fill in as an adopted relative,” Danug said.
Jondalar nodded in understanding. “It’s difficult learning a complete new set of customs. I remember how it was when Thonolan decided to mate Jetamio. Because I was his brother, it made me kin to the Sharamudoi, too, and since I was his only relative, I had to be a part of the ceremonies.”
Though he could speak of the brother he’d lost more easily now, Ayla noticed his expression of regret. It would always be a great sadness to him, she knew.
Jondalar moved closer to Ayla and put his arm around her. Danug smiled at both of them. “First, there is something I need to say to you,” he said with mock severity. “When are you two going to learn who you love? You both have to stop making problems for each other. Listen to me closely: Ayla loves Jondalar and no other man; Jondalar loves Ayla and no other woman. Do you think you can remember that? There never was and never will be anyone else for either one of you. I am going to make a rule that you have to follow for the rest of your lives. I don’t care if everyone else couples with anyone they want; you may only couple with each other. If I ever hear differently, I am going to come back here and tie you both together. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Danug,” Jondalar and Ayla said in unison. She turned to smile at Jondalar, who was smiling back at her; then both grinned at Danug.
“And I’ll tell you a secret. As soon as we can, we’re going to start a baby together,” Ayla said.
“Not yet, though,” Jondalar said. “Not until Zelandoni says you are well enough. But woman, just wait until you are.”
“I’m not sure which Gift is better,” Danug said with a big smile. “The Gift of Pleasure, or the Gift of Knowledge. I think the Mother must love us a lot to make starting a new life such a Pleasure!”
“I think you’re right,” Jondalar said.
“I have tried to translate the Zelandonii Mother’s Song into Mamutoi so I can tell everyone, and when I get back, I’m going to start looking for a mate so I can start a son,” Danug said.
“What’s wrong with a daughter?” Ayla said.
“There’s nothing wrong with a daughter, except I wouldn’t be able to name her. I want a son so I can name him. I’ve never named a child before,” Danug said.
“You’ve never had a child to name before,” Ayla said, laughing.
“Well, that’s true,” Danug said a bit chagrined. “At least none I’ve known of, but you know what I mean. I’ve never had the chance before.”
“I understand how he feels. It doesn’t matter to me whether we have another girl or a boy, but I wonder what it would be like to name a son,” Jondalar said. “But Danug, what if the Mamutoi do not accept the idea that men should name the boys?”
“I just have to make sure that the woman I decide to mate agrees,” Danug said.
“That’s true,” Ayla said. “But why do you have to go back to find a mate, Danug? Why don’t you stay here, like Aldanor? I’m sure you could find a Zelandonii woman who would be pleased to be your mate.”
“And Zelandonii women are certainly beautiful, but in many ways, I’m like Jondalar. Traveling can be exciting, but I need to return to my own people to settle down. Besides, there’s only one woman I would stay here to mate, Ayla,” Danug said, with a wink at Jondalar, “and she’s already claimed.”
Jondalar chuckled, but there was a look in Danug’s eye, a tone in his voice that made Ayla wonder if his jocular statement was said entirely in jest.
“I’m just glad she was willing to come home with me,” Jondalar said. The way Jondalar looked at her with his vivid blue eyes made her tingle all the way to her innermost place. “Danug is right. Doni must really love us to have made making children such a Pleasure.”
“It isn’t all Pleasure for a woman, Jondalar. Giving birth can be very painful,” Ayla said.
“But I thought you said giving birth to Jonayla was easy, Ayla,” Jondalar said, his forehead creased with his familiar frown.
“Even an easy childbirth has some pain, Jondalar. It just wasn’t as bad as I expected,” Ayla said.
“I don’t want to cause you pain,” he said, turning to look at her. “Are you sure we should have another?” Jondalar suddenly remembered that Thonolan’s mate had died giving birth.
“Don’t be silly, Jondalar. Of course we’re going to have another baby. I want one, too, you know. It’s not just you. And it’s not that bad. If you don’t want to start one, though, maybe I can find another man who will,” she said with a teasing smile.
“Oh no you can’t,” Jondalar said, giving her shoulder a hug. “Danug just told you that you may not couple with anyone except me, remember?”
“I never wanted to couple with anyone but you, Jondalar. You are the one who taught me the Mother’s Gift of Pleasure. No one could possibly give me more, maybe because I love you so much,” Ayla said.
Jondalar turned his face away to hide the tears that had come to his eyes, but Danug had looked in another direction and affected not to notice. When Jondalar turned back, he looked at Ayla with great seriousness. “I never told you how sorry I am about Marona. I didn’t really want her that much. She just made it so easy. I didn’t want to tell you because I was afraid it would hurt you. When you found us together, I kept thinking how much you must hate me. I want you to know, I love only you.”
“I know you love me, Jondalar,” Ayla said. “Everyone at this whole Summer Meeting knows you love me. I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t love me. In spite of what Danug said, if you ever need to, even if you just want to, you can couple with anyone you want, Jondalar. I don’t even hate Marona anymore. I don’t blame her for wanting you. Who wouldn’t want you? Sharing the Gift of Pleasure isn’t what makes love. It makes babies, but not love. Love can make Pleasures better, but if you love someone, what difference does coupling with someone else once in a while make? Coupling takes a few moments. How can that be more important than a lifetime of love? Even in the Clan, coupling was done just to relieve a man’s needs. You wouldn’t expect me to break our bond just because you coupled with someone else, would you?”
Danug laughed. “If that were a reason, everyone would have to break his bond. People look forward to Festivals to Honor the Mother, to share Pleasures with someone else once in a while. I’ve heard stories that Talut can still couple with as many as six women in a row at Festivals. Mother always said it just gave her a chance to see if any other man could match him. None ever could.”
“Talut is a better man than I am,” Jondalar said. “There was a time, maybe, but I don’t have the stamina anymore. And to be honest, I don’t have the desire.”
“It may just be stories,” Danug said. “I can’t say that I’ve ever seen him with any woman except mother. He spends a lot of time with other leaders, and she spends most of her time at Meetings visiting with relatives and friends. I think most people just like to tell stories.”
There was a pause in the conversation and each of the young people looked at each other. Then Danug spoke up. “I wouldn’t break the mating bond over it, but to be honest, I really would like it better if the woman I mate would share Pleasures with no one except me.”
“What about during Festivals to Honor the Great Earth Mother?” Jondalar asked.
“I know we should all Honor the Mother at festivals and such, but how would I know the children my mate brought to my hearth were mine if she shares Pleasures with someone else?” Danug said.
Ayla looked at them both, and remembered the words of the First. “If a man loves the children a woman brings to his hearth now, why should knowing who started them make any difference?”
“Maybe it shouldn’t, but I would still want them to be mine,” Danug said.
“If you start a child, does that make him yours? Would you own him, like a personal possession?” Ayla asked. “Would you not love a child you didn’t own, Danug?”
“I don’t mean mine in the sense of owning, but mine in the sense that the child would have come from me,” Danug tried to explain. “I probably would grow to care for any child of my hearth, one that didn’t come from me or even one that did not come from my mate. I loved Rydag as a brother, more than a brother, and he was not Talut’s or Nezzie’s, but I would like to know if a child of my hearth was started by me. A woman doesn’t have to worry. She always knows.”
“I understand how Danug feels, Ayla. It makes me happy to know Jonayla came from me. And everyone knows she did because everyone knows you never chose anyone but me. We always Honored the Mother at Festivals, but we always chose each other.”
“I wonder if you’d be so eager to have children of your own if you had to go through the pain along with your mate,” Ayla said. “Some women would be happy if they never had to have children. Not many, but some.”
The men glanced at each other, but neither one looked at Ayla, feeling slightly embarrassed at voicing personal thoughts that seemed to contradict the customs and beliefs of their people.
“By the way, have you heard that Marona is going to mate again?” Danug said, changing the subject.
“She is?” Jondalar said. “No, I didn’t know. When?”
“In a few days, at the Late Matrimonial, when Folara and Aldanor mate,” Proleva said, just coming in. She was followed by Joharran.
“That’s what Aldanor told me,” Danug said.
Greetings were exchanged, the women hugged, and the leader of the Ninth Cave bent down and touched her cheek with his. Low stools were dragged close to Ayla’s bed.
“Who is she mating?” Ayla asked, after everyone was settled, picking up the thread of the recent disclosure.
“Some friend of Laramar’s who was staying with him and that bunch at the fa’lodge, the one they aren’t using anymore,” Proleva said. “He’s a stranger, but Zelandonii, I understand.”
“He comes from a group of Caves that lie along Big River to the west of here. I heard he came to our Summer Meeting with a message for someone, and decided to stay. I don’t know if he knew them before, but he got along well with Laramar and the rest of that bunch,” Joharran said.
“I think I know the one,” Jondalar said.
“He’s been staying at the camp of the Fifth Cave, since they left that fa’lodge, and Marona has been staying there, too. That’s where he met her,” Proleva said.
“I didn’t think Marona wanted to mate again, and he seems rather young. I wonder why she would choose him,” Jondalar said.
“Maybe she didn’t have much choice,” Proleva said.
“But everyone says she’s so beautiful, she could have almost anyone she wanted,” Ayla said.
“For a night, but not for a mate,” Danug said. “I hear people talk. The men she’s mated before don’t speak very well of her.”
“And she’s never had any children,” Proleva said. “Some people say she can’t have any. That could make her less desirable to some men, but I guess it doesn’t matter to her intended. She is going with him to his Cave.”
“I think I met him,” Ayla said, “when I was walking back from the Lanzadonii camp with Echozar one night. I can’t say that I cared much for him. Why did he move out of that fa’lodge?”
“They all did after their personal things were taken,” Joharran said.
“I heard something about that, but I wasn’t paying much attention at the time,” Jondalar said.
“Someone took things?” Ayla said.
“Someone took personal things from just about everyone who was staying at that fa’lodge,” Joharran said.
“Why would anyone do something like that?” Ayla asked.
“I don’t know, but Laramar was pretty upset when he found out that a new winter outfit he’d just traded for was missing, not to mention his pack carrier and most of his barma. Someone else was missing new mittens, another man lost a good knife, and almost all the food was gone,” Joharran said.
“Does anyone know who did it?” Jondalar asked.
“Two people are missing, Brukeval and Madroman,” Joharran said. “Brukeval left without anything, as far as anyone knows. The other men who were staying at the fa’lodge claim most of his things were still there after he left, but later most of them were missing, and so are Madroman’s.”
“I heard Zelandoni tell someone that Madroman did not return the sacred objects he received as an acolyte,” Proleva said.
“I saw Madroman leaving!” Ayla said, suddenly remembering.
“When?” Joharran asked.
“It was the day the Ninth Cave shared a feast with the Lanzadonii. I was the only one at camp, and just coming out of the lodge. He gave me a look of such hatred, it actually frightened me, but he seemed to be in a big hurry. I remember thinking there was something odd about him. Then I realized I hardly ever saw him without his acolyte tunic, but this time he was wearing regular clothes, except I thought it was strange that his outfit was decorated with Ninth Cave symbols, not Fifth Cave.”
“That’s where Laramar’s new outfit went,” Joharran said. “I wondered if it was him.”
“Do you think Madroman took it?” Ayla said.
“Yes, and everything else that was taken.”
“I think you’re right, Joharran,” Jondalar said.
“I would guess he didn’t want to face people after the disgrace of being rejected by the zelandonia, at least not the people who knew him,” Danug said.
“I wonder where he went,” Proleva said.
“He’s probably going to try to find some other people to live with,” Joharran said. “That’s why he took the things. He knows winter is coming and he didn’t know where he would be staying.”
“What will he do to get some strange group to accept him? He doesn’t have a skill, and he never was much of a hunter. I heard he never went out hunting again after he joined the zelandonia, not even on a drive,” Jondalar said.
“Anyone can do that and almost everyone does. Children love going out and beating the bushes, and making a lot of noise to flush rabbits and other animals out and then chasing them toward hunters or into a net,” Proleva said.
“Madroman does have a skill. That’s why he didn’t return the sacred objects he got from the zelandonia,” Joharran said. “That’s what he’ll do. He’ll be a Zelandoni.”
“But he’s not a Zelandoni!” Ayla said. “He lied about being called.”
“But some strange group of people won’t know that,” Danug said.
“He’s been around the zelandonia for so many years, he knows how to act like one. He’ll lie again,” Proleva said.
“Do you think he would really do that?” Ayla asked, appalled at the very idea.
“You should tell Zelandoni you saw him leave, Ayla,” Proleva said.
“And the other leaders should know,” Joharran said. “Maybe we can bring it up before your meeting tomorrow, Jondalar. At least it will give people something else to talk about besides you.”
Ayla’s eyes opened wide. “So soon?” she said. “Proleva, I am going to be there.”
They were outside on the level ground in front of the sloping sides of the large natural amphitheater. Laramar was seated, and though his face was still somewhat swollen, he appeared to have essentially recovered from the beating he had received at the hands of the man facing him, except for the scars and battered nose from which he would never recover. Jondalar tried not to flinch as he stood in the bright afternoon sunlight looking at the man whose face was so badly damaged. He would not have been recognized by people who knew him well, if they hadn’t known who he was. Originally there had been some talk that Laramar might lose an eye, and Jondalar was grateful that he had not.
It was ostensibly a meeting of the Ninth Cave and the Fifth Cave, with the zelandonia as mediators, but since any interested parties were free to attend, nearly everyone who had come to the Summer Meeting was curious and had indicated “interest.” Though the Ninth Cave would have preferred to have waited until later for this confrontation, after the summer gathering of Zelandonii was over, the Fifth Cave had insisted. Since they were being asked to accept Laramar, they wanted to know what they and Laramar could expect as compensation from Jondalar and the Ninth Cave.
Jondalar and Laramar had met for the first time since the incident just before the public meeting inside the zelandonia lodge, along with Joharran, Kemordan, the leader of the Fifth Cave, each Cave’s Zelandoni, and several other leaders and zelandonia. They knew Marthona was not strong, and she was told that she did not need to be at the meeting, especially since Laramar’s mother was no longer alive, but she would have none of it. Jondalar was her son and she was going to be there. The mates of both of them were not a part of the first meeting either since they both presented complications. Ayla, because she had played such a large role in the incident, and Laramar’s mate, because she did not want to move to the Fifth Cave with him, another aspect that would have to be dealt with.
Jondalar was quick to say how sorry he was, and how much he regretted his actions, but Laramar had nothing but disdain for the tall, handsome brother of the leader of the Ninth Cave. For one of the first times in his life, Laramar had the high ground; he was in the right, he had done nothing wrong, and he wasn’t going to give up any of his advantage.
There was a slight buzz of conversation among the audience when the participants walked out of the lodge as news that Ayla had seen Madroman leaving the Campsite wearing clothing he had very likely stolen from Laramar was passed around. It was followed by an undercurrent of comment speculating about the various ramifications: Jondalar’s and the First’s past history with Madroman, his rejection from the zelandonia and Ayla’s role in it, and why she was the only one who saw him leave. People settled in to watch the events full of anticipation. It wasn’t often that they were presented with the opportunity to observe so much high drama. The whole summer was proving to be an exciting one that would fill many long slow winter days with meat for discussion, and stories for seasoning.
“We have some serious matters to resolve today,” the First started. “These are not matters of the Spirit World but problems between Her children and we ask that Doni observe our deliberations and help us to speak the truth, to think clearly, and to reach fair decisions.”
She took out a small carved sculpture and held it up. It was the figure of a full-bodied woman with the legs tapering to barely suggested feet. Though they could not distinctly see the object she held in her hand, they all knew that it was a donii, a place for the all-encompassing spirit of the Great Earth Mother or at least some essential part of Her nature, to reside. A tall cairn of stones, almost a pillar, with a large base of fairly big stones tapering up to a flattened top of sandy gravel, had been constructed in the center of the level area.
With a decided flourish, the First Among Those Who Served The Mother planted the feet of the donii into the gravel and propped Her up for all to see. The primary purpose of the donii in this context was to prevent deliberate lying, and She was a strong deterrent. When the Mother’s spirit was expressly invoked to watch, everyone knew any lies would be seen by Her and brought to light; while someone might lie and get away with it for the moment, eventually the truth would come out, and usually with far worse repercussions. Not that there was not any great danger of anyone lying today, but it could still be a limiting influence on any tendency to exaggerate.
“Shall we begin,” the First said. “There were many witnesses, so I don’t think we need to go into any great detail about the circumstances. During the recent Festival to Honor the Mother, Jondalar found his mate Ayla sharing the Mother’s Gift of Pleasures with Laramar. Both Ayla and Laramar joined together of their own desire. There was no force, no compulsion. Is that correct, Ayla?”
She hadn’t expected to be questioned so quickly, to have all the attention of the people suddenly brought to bear on her. It caught her by surprise, but she wouldn’t have known how to lie about it if she had wanted to.
“Yes, Zelandoni. That is true.”
“Is that true, Laramar?”
“Yeah, she was more than willing. She came after me,” he said.
The First fought a slight urge to caution him about exaggeration, but continued on. “And then what happened?” She was deciding whether to ask Ayla or Jondalar, but Laramar jumped in.
“You can see what happened. The next thing I know, Jondalar was punching me in the face,” he said.
“Jondalar?”
The tall man bowed his head and swallowed. “That’s what happened. I saw him with Ayla, and I dragged him off her and started hitting him. I know it was wrong. I have no excuse,” Jondalar said, knowing in his heart even as he said it that he would do it again.
“Do you know why you hit him, Jondalar?” the First asked.
“I was jealous,” he mumbled.
“You were jealous, is that what you said?”
“Yes, Zelandoni.”
“If you had to express your jealousy, Jondalar, couldn’t you have just pulled them apart? Did you have to hit him?”
“I couldn’t stop myself. And once I started …” Jondalar shook his head.
“Once he started, no one could stop him, he even hit me!” the leader of the Fifth said. “He was beside himself, in some kind of a frenzy. I don’t know what we would have done if that big Mamutoi hadn’t got hold of him.”
“That’s why he’s so ready to take in Laramar,” Folara whispered to Proleva, but easily heard by those around her. “He’s mad that he couldn’t stop Jondé, and got hit when he tried.”
“He also likes Laramar’s barma, but he may discover that Laramar is no shiny piece of amber,” Proleva said. “He is not exactly the first one I would ask to join my Cave.” She turned her attention back to the center.
“This is the reason,” Zelandoni was saying, “that we try to teach the senselessness of jealousy. It can get out of hand. Do you understand that, Jondalar?”
“Yes, I do. It was stupid of me, and I’m very sorry. I’ll do whatever you say to make up for it. I want to make amends.”
“He can’t make up for it,” Laramar said. “He can’t fix my face, just like he couldn’t put the teeth back in Madroman’s mouth.”
The First gave Laramar a look of annoyance. That was uncalled for, she thought. It wasn’t necessary to bring that up. He doesn’t have the least idea how much Jondalar was provoked in that situation. But she kept her thoughts to herself.
“But reparations were paid,” Marthona said loudly.
“And I expect them to be paid again!” Laramar retorted.
“What do you expect?” the First asked. “What redress are you asking? What do you want, Laramar?”
“What I want is to punch his pretty face in,” Laramar said.
There was a gasp from the audience.
“That is no doubt true, but it is not a remedy allowed by the Mother. Do you have any other thoughts about how you would like him to make amends?” the Donier asked.
Laramar’s mate stood up. “He keeps making bigger dwellings for himself. Why don’t you ask him to make a big new dwelling for your family, Laramar?” she called out.
“That might be a possibility, Tremeda,” the First said, “but where would you want it made, at the Ninth Cave, or the Fifth Cave, Laramar?”
“That’s no compensation for me,” Laramar said. “What do I care what kind of dwelling she lives in? She’ll just turn it into a filthy mess anyway.”
“You don’t care about where your children live, Laramar?” the First asked.
“My children? They’re not mine, not if what you say is true. If coupling is the way they start, I didn’t start any of them … except maybe the first. I haven’t coupled, much less had any ‘Pleasures’ with her in years. Believe me, she’s no Pleasure. I don’t know where those children came from, maybe Mother Festivals—give a man enough to drink and even she might look good—but whoever started them, it wasn’t me. The only thing that woman is good for is drinking my barma,” Laramar sneered.
“That is certainly true. Lanoga has taken care of her siblings more than her mother and now Lanidar is helping. But they are too young to take on so much responsibility,” Proleva said from the audience.
“Laramar, they are still the children of your hearth. It is your responsibility to provide for them,” the One Who Was First said. “You cannot just decide you don’t want them.”
“Why not? I don’t want them. They never meant anything to me. She doesn’t even care about them. Why should I?”
The leader of the Fifth Cave was looking just as horrified as everyone else at Laramar’s callous denunciation of the children of his hearth, and in the audience, Proleva whispered, “I told you he was no shiny piece of amber.”
“Then who do you expect to take care of the children of your hearth, Laramar?” Zelandoni said.
The man stopped and frowned. “For all I care, Jondalar can. There’s nothing he can give me that I want. He can’t give me back my face, and I can’t have the satisfaction of giving him what he gave me. He’s so eager to take care of things, to make amends, let him take care of that lazy, loud-mouthed, manipulating shrew and her brood,” Laramar said.
“He may owe you a lot, Laramar, but that’s too much to ask of a man who has a family of his own, to take on the responsibility of a family the size of yours,” Joharran said.
“Never mind, Joharran. I’ll do it,” Jondalar said. “If that’s what he wants, I’ll do it. If he isn’t going to take responsibility for his own hearth, someone has to. Those children need someone to care about them.”
“Don’t you think you should talk to Ayla about it first?” Proleva said from the audience. “That much responsibility will take away from her own family.” Not that they don’t already take more care of that family than either Laramar or Tremeda, the woman thought, but didn’t say aloud.
“No, Proleva. He’s right,” Ayla said. “I’m responsible, too, for what Jondalar did to Laramar. I didn’t realize what it would come to, but I’m just as much at fault. If taking on the responsibility for his family will satisfy Laramar, then we should do it.”
“Well, Laramar, is that what you want?” the First said.
“Yeah, if it will keep the rest of you off me, why not?” Laramar said, then he laughed. “You’re welcome to her, Jondalar.”
“What about you, Tremeda? Is that satisfactory to you?” Zelandoni said.
“Will he build me a new dwelling, like the one he’s making for her?” she asked, pointing at Ayla.
“Yes, I will make sure you have a new dwelling,” Jondalar said. “Do you want it made at the Ninth Cave or the Fifth?”
“Well, if I’m going to be your second woman, Jondalar,” she said, trying to be coy, “I might as well stay at the Ninth. That’s my home, anyway.”
“Hear me, Tremeda,” Jondalar said, looking directly at her. “I am not taking you as a second woman. I said I would assume the responsibility to provide for you and your children. I said I would build you a dwelling. That is the full extent of my obligation to you. I am doing this as reparation for the injury I did to your mate. In no way are you anything close to a second woman to me, Tremeda! Is that understood?”
Laramar laughed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Jondalar. I told you she was a manipulating shrew. She’ll use you any way she can.” He laughed again. “You know, maybe this isn’t going to be so bad. It just might give me some satisfaction to see you have to put up with her.”
“Are you sure you want to go swimming there, Ayla?” Jondalar asked.
“It was our place before you took Marona there, and it’s still the best place to swim, especially now when the river is so stirred up and muddy downstream. I haven’t had the chance for a good swim since I arrived, and we’ll be leaving soon,” Ayla said.
“But are you sure you’re strong enough to swim?”
“Yes, I am sure, but don’t worry. I plan to spend most of the time lying on the bank in the sun. All I want is to get out of this lodge and spend some time with you away from people for a while, now that I finally got Zelandoni to agree that I’m well enough,” Ayla said. “I was getting ready to get on Whinney and go someplace anyway before too long. I know she’s concerned, but I’m fine. I just need to get out and move around.”
Zelandoni had blamed herself for not paying close enough attention to Ayla and was being—rather uncharacteristically—overprotective. She felt more than a little responsible for the fact that they had almost lost the young woman, and she wasn’t going to let that happen again. Jondalar was in full agreement, and for a while Ayla enjoyed their unaccustomed close attention, but as she gained her strength back, she began to find such doting concern vexing. Ayla had been trying to convince the Donier that she was completely rested and strong enough to ride and swim again, but it wasn’t until the First wanted Wolf out of the way for a while that she finally agreed.
Jonayla and the youngsters her age were again involved with the zelandonia in preparations for a small part they would play in the farewell ceremonies that were being planned to close the Summer Meeting. Wolf was not only a distraction when all the children were together, making it hard for them to concentrate, but it was difficult for Jonayla to both control him and learn what she was supposed to do. When Zelandoni had intimated to Ayla that, while the wolf was certainly welcome, perhaps she could keep the animal with her, it had been the edge Ayla needed to persuade the Donier that she ought to take Wolf, and the horses, away from the Campsite for some exercise.
Ayla was anxious to leave as early as possible the next morning before Zelandoni changed her mind. Jondalar had watered and brushed the horses before the morning meal, and when he tied riding blankets on Whinney and Racer, and fitted halters on Racer and Gray, they knew they were going out, and pranced with anticipation. Though they didn’t plan to ride her, Ayla didn’t want to leave the young mare alone. She was sure Gray would be lonely if she were left behind; horses liked companionship, especially of their own kind, and Gray needed the exercise, too.
The wolf looked up with expectation when Jondalar picked up a pair of pack baskets made to hang across the back of a horse. The carriers were full of various implements and mysterious packages wrapped in pieces of the pale brown material woven from flax fibers that Ayla had made as training samplers, to pass the time while she was recovering. Marthona had arranged to have a small loom made and was teaching her to weave. One of the baskets was covered by a leather hide to spread out on the ground, and the other by the soft yellowish toweling skins that had been gifts of the Sharamudoi.
Wolf bounded on ahead when the man signaled that he could go with them as they left the lodge. Near the horse enclosure, Ayla stopped to pick a few ripe berries hanging from red-stemmed bushes. She brushed the round, powdery blue fruit against her tunic, noticed the deeper blue skin, then popped it in her mouth and, smiling with satisfaction, savored the sweet, juicy taste. As she climbed up on a stump to mount Whinney, she felt good just being outside, knowing she didn’t have to go back in the lodge right away. She was sure she knew every crack that cut through every painted or carved design on the sturdy wooden poles that supported the roof thatch, every smudge of soot that blackened the edges of the smoke hole. She wanted to look at sky and trees, and a landscape uncluttered with lodges.
As they started out, Racer was unusually boisterous and a bit fractious, and communicated some of his unruliness to the two mares, making them harder to handle. Once they got beyond the wooded area, Ayla slipped the halter off Gray so she could go at her own pace, and by tacit agreement, Ayla and Jondalar urged their mounts to a gallop and let them go at full speed. By the time the animals eased off of their own accord, they had worked off their excess energy and were more relaxed, but not Ayla. She was exhilarated. She had always loved riding fast, and after being kept close to camp, it was especially exciting.
They rode along at a more leisurely pace across a landscape contoured by the deep relief of high hills, limestone cliffs, and river-cut valleys. Though the noon sun was still hot most days, the season was turning. Mornings were often cool and crisp, and evenings overcast or rainy. Leaves were transforming their lush green of full summer into the yellows and occasional reds of autumn. The grasses of the open plains shaded from deep gold and rich brown to the pale yellow and grayish dun of the natural hay that would stand in the fields throughout most of the winter, but the leaves of certain forbs had turned to shades of red. Single plants or small clumps of the herbs suddenly appearing along their way stood out as bright spots of color that delighted Ayla, but it was the occasional south-facing wooded hillside that made her catch her breath with its dazzling display. From a distance, the colorful brush and trees gave an impression of large bouquets of bright flowers.
Gray was content to follow along riderless, stopping now and then to graze, and Wolf poked his nose into hillocks, pockets of brush, and patches of tall grass as he traced his own path of invisible scents and secret sounds. Their route traced a broad circle that eventually took them back toward the Meeting Campsite from the upstream direction of The River. But they didn’t return to camp. They cut in alongside the smaller waterway that wound through the woods to the north of the Ninth Cave’s camp and, near the time the sun reached its zenith, they found their way to the deep swimming hole at a sharp bend in the smaller stream. The trees provided dappled shade for the secluded beach of sandy gravel.
The sun felt pleasantly warm as Ayla lifted her leg over and slid down from Whinney. She unfastened the pack baskets and untied the riding blanket, and while Jondalar spread out the large hide, she pulled out a leather drawstring bag and hand-fed the dun-yellow mare some mixed grains, mostly oats, then gave her some affectionate strokes and scratches. After a few more handfuls she did the same for Gray, who had been nudging her for attention.
Jondalar fed and fondled Racer. The stallion was still more unmanageable than usual, though he calmed down with the food and handling, but Jondalar didn’t want to go after him if he decided to wander off. With a long rope attached to his halter, he hitched the horse to a small tree. Jondalar suddenly recalled that he had been considering letting the stallion go to find a place for himself with other horses on the open plains, and wondered if he should, but the man wasn’t ready yet to give up the company of the magnificent animal.
Wolf, who had been chasing his own whims, suddenly appeared from behind a screen of brush. Ayla had brought a meaty bone for him, but before she pulled it out of the pack basket, she decided to give him some attention, too. She tapped her shoulder and braced herself to receive the weight of the huge wolf as he jumped up on his hind legs and supported himself with his paws in front of her shoulders. He licked her neck, then gently held her jaw in his teeth. She returned the gesture in kind, then signaled him down, and hunkered in front of him, taking his head between her hands. She rubbed and scratched behind his ears and roughed up the thickening fur around his neck, then sat down on the ground and just hugged him. She knew the wolf had been there for her, too, as much as Jondalar, when she was recovering from her perilous Journey to the world of the spirits.
As often as he’d seen it, the tall man still marveled at her way with the wolf, and as comfortable as he was with the animal himself, he still reminded himself occasionally that Wolf was a hunting animal. A killing animal. Others of his kind stalked, killed, and ate animals larger than themselves. Wolf could as easily tear Ayla’s throat out as caress it gently with his teeth, yet he trusted this animal completely with his woman and his child. He had seen the love Wolf felt for them both and though he couldn’t fathom how it was possible, at a basic level, he understood it. He firmly believed that Wolf’s feeling for him was very much like his feeling for the wolf. The animal trusted him with the woman and child he loved, but Jondalar had no doubt that if Wolf ever thought that the man would cause harm to either one of them, he wouldn’t hesitate to stop him any way he could, even if it meant killing him. He would do the same.
Jondalar enjoyed watching Ayla with the wolf. But then he loved watching her no matter what she was doing, especially now that she was nearly her old self and they were back together. He’d hated leaving her behind when he left with the Ninth Cave for the Summer Meeting, and had missed her terribly, in spite of his diversion with Marona. After feeling sure he had lost her, first because of his own actions, and then, more desperately, because of the juice from the roots she had taken, he could hardly believe they were together again. He had so thoroughly persuaded himself that she was forever gone from him that he had to keep looking at her, smiling at her, watching her smile back to believe that she was still his mate, his woman; that they were riding the horses, going for a swim, being together just as though nothing had happened.
It made him think of their long Journey together, their adventures, and the people they had met along the way. There were the Mamutoi, the mammoth hunters who had adopted Ayla, and the Sharamudoi, among whom his brother Thonolan had found a mate, though her death had killed his spirit. Tholie and Markeno, as well as the others, had wanted Ayla and him to stay, especially after she had used her medicine skills to straighten Roshario’s broken arm, which had been healing badly. They had even met Jeran, a hunter from the Hadumai, the people he and Thonolan had visited. And of course the S’Armunai, whose hunters, the Wolf Women, had captured him, and Attaroa, their headwoman, who had tried to kill Ayla, until Wolf stopped her the only way he could, by killing her. And the Losadunai …
He suddenly remembered when they had stopped to visit the Losadunai on their long Journey from the land of the mammoth hunters. They lived on the other side of the glaciered highland to the east, where the Great Mother River began, and their language had enough similarities to Zelandonii that he could understand most of it, although Ayla with her Gift for languages had quickly learned it even better. The Losadunai were among the best known of the Zelandonii neighbors, and travelers from both often visited with each other, although crossing the glacier could be an obstacle.
There had been a Mother Festival while they were visiting, and just before it started, Jondalar and Losaduna had conducted a private ceremony. Jondalar had asked the Great Mother for a child, born to Ayla, to be born to his hearth, one born of his spirit, or his essence, as Ayla always said it. He had also made a special request. He had asked that if Ayla ever became pregnant with a child of his spirit, he wanted to know for sure that it was from him. Jondalar had often been told that he was favored by the Mother, so favored that no woman could refuse him, not even Doni Herself.
He fully believed that when Ayla was lost in the void after using the dangerous roots again, the Great Mother had granted his impassioned entreaty; she had given him what he wished for, longed for, what he had asked for, and in his mind he fervently thanked her again. But suddenly he understood that the Mother had also granted the request he had made in the special ceremony with the Losaduna. He knew that Jonayla was his child, the child of his essence, and he was happy for that.
He knew that all the children born to Ayla would be of his spirit, his essence, because of who she was, because she loved only him, and it pleased him to know that. And he knew he would love only her, no matter what. But this new Gift of Knowledge, he knew it would change things and couldn’t help but wonder how much.
He wasn’t the only one. Everyone was thinking about it, but one in particular. The woman who was the First Among Those Who Served The Great Earth Mother was sitting quietly in the zelandonia lodge thinking about the new Gift of Knowledge and knew it would change the world.