The Land of Painted Caves

Chapter 30

She could hardly wait until Marthona woke up the next morning to tell her that she thought it was the time of the Summer Longday. The woman's reaction was mixed. She was pleased for Ayla, but she also knew that it would not be long before Ayla would be going to the Summer Meeting and she'd be left alone. Not really alone, she knew; all the others would still be there, but Ayla had been wonderful company, enough so that she hardly noticed the absence of so many of her loved ones. She even noticed that the infirmities that kept her from the Summer Meeting seemed less. The young woman's medicinal skills, the special teas, poultices, massages, and other practices all seemed to help. She was feeling much better. Marthona was going to miss her greatly.

The sun seemed to stand still, to set in almost the same location for seven days, but only three that Ayla felt certain of. There did seem to be some movement on the two before and the two after, although less than normal, and then to her amazement, she could see that the place where the sun set had definitely reversed. It was exciting to watch the change in direction, and to realise that the sun would keep going back the way it had come until the Winter Shortday.

She had watched the previous Winter Shortday, along with Zelandoni and several other people, but she hadn't felt the same sense of excitement, although that one was always more important to most people. It was the Shortday that promised that the deep cold of winter would end and the warmth of summer would return, and was celebrated with great enthusiasm.

But this Summer Longday was very important to Ayla. She had seen and verified it herself, and she felt a great sense of accomplishment, and relief. It also meant her year of watching was over. She would watch a few more days, and continue to mark, just to see if, and how, the setting places changed, but she was already thinking of leaving for the Summer Meeting.

The next night, after she had again verified that the sun had reversed its direction, Ayla was feeling restless up on the high cliff. She had been jumpy and nervous all day, and thought it might be her pregnancy, or perhaps the relief of knowing she would not have to spend many more lonely nights watching the skies. She tried to compose herself and began repeating the words to the Mother's Song to calm herself. It was still her favourite, but as she repeated the verses to herself, she only felt more tension.

'Why am I so jittery? I wonder if a storm is coming. That sometimes makes me tense,' she said to herself. She realised she was talking to herself. Perhaps I should meditate, she thought. That should help me relax. Maybe I'll make a cup of tea.

She went back to the place where she had been sitting, stirred up the fire, filled a small cooking container with water from her waterbag, and sorted through the collection of herbs she kept in a medicine bag attached to her waist thong. She kept the dried leaves in packets, tied with various types and thicknesses of cord and twine, with various numbers of knots tied on the ends, so she could distinguish between them, the way Iza had taught her.

As she felt the various packets in the simple leather pouch, even with a fire and moonlight, it was too dark to see the differences, and she had to distinguish between the various herbs and medicines by feel and smell alone. She recalled her first medicine bag, given to her by Iza. It had been made from the entire waterproof hide of an otter with its innards removed through the large opening in the neck. She had made several reproductions of it and still had the last version of it that she had made. Though worn and shabby she couldn't bear to throw it out. She had thought about making a new one again. It was a Clan medicine bag, and displayed a unique power. Even Zelandoni had been impressed when she first saw it, realising it was special just from the look of it.

Ayla selected a couple of packets. Most of her herbs were medicinal, but some only mildly so and posed no harm if drunk for pleasure, such as mint or chamomile, which were good for soothing upset stomachs and aiding digestion, but were tasty in their own right. She decided on a mint mixture that included an herb to help her relax, and felt for the packet and sniffed it. It definitely was mint. Pouring some into the palm of her hand, she added it to the steaming water, and after it had steeped for a while, she poured herself a cup. She drank it down, partly for thirst, and then poured a second cup to sip on. The taste seemed a little off; she would have to get some fresher mint, she thought, but it wasn't that bad, and she was still thirsty.

When she finished it, she composed herself, then began to breathe deeply, the way she had been taught. Slowly, deeply, she said to herself. Think of clear, think of the colour called clear, of a clear creek running over round stones, think of a clear cloudless sky with only the light of the sun, think of emptiness.

She found herself staring at the moon, less than a quarter last time she looked, but now big and round in the night sky. It seemed to grow larger, filling her vision, and she felt herself being pulled into it faster and faster. She tore her eyes away from the moon and got up.

She walked slowly toward the large, tilted boulder. 'That stone is glowing! No, I'm imagining things again. It's just the moonlight. It's a different kind of stone from the rest; maybe it just shines more in the light of a full moon.'

She closed her eyes, it seemed for a long time. When she opened them, the moon attracted her again; the large full moon was drawing her in. Then she looked around. She was flying! Flying without wind or sound. She looked down. The cliff and river were gone and the land below was unfamiliar. For an instant she thought she would fall. She felt dizzy. Everything was spinning. Bright colours formed a vortex of shimmering light around her, spinning faster and faster.

Ayla came to a sudden halt and was back on the top of the cliff again. She found herself concentrating on the moon, big and huge, and growing larger, filling her vision. She was pulled into it, and then she was flying again, flying the way she had done when she used to assist Mamut. She looked down and saw the stone. It was alive, glowing with spirals of pulsating light. She was drawn toward it, felt captured by the movement. She stared as lines of energy, emerging from the ground, wound around the huge, perilously balanced column, then disappeared into a corona of light at the top. She was floating just above the glowing rock, staring down into it.

It was brighter than the moon and lighted the landscape around it. No wind blew, not the slightest breeze, no leaf or branch stirred, but the ground and the air around her were alive with movement, filled with shapes and shadows flitting about, fleeting, insubstantial forms darting in random motion, glowing with faint energy akin to the light from the stone. As she watched, their motion took shape, developed purpose. The shapes were coming toward her, coming after her! She felt a tingling sensation; her hair rose straight up. Suddenly she was scrambling down the steep path, stumbling and slipping with fear. When she reached the abri, she ran towards the porch, lit by the moonlight.

Lying beside Marthona's bed where he had been told to stay, Wolf raised his head and whimpered.

Ayla raced across the porch toward Down River, then down to The River, and followed the path along it. She felt charged with energy, and ran now for the joy of it, no longer chased, but pulled by some incomprehensible attraction. She splashed across the river at the Crossing, and kept going, it seemed forever. She was approaching a tall cliff that jutted out by itself, a familiar cliff, yet totally unfamiliar.

She came to a inclined path and started climbing, her breath tearing from her throat in ragged gasps, but she was unable to stop. At the top of the path was the dark hole of a cave. She ran into it, into a black so thick she could almost grasp it in her hands, then stumbled on the uneven floor and fell heavily. Her head hit the stone wall.

When she woke, there was no light; she was in a long black tunnel, but somehow she could see. The walls glowed with faint iridescence. Moisture glistened. When she sat up, her head hurt, and for a moment she could only see red. She felt as though the walls were racing past her, but she hadn't moved. The the iridescence shimmered again, and it was no longer dark. The rock walls glowed with eerie colour, fluorescent greens, glowing reds, lustrous blues, pale luminous whites.

She got up and stood next to the wall, and felt the slick cold wetness as she followed the wall, which became an icy blue-green. She was no longer in a cave, but in a sheer crevasse deep in a glacier. Large plane surfaces reflected fleeting, darting, ephemeral shapes. Above her the sky was a deep purple blue. A glaring sun blinded her, and her head hurt. The sun came closer and filled the crevasse with light, but it was a crevasse no longer.

She was in a swirling river, being carried along in its current. Objects floated past, caught in eddies and whirling back-currents that turned faster and faster. She was caught in a whirlpool, turning, turning, round and round. It sucked her down. In a vertigo of spinning motion, the river closed over her head, and everything was black.

She was in a deep, empty, wrenching void, flying; flying faster than she could comprehend. Then her motion slowed and she found herself in a deep fog that glowed with light closing in on her. The fog opened to reveal a strange landscape. Geometric shapes in fluorescent greens, glowing reds, lustrous blues repeated themselves over and over again. Unfamiliar structures rose high in the air. Broad ribbons of white rolled out along the ground, luminous white, full of shapes speeding along it, speeding after her.

She was petrified with fear and felt a tickle probing the edge of her mind that seemed to recognise her. She shrank back, pulled away, feeling her way along the wall as fast as she could. She came to an end as panic filled her. She dropped down to the ground and felt a hole ahead. It was a small hole she could enter only by crawling. She skinned her knees on the rough ground, but didn't notice. The hole grew smaller; she could go no farther. Then she was speeding through a void again, so fast she lost all sense of motion.

She wasn't moving; the black around her was. It closed in, smothering her, drowning her, and she was in the river again and the current was pulling her. She was tired, exhausted; the river drew her into the current as it raced toward the sea, the warm sea. She felt a sharp pain deep inside, and felt the warm, salty waters flooding around her. She breathed in the smell of it, the taste of the waters, and felt she was floating peacefully in the tepid liquid.

But it wasn't water, it was mud. She gasped for breath as she tried to crawl out of the slime; then the beast that was chasing her grabbed her. She doubled up and cried out with pain as it crushed her. She was burrowing though the mud, trying to crawl out of the deep hole the crushing beast had pulled her into, trying to escape.

Then she was free, climbing a tree, swinging from its branches, driven by drought and thirst to the edge of the sea. She plunged in, embraced the water, and grew larger, more buoyant. Finally standing upright, she gazed out at a vast grassland and waded toward it.

But the water dragged against her. She fought to haul herself from the resistant tide; then exhausted, she collapsed. Waves lapping on the shore washed over her legs, pulling her back. She felt the pull, the pain, the grievous, wrenching, tearing pain that threatened to pull her insides out. With a gush of warm liquid, she gave in to the demand.

She crawled a little farther, leaned back against a wall, closed her eyes, and saw a rich steppeland, bright with spring flowers. A cave lion loped toward her in slow, graceful motion. She was in a tiny cave, crunched into a small declivity. She grew to fill the cave as the cave expanded. The walls breathed, expanding, contracting, and she was in a womb, a huge black womb deep in the earth. But she was not alone.

Their forms were vague, transparent; then the shapes coalesced into recognisable forms. Animals, every kind of animal she had ever seen, and birds, and fish, and insects, and some she was sure she had never seen before. They formed a procession, without order or pattern, one seeming to flow into the other. An animal became a bird or a fish, or another bird or animal or insect. A caterpillar became a lizard, then a bird, which grew into a cave lion.

The lion stood and waited for her to follow. Together they went through passages, tunnels, corridors, the walls becoming shapes that thickened and took form as they approached, and grew translucent, fading into the wall as they passed. A procession of woolly mammoths lumbered along through a vast, grassy steppe; then a herd of bison overtook them, and formed their own rank in their place.

She watched two reindeer approach each other. They touched noses; then the female dropped down to her knees, and the male reached down and licked her. Ayla was moved by the tender scene; then her attention was drawn by two horses, male and female. The female was in heat and moved in front of the male, making herself available as he prepared to mount.

She turned in another direction and followed the lion down another long corridor. At the end of the tunnel, she came to a rather large, rounded womb-like niche. She heard a distant pounding that drew closer as a bison herd appeared and filled the niche. They stopped to rest and graze.

But the pounding continued; the walls were throbbing in a slow, steady beat. The hard rock floor seemed to give under her feet and the throbbing became a deep, earthy voice, at first so faint she could hardly detect it. Then it grew louder and she recognised the sound. It was the talking drum of the Mamutoi! Only among the mammoth hunters had she ever heard a drum like that.

The instrument, made of a mammoth bone, had such tonal resonance and variation when hit with a modified antler beater that it could be rapidly tapped at variously discrete areas in such a way that it approximated the sound of a voice speaking words. The words, spoken with a staccato throbbing, did not quite match a human voice, but they were words. They had a slightly ambiguous vibrato quality, which added a touch of mystery and expressive depth, but played by someone with sufficient skill, they were distinctly words. The drum could literally be made to talk.

The rhythm and pattern of the words made by the drum began to sound familiar. Then she heard the high-pitched resonance of a flute, and singing along with it was a sweet, high voice, a voice that sounded like the Mamutoi woman Fralie, whom Ayla had known. Fralie had been pregnant, a precarious pregnancy that she nearly lost. Ayla had helped her, but even with her help, the baby had been born early. But her daughter had lived, and became healthy and strong.

Sitting inside the round niche, Ayla discovered her face was wet with tears. She was crying great, heaving sobs, as though she felt she had suffered a devastating loss. The sound of the drum grew stronger, overcoming her anguished lament. She was recognising sounds, discerning words.

Out of the darkness, the chaos of time,The whirlwind gave birth to the Mother sublime.She woke to Herself knowing life had great worth,The dark empty void grieved the Great Mother Earth.The Mother was lonely. She was the only.

It was the Mother's Song! Sung, as she had never heard it sung before. If only she had the voice to sing, that's how she would sing it. It was both deep and earthy like a drum and high and resonant like a flute, and the deep, rounded niche reverberated with the rich, vibrant sound.

The voice filled her head with the words; she felt them more than heard them, and the feeling was so much more than the words. She anticipated each line before it came, and when it came it was fuller, more eloquent, more profound. It seemed to go on forever, but she didn't want it to stop, and as it neared the end, she felt a deep sadness.

The Mother was pleased with the pair She created,She taught them to love and to care when they mated.She made them desire to join with each other,The Gift of their Pleasures came from the Mother.Before She was through, Her children loved too.

But when Ayla anticipated no more, the voice did not stop.

Her last Gift, the Knowledge that man has his part.His need must be spent before new life can start.It honours the Mother when the couple is paired,Because woman conceives when Pleasures are shared.Earth's Children were blessed. The Mother could rest.

The words came as a gift, a benediction soothing her pain. The Mother was telling her she was right; she had been right all along. She'd always known; now it was confirmed. She was sobbing again, still feeling pain, but now it was mixed with joy. She was crying with grief and happiness both as the words repeated in her mind, over and over.

She heard the growl of a lion, and watched her totem spirit lion turn to go. She tried to get up, but felt too weak, and called out to the animal.

'Baby! Baby, don't go! Who will lead me out of here?'

The animal loped down the tunnel, then stopped and was coming toward her, but it wasn't the lion that was approaching. Suddenly, the animal leaped at her, and began licking her face. Ayla shook her head, feeling shaky and confused.

'Wolf? Is it you, Wolf? How did you get here?' she said, hugging the great beast.

As she sat holding on to the wolf, her visions of the bison in the niche faded and grew dark. The scenes on the walls of the tunnels were getting dim, too. She reached for a wall to steady herself, then felt along the stone to move out of the niche. She sat on the ground and closed her eyes, trying to overcome her spinning head. When she tried to open her eyes, she wasn't sure that she had. It was absolutely dark, whether her eyes were open or closed, and she felt a tingling lick of fear crawl up her spine. How was she going to find her way out?

Then she heard Wolf whine, and felt his tongue on her face. She reached out for him and her nervousness eased. She groped for the stone wall beside her, and at first felt nothing, but as she kept reaching, her shoulder bumped the stone. There was a space under one wall, unnoticed because it was so close to the ground, but as she was feeling her way, her hand touched something that was not stone.

She pulled it back quickly, then realising that it was familiar, she reached in again. The cave was blacker than night, and she tried to discover what it was by feel. It had a soft suede feel, like well-scraped buckskin leather. She pulled out a leather-wrapped bundle. Examining it in her hands, she located a thong or strap, unwrapped it, and found an opening. It seemed to be a carrier pack of some sort, a soft leather pouch suspended from a strap. Inside, she found an empty waterbag — it made her realise that she was thirsty — a fur something, perhaps a cloak, and she could feel and smell the remnants of some uneaten food.

She closed it and put it over her shoulder, then pulled herself up and stood next to the wall, fighting a wave of dizziness and nausea. She felt something warm run down the inside of her leg. The wolf was drawn to sniff her, but she had trained him out of that habit long before, and pushed his inquisitive nose away.

'We need to find our way out of here, Wolf. Let's go home,' she said, but as she started walking, feeling her way along the damp wall, she realised how weak and exhausted she was.

The floor was uneven and slippery, littered with broken pieces of stone intermixed with slick, clayey mud. Pillars of stalagmites, some as thin as twigs and some as massive as ancient trees, seemed to grow from the floor. The tops, when she happened to feel them, were wet from the inexorable drips of calcareous water falling from stalactities, their stone icicle counterparts reaching down from the ceiling. After hitting her head on one, she tried to be more careful. How had she ever got so far into the cave?

The wolf ranged ahead a short ways, then came back to her, and at one place urged her away from a wrong turn. When she felt the ground rise under her, she knew she was getting closer to the entrance. She had been in the cave often enough to recognise the place, but trying to climb up the tumbled stone, she felt a wave of dizziness that brought her to her knees. It seemed much farther than she remembered, and she had to stop and rest several times before reaching a smallish narrow opening. Although the entire cave was sacred, there was a natural barrier of rock that partitioned the cave, separating the more mundane beginning section from the inner profoundly sacred region. The hole was the only way through, an entrance into the Great Mother's underworld.

She noticed the temperature starting to grow slightly warmer once she was beyond the obstruction, but it made her shiver as she became aware of how cold she was. After a turn, she thought she saw a hint of light ahead and and tried to hurry. She was sure when she reached the next turn. She could see the wet texture of the cave walls glistening, and ahead the wolf jogging towards a faint glow. When she rounded a corner, she welcomed the dim light coming in from outside, though her eyes had become so accustomed to the dark, it was almost too brilliant. She almost ran when she saw the opening ahead.

Ayla staggered out of the cave, blinking her watering eyes, which washed streaks down her muddy cheeks. Wolf crowded in close to her. When she could finally see, she was surprised to discover the sun high overhead, and several people staring at her. The two hunters, Lorigan and Forason, and Jeviva, the pregnant woman's mother, held back at first, looking at her with a suggestion of awe, and their greeting was somewhat subdued, but when she stumbled and fell they rushed to help. They eased her to sit up, and when she saw their concern on their faces, she felt a great relief.

'Water,' she said. 'Thirsty.'

'Let's get her some water,' Jeviva said. She had noticed blood on Ayla's legs and clothing but didn't say anything.

Lorigan opened his waterbag and gave it to her. She drank greedily, letting it run out of her mouth in her hurry. Water had never tasted so good. She smiled when she finally stopped, but did not give up the waterbag.

'Thank you. I was ready to lick the water off the walls.'

'There have been times when I felt that way,' Lorigan said with a smile.

'How did you know where I was? And that I would be coming out?' Ayla asked.

'I saw the wolf run in this direction,' Forason said, nodding in the animal's direction, 'and when I told Marthona, she said you were probably in here. She told us to come and wait for you. She said you might need help. One or another of us has been here ever since. Jeviva and Lorigan just came to relieve me.'

'I've seen some of the zelandonia come back from their "calling" before. Some were so exhausted, they couldn't walk. Some don't come back,' Jeviva said. 'How do you feel?'

'Very tired,' Ayla said. 'And still thirsty.' She took another drink, then handed the waterbag back to Lorigan. The carrier pack she had found inside slid off when Ayla put her arm down. She had forgotten she had it. Now that she was in the light, she could see that distinctive designs had been painted on it. She held it out. 'I found this in there. Does anyone know who it belongs to? Someone may have tucked it out of the way and forgotten about it.'

Lorigan and Jeviva looked at each other; then Lorigan said, 'I've seen Madroman carrying that around.'

'Have you looked inside it?' Jeviva said.

Ayla smiled. 'I couldn't see to look. I didn't have a light, but I did try to feel,' she said.

'You were in there in the dark?' Forason said, full of incredulous wonder.

'Never mind,' Jeviva said, shushing him. 'It's not your concern.'

'I'd like to see what's in that,' Lorigan said, giving Jeviva a significant glance. Ayla handed it to him. He pulled out the fur cloak and shook it out to expose it. The fur was made of squares and triangles of various types and shades from different animals sewn together into the characteristic pattern of a zelandonia acolyte.

'That does belong to Madroman. I saw him wearing it last year when he came around telling Jeralda what to do if she wanted to keep the baby,' Jeviva said with a tone of disdain. 'She held that one nearly six moons. He said she needed to appease the Mother, and told her to perform all kinds of rituals, but when Zelandoni found her walking in circles outside, she made her go in and lie down right away. Zelandoni said she needed to rest, or she would shake the baby loose too soon. The Donier said the only thing wrong with her was that she has a slippery womb and tends to drop them too easy. She lost that one. It would have been a boy.' The woman looked at Lorigan. 'What else is in there?'

He reached inside the pouch and pulled out the empty waterbag without comment, holding it up for all to see; then he looked inside and dumped the remaining contents out on top of the cloak. Partially chewed pieces of dried meat and a hunk of a travelling cake fell out, along with a small flint blade and a firestone. Among the crumbs there also appeared to be a few wood splinters and pieces of charcoal.

'Wasn't Madroman bragging before they left for the Summer Meeting that he had been "called" and was finally going to be Zelandoni this year?' Lorigan said. He lifted the waterbag. 'I don't think he was very thirsty when he came out of that cave.'

'Did you say you were planning to go to the Summer Meeting later, Ayla?' Jeviva said.

'I was thinking of going in a few days. Maybe now I'll wait a while,' Ayla said. 'But yes, I do plan to go.'

'I think you should take this with you,' Jeviva said, carefully wrapping the food remains, splinters, fire-making equipment and waterbag in the cloak, and stuffing the cloak back in the carrier pouch, 'and tell Zelandoni where you found it.'

'Can you walk?' the older hunter said.

Ayla tried to stand, and felt overcome with vertigo. For a moment everything went dark and she fell back. Wolf whimpered and licked her face.

'Stay there,' the older hunter said. 'Come on, Lorigan. We need to make a litter to carry her.'

'If I rest, I think I can walk,' Ayla said.

'No, I don't think you should,' Jeviva said, then to the hunters, 'I'll wait with her until you come back with the litter.'

Ayla sat back against a stone, feeling grateful. Maybe she could have walked all the way to the Ninth Cave, but she was glad she wouldn't have to. 'Perhaps you're right, Jeviva. I seem to get a little dizzy now and then.'

'No wonder,' Jeviva said under her breath. She had noticed a fresh blood stain on the stone when Ayla tried to stand up. I think she lost a baby in there, the woman thought. What a terrible sacrifice to make to become Zelandoni, but she's not a cheat, not like that Madroman.

'Ayla? Ayla? Are you awake?'

Ayla opened her eyes and saw a blurry image of Marthona looking down at her with concern.

'How do you feel?'

Ayla thought about it. 'I hurt. All over,' she said in a hoarse whisper.

'I hope I didn't wake you. I heard you talking — maybe you were dreaming. Zelandoni warned me this might come. She didn't think it would be so soon, but she said it was possible. She told me not to stop you, and she told me not to let Wolf follow you, but she gave me some tea to fix for you when you came back.' She had a steaming cup of liquid, but put it down to help prop Ayla up.

The tea was hot, but not too hot, and Ayla was grateful when she felt it slide down her throat. She was still thirsty, but she lay back down, too tired to sit up. Her head started to clear. She was in her dwelling, in her own bed. She looked around and saw Wolf beside Marthona. He whined with concern and drew closer to her. She reached out to touch him and he licked her hand.

'How did I get here?' she asked. 'I don't remember much after I got out of the cave.'

'The hunters carried you here on a stretcher. They said you tried to walk, and then fainted. You ran down from your watching place and apparently all the way to the Deep Hollow of Fountain Rocks. You weren't yourself and went in without a fire or anything. When Forason came and told me you had come out, I couldn't get there. I've never felt so useless in my life,' Marthona said.

'I'm just glad you're here, Marthona,' Ayla said, then closed her eyes again.

The next time she opened her eyes, only Wolf was there, keeping a vigil beside her bed. She smiled at him, reached over to pat his head, and scratched under his chin. He put his paws on the bed and tried to edge closer, close enough to lick her face. She smiled again, then pushed him away and tried to sit up. The groan of pain was involuntary, but it brought Marthona in a hurry.

'Ayla! What's wrong?' she said.

'I didn't know so many parts of me could hurt at the same time,' Ayla said. The look of concern on Marthona's face was so strong, it was almost a caricature, and brought a smile to the young woman's face. 'But I think I'll live.'

'You have bruises and scrapes all over, but I don't think anything is broken,' Marthona said.

'How long have I been here?'

'More than a day. You got here yesterday, late in the afternoon. The sun went down not long ago.'

'How long was I gone?' Ayla asked.

'I don't know when you went into the cave, but from the time you left here until you got back, it was more than three days, almost four.'

Ayla nodded. 'I have no sense of the time that passed at all. I remember parts, some very clearly. It feels like something I dreamed, but different.'

'Are you hungry? Thirsty?' Marthona asked.

'I'm thirsty,' Ayla said, then felt an overwhelming dryness, as though the saying of it made her realise how dehydrated she was. 'Very thirsty.'

Marthona left and came back with a waterbag and a cup to drink from. 'Do you want to sit up, or should I just prop up your head?'

'I'd rather try to sit up.'

She rolled on her side, trying to muffle her groans, then got up on one elbow, breaking through a scab that had been forming over a bad scrape, and pushed herself up to sit on the edge of the bed platform. She felt a moment of dizziness, but it passed. She was more surprised at how much she hurt inside. Marthona poured water in the cup and Ayla took it in both hands. She drank it down without stopping, then held it out for more. She seemed to remember gulping down water from a waterbag when she first came into the light. She finished the second cup only a little more slowly.

'Are you hungry yet? You haven't had anything to eat,' Marthona said.

'My stomach hurts,' Ayla said.

'I imagine it does,' Marthona said, looking away.

Ayla frowned. 'Why should my stomach hurt?'

'You're bleeding, Ayla. You probably have cramps, and more.'

'Bleeding? How can I be bleeding? I've missed three moontimes, I'm pregnant … Oh, no!' Ayla cried. 'I've lost the baby, haven't I?'

'I think so, Ayla. I'm not expert in those things, but every woman knows you can't be pregnant and bleed at the same time, at least not as much as you have. You were bleeding when you came out, and a lot since then. I think it may take a while for you to gain your strength. I'm sorry, Ayla. I know you wanted this baby,' Marthona said.

'The Mother wanted her more,' Ayla said in a dry monotone of grief-stricken shock. She lay back down and stared up at the underside of the limestone overhang. She didn't even realise when she fell asleep again.

The next time she woke, Ayla had a strong urge to pass water. It was obviously nighttime, dark, but several lamps were burning. She looked around and saw Marthona asleep on some cushions beside the bed platform. Wolf was beside the old woman with his head up, looking at her. He's got two of us to worry and watch over now, she thought. She rolled to her side and pulled herself up again, sitting on the bed platform for a while before she tried to get up. She was stiff, and still sore and achy, but she felt stronger. Carefully, she eased herself to her feet. Wolf stood up, too. She signalled him down again, then took a step toward the night basket near the entrance.

She wished she had thought to take some changes of absorbent padding with her. She had been bleeding quite heavily. As she started back to her sleeping place, Marthona approached, bringing her a change.

'I didn't mean to wake you,' Ayla said.

'You didn't. Wolf did, but you should have. Would you like some water? I also have some stew, if you're ready to eat,' Marthona said.

'Water would be nice, and maybe a little stew,' Ayla said, returning to the night basket to change to clean padding. Movement had eased her soreness.

'Where do you want to eat? In bed?' the woman asked as she limped to the cooking area. She, too, was stiff and sore. Her sleeping place and position had not been good for her arthritis.

'No, I'd rather sit at the table.' Ayla went into the cooking area and poured a little water into a small basin bowl, then rinsed her hands and using a small absorbent leather scrap wiped off her face. She was sure Marthona had cleaned her up a little, but she wanted to take a nice, refreshing swim with some soaproot. Maybe in the morning, she thought.

The stew was cold, but tasty. Ayla thought she'd be able to eat several bowls of it when she took the first few bites, but she filled up sooner than she thought. Marthona made them both some hot tea and joined Ayla at the table. Wolf slipped outside while the two women were up, but was back before very long.

'Did you say Zelandoni expected that I would do something?' Ayla asked.

'She didn't really expect it. She just thought it was possible.'

'What did she expect? I don't really understand what happened,' Ayla said.

'I think Zelandoni could tell you better. I wish she was here, but I think you are Zelandoni now. I think you were "called", as they say. Do you remember anything?' Marthona asked.

'I remember things, and then all of a sudden, I remember something else, but I can't seem to sort it out,' Ayla said, frowning.

'I wouldn't worry about it yet. Wait until you have a chance to talk to Zelandoni. I'm sure she'll be able to explain things and help you. Right now, you just need to get your strength back,' Marthona said.

'You're probably right,' Ayla said, relieved to have an excuse to put off dealing with the whole thing. She didn't even want to think about it, though she couldn't help remembering the baby she had lost. Why did the Mother want to take her baby?

Ayla did little except sleep for several days, then one day she woke up feeling starved, and couldn't seem to get enough to eat for the next couple of days. When she finally emerged from her dwelling and joined the small group, they all looked at her with new respect, even awe, and a touch of apprehension. They knew she had been through an ordeal, which they were convinced had changed her. And they all felt a certain pride because they were there when it happened, and by association, they felt that they were somehow a part of it.

'How are you feeling?' Jeviva asked.

'Much better,' Ayla said, 'but hungry!'

'Come and join us. There is plenty of food and it's still warm,' Jeviva said.

'I think I will.' She sat down beside Jeralda, while Jeviva prepared a dish for her. 'And how are you feeling?'

'Bored!' Jeralda said. 'I'm so tired of sitting and lying around. I wish it was time for this baby to come.'

'I think it is probably time for the baby to come. It wouldn't hurt if you took a walk now and then to encourage it. It's just a matter of waiting until the baby feels ready. I thought so the last time I examined you,' Ayla said, 'but I thought I'd wait before I said anything, and then I got distracted. I'm sorry.'

That evening Marthona mentioned, with some hesitation, 'I hope I didn't do anything wrong, Ayla.'

'I don't understand.'

'Zelandoni told me that if you did leave, not to try to stop you. When you didn't come back that morning, I was terribly worried, but Wolf was worse. You had told him to stay with me, but he was whining and wanting to go. Just the way he was looking at me, I could tell he wanted to go and look for you. I didn't want him to disturb anything, so I tied a rope around his neck, the way you would do sometimes when you wanted him to stay and not interrupt. But after a few days, he was so miserable, and I was so worried, I untied him. He raced out of here. Was I wrong to let him go?' the woman asked.

'No, I don't think so, Marthona,' Ayla said. 'I don't know if I was in a spirit world, but if I was and he found me there, I think I was already returning. Wolf helped me find my way out of the cave — at least he gave me the sense that I was going in the right direction. It was dark in there, but the passages are narrow, and I kept close to the wall. I think I might have been able to find my way out anyway, but it would have taken longer.'

'I'm not sure if I should have tied him up in the first place. I don't know if it was my place to make that decision — I know I'm getting old, Ayla, when I can't even make a decision anymore.' The former leader shook her head, looking disgusted with herself. 'Things of the spirit world were never my strength. You were so weak when you got here, maybe She thought you needed a helper. Perhaps the Mother wanted me to let that animal go so he could find you and help you.'

'I don't think anything you did was wrong. Things tend to happen the way She wants,' Ayla said. 'Right now, what I want is to go down to The River and take a long swim, and then a have a good washing. Do you know if Zelandoni left behind any of that Losadunai cleansing foam? The one I showed her how to make from fat and ashes? She likes to use it for purifying, especially to clean the hands of grave-diggers.'

'I don't know about Zelandoni, but I have some,' Marthona said. 'I like to use it on weavings, sometimes. I have even used it on some of my platters, the ones I use for meat and to collect clean fat. Can you use it for bathing, too?'

'The Losadunai did sometimes. It can be harsh and make your skin red. Usually I prefer to use soaproot, or some other plant, but right now, I just want to be clean,' Ayla said.

'If only there was a well of Doni's healing hot waters nearby,' Ayla said to herself as she headed toward The River with Wolf at her side, 'it would be perfect, but The River will do for now.' The wolf looked up at her at the sound of her voice. He had stayed close to her, not wanting to let her out of his sight since her return.

The hot sun felt good as she walked down the path toward the swimming place. She lathered all over, and washed her hair, then ducked under to rinse well and went for a long swim. She climbed up and rested on a flat rock to let the sun dry her while she combed her hair. The sun feels so good, she thought, spreading out her drying buckskin and lying on top of it. When was the first time I lay down on this rock? It was my first day here, when Jondalar and I went swimming.

She thought of Jondalar, in her mind's eye seeing him lying naked beside her. His yellow hair and darker beard … no, it's summer. He'd be clean shaven. His broad, high forehead beginning to show the lines caused by his habit of knotting it in concentration or concern. His vivid blue eyes looking at her with love and desire — Jonayla has his eyes. His straight fine nose and strong jaw with a full, sensuous mouth.

Her thoughts lingered on his mouth, almost feeling it. His broad shoulders, muscular arms, large, sensitive hands. Hands that could feel a piece of flint and know how it would fracture, or could caress her body with such perception that he would know how she would react. His long, strong legs, the scar on his groin from his encounter with her lion, Baby, and nearby, his manhood.

She was feeling her desire for him build just thinking about him. She wanted to see him, to be near him. She hadn't even told him she had been expecting a baby; now she didn't have a baby to tell him about anymore. She felt a wave of grief. I wanted the baby, but the Mother wanted it more, she thought, frowning. She knew I wanted another baby, but I don't think the Mother would have wanted a baby that I didn't want.

For the first time since her ordeal, she began to think about the Mother's Song, and with a chill of recognition, remembered the verse, the new verse, the one that brought the new Gift, the Gift of Knowledge, the knowledge that men were necessary for new life to start.

Her last Gift, the Knowledge that man has his part.His need must be spent before new life can start.It honours the Mother when the couple is paired,Because woman conceives when Pleasures are shared.Earth's Children were blessed. The Mother could rest.

I've known it for a long time. Now She has told me it is true. Why did She give me this Gift? So I could share it, so I could tell the others? That's why She wanted my baby! She told me first, told me Her last great Gift, but I had to be worthy. The cost was high, but maybe it had to be. Perhaps the Mother had to take something of great value so I would know that I had to appreciate the Gift. Gifts are not given without something of great value given back.

Have I been called? Am I Zelandoni now? Because I made the sacrifice of my baby, the Great Mother spoke to me, and gave me the rest of the Mother's Song, so I could share it, and bring this wonderful gift to Her Children. Now Jondalar will know for certain that Jonayla is his as much as she is mine. And we'll know how to start a new baby when we want one. Now all men will know that it is more than spirits — it is him, his essence; his children are a part of him.

But what if a woman doesn't want another child? Or shouldn't have another one because she's too weak, or exhausted from having too many? Then she will know how to stop it! Now a woman will know how not to have a child if she is not ready, or doesn't want one. She doesn't have to ask the Mother, she won't have to take any special medicine, she will just have to stop sharing Pleasures and she won't have any more children. For the first time, a woman can be in control of her own body, her own life. This is very powerful knowledge … but there is another side. What about the man?

What if he doesn't want to stop sharing Pleasures? Or what if he wants a child that he knows comes from him? Or what if he doesn't want a child?

I want another baby, and I know Jondalar would want another baby, too. He's so good with Jonayla, and he's so good with the youngsters who are learning to knap flint, his apprentices. I'm sorry I lost this baby. Tears came to her eyes as she thought about the baby she miscarried. But I can have another one. If only Jondalar were here, we could begin to start another one now, but he's at the Summer Meeting. I can't even tell him about losing the baby if I'm here and he's at the Summer Meeting. He would feel bad, I know he would. He would want to start another one.

Why don't I go? I don't have to watch the sky anymore. I don't have to stay up late; my training is over. I have been 'called'. I am Zelandoni! And I need to tell the rest of the zelandonia. The Mother not only called me, She gave me a great Gift. A Gift for everyone. I need to go so I can tell all the Zelandonii about the Mother's wonderful new Gift. And so I can tell Jondalar, and maybe start another baby.