The Land of Painted Caves

Chapter 36

'Mother! Mother! 'Thona is here! Grandam finally came!' Jonayla cried, running into their lodge to announce the news, and then running out again. Wolf followed her in and out again.

Ayla stopped to think about how many days it had been since she had asked to have someone go for Marthona. She touched a finger to her leg as she thought about each day, and could count only four. Marthona must have been eager to come, as Ayla knew she would be, if a way could be found to get her here. She stepped out of the lodge just as four young men of approximately the same height lowered the stretcher on which Marthona was sitting from their shoulders to the ground. Two of them were Jondalar's apprentices; the other two were friends who happened to be nearby when the request for litter bearers was made.

Ayla looked at the contrivance upon which Marthona had been carried to the Summer Meeting. It consisted of two poles from straight young older trees, placed parallel to each other with strong rope woven across them diagonally, creating a diamond pattern. Shorter shafts were woven through the ropes at intervals between the long poles to give some added stability. Ayla was sure that Marthona, who was an experienced weaver, had a hand in making it. The woman sat on a couple of cushions near the back and Ayla reached out a hand to help her stand up. Marthona thanked the young men as well as several others, who apparently had traded off the job of carrying the former leader.

They had spent the night before in the small valley of the Fifth Cave with the few people from that group who had stayed back from the meeting, along with one of their Zelandoni's Acolytes. They were all quite interested in Marthona's mode of transport. A couple of them wondered to themselves if they could find some young men who might be willing to carry them to a Summer Meeting. Most of them would have liked to attend; they all felt they were missing out when they had to stay back because they were not able to walk the distance on their own legs.

When Jondalar's apprentices brought the stretcher into the lodge, it occurred to Ayla that their services might still be needed. 'Hartalan, would you and Zachadal, and maybe some of the others be willing to carry Marthona around the camp, if she needs you? The walk from here to the zelandonia lodge and some of the other camps might be a little too far for her,' Ayla said.

'Just let us know when you need us,' Hartalan said. 'It might be best if you could tell us in advance, but there is likely to be at least one of us around most of the time. I'll talk to some of the others and see if we can work out a way to make sure someone is here who can go and get more to help.'

'That's very kind of you,' Marthona said. She had heard Ayla's request as she walked in the entrance, 'but I don't want to keep you from your own activities.'

'There isn't that much to do anymore,' Hartalan said. 'Some people are planning to go hunting, or visiting relatives, or back home soon. Most of the ceremonies and feasts are over, except for the Late Matrimonial and whatever big event the zelandonia are preparing now, and no one seems able to find Jondalar lately, but he always does more training in the winter anyway. It's fun to carry you around, Marthona,' Hartalan said, with a grin. 'You can't believe how much attention we got just walking into camp with you.'

'Well, it seems I've become a new amusement,' Marthona said, smiling back. 'As long as you really don't mind, I may call upon you for your help now and then. I'll tell you the truth, I can walk much better for short distances, but I can't go very far even with a walking stick, and I hate slowing everyone else down.'

Folara suddenly came bursting into the summer lodge. 'Mother! You're here! Someone just told me you had come to the Summer Meeting. I didn't even know you were coming.' They hugged in greeting, and touched cheeks.

'You can thank Ayla for that. When she heard that you might have found someone that you really care about, she suggested that someone go and get me. A young woman needs her mother if serious plans are being made,' Marthona said.

'She's right,' Folara said and her smile was radiant, which made Marthona know that the possibility was true. 'But how did you get here?'

'I think that was Ayla's idea, too. She told Dalanar and Joharran there was no reason that I couldn't be carried here on a stretcher by strong young men, so several of them came and got me. Ayla wanted me to come with her when she came, riding on Whinney's back, and I probably should have, but as much as I like the horses, the thought of riding one of them frightens me. I don't know how to control horses. Young men are easier. You just tell them what you want, and when you want to stop,' Marthona said.

Folara hugged her brother's mate. 'Thank you, Ayla. It takes another woman to understand. I did want my mother here, but I didn't know if she was well enough, and I knew she couldn't walk here.' She turned to her mother. 'How are you feeling?'

'Ayla took very good care of me when she was staying at the Ninth Cave, and I feel much better now than I did last spring,' the woman said. 'She really is a very good healer, and if you look closely, you will see that she is now a Zelandoni.'

Marthona had noticed the mark on the side of her forehead, Ayla realised. It was healing and there was no pain, although it itched sometimes, and she had almost forgotten about it, unless someone mentioned it or made a point of staring.

'I know she is, mother,' Folara said. 'Everyone knows, even if they haven't announced it, but like all the rest of the zelandonia lately, she's been so busy, I haven't seen much of her. They're planning some kind of ceremony, but I don't know if it will be before or after the Second Matrimonial.'

'Before,' Ayla said. 'You'll have time to talk to your mother and plan.'

'So you are serious about someone,' Marthona said. She paused and was quiet for a moment, thinking. Then she said. 'Well, where is this young man. I'd like to meet him.'

'He's waiting outside,' Folara said. 'I'll get him.'

'Why don't I go out and meet him,' Marthona said. It was dark in the summer lodge. There were no windows, only the entrance with its covering drape pulled back and tied, and the smoke hole in the middle of the roof, which was often left completely open during the day when the weather was nice. Her sight wasn't what it used to be and she wanted to get as good a look at this young man as she could.

When the three women went out of the entrance, Marthona saw three young men whom she didn't know, dressed in unfamiliar clothing, one of them a veritable giant with bright red hair. When Folara approached him first, Marthona took a deep breath. She had rather hoped he would not be the one her daughter had chosen. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with him. It was Marthona's aesthetic sense, which wasn't a deciding factor in any case, just that she always had hoped that the man Folara chose would fit well with her, that they would complement each other, and a man that big would make her tall and elegant daughter seem small. Folara began the introductions.

'Danug and Druwez of the Mamutoi are Ayla's kin. They came all this way to visit her. On their way they met another man and invited him to travel with them. Mother, please welcome Aldanor of the S'Armunai.'

Ayla watched as a young man with the dark good looks of the S'Armunai came forward. 'Aldanor, this is my mother, Marthona, former leader of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, Mated to Willamar, Trade Master …'

Marthona breathed a sigh of relief when Folara started to formally introduce her to Aldanor, not the young red-haired giant, and began to recite the strange names and ties of the young man to the older woman.

'In the name of the Great Earth Mother, you are welcome here, Aldanor of the S'Armunai,' Marthona said.

'In the name of Muna, Great Mother of the Earth, Her son Luma, bringer of warmth and light, and Her mate Bala, the watcher in the sky, I give you greetings,' Aldanor said to Marthona, putting his hands up with arms bent at the elbow and palms facing her; then he remembered, and quickly changed the position so that his arms were stretched out and his palms were facing up, the way the Zelandonii made a greeting.

Both Marthona and Ayla knew that he must have been practising the S'Armunai greeting so he could say it in Zelandonii, and they were both impressed. To Marthona, it spoke well of the handsome young man that he was willing to make the effort, and she had to admit he was a handsome young man. She could understand her daughter's attraction and, so far, was pleased with her choice.

Ayla had never heard the formal greeting of the S'Armunai; neither she nor Jondalar had ever been formally welcomed to a Camp of the S'Armunai. Jondalar had been taken prisoner by Attaroa's Wolf Women and kept in a confined fenced area along with their men and boys. Ayla and the horses with the help of Wolf followed his trail to the Camp.

After the formal greetings, Marthona and Aldanor began chatting, but Ayla recognised that while the former leader was being charming, she was also asking pointed questions to learn as much as she could about the stranger her daughter was planning to mate. Aldanor was explaining that he had met Danug and Druwez when they stopped to stay with his people for a while. He did not belong to Attaroa's Camp, but one farther north, for which he was grateful when it became known what had been going on there.

Ayla and Jondalar had become legendary figures to the S'Armunai. The tale was told of the beautiful S'Ayla, the Mother Incarnate, a living munai as fair as a summer day, and her mate, the tall, blond S'Elandon who had come to earth to save the men of that southern Camp. It was said that his eyes were the colour of water in a glacier, more blue than the sky, and with his light hair, he was as handsome as only the shining moon would be if he came to earth and took human form. After the Mother's fierce Wolf, an incarnation of the Wolf Star, killed the evil Attaroa, S'Ayla and S'Elandon rode back up to the sky on their magic horses.

Aldanor had loved the stories when he first heard them, especially the idea that the visitors from the sky could control horses and wolves. He thought the legend came from a travelling Storyteller, who must have had an inspiration of sheer genius to come up with such an innovative story. When the cousins claimed the two legendary figures were kin, and that they were on their way to visit them, he couldn't believe they were real. The young men got along well and when the two cousins extended the invitation, he decided to travel with them on their Journey to visit their Zelandonii kin, and see for himself. As the three young men travelled west, they heard more stories. The couple not only rode horses, but their wolf was so 'fierce', he allowed babies to crawl all over him.

When they arrived at the Zelandonii Summer Meeting and he heard the true story of Attaroa and the people of her Camp from Jondalar, Aldanor was amazed that the incidents in the legends were so accurate. He had planned to go back with Danug and Druwez just to tell everyone how true they were. A woman named Ayla did exist and was living with the Zelandonii, and her mate, Jondalar, was tall and blond with surprisingly blue eyes, and if a little older, still a most handsome man. Everyone said Ayla was beautiful, too.

But he decided not to go. No one would have believed him, any more than he had believed the stories that he heard were actually true. They were supernatural fables, which had a mystical kind of truth that helped to explain things that were unknown — myths. And besides, Jondalar's sister was a beauty in her own right, and she had captured his heart.

People had been gathering around as the stranger and Marthona talked, listening to the story Aldanor was telling.

'Why are the couple in the story called S'Ayla and S'Elandon, and not Ayla and Jondalar?' Folara asked.

'I think I can tell you that,' Ayla said. 'The S sound is an honorific; it is meant to express honour, show respect. The name S'Armunai means the "honoured people" or the "special people". When it is used in front of a person's name it means that person is held in great esteem.'

'Why aren't we called "special people"?' Jonayla asked.

'I think we are. I think their honorific is another way of saying "Children of the Mother", which is what we call ourselves,' Marthona said. 'Maybe we are related, or were long ago. It's interesting that they could take "Zelandonii" and so easily change it to mean one who is honoured, or the "special people".'

'When they were confined to the fenced-in area,' Ayla continued, 'Jondalar started showing the men and boys how to do things, like make tools. He was the one who found a way to break everyone free. On our travels, when we would meet people, he often referred to himself as "Jondalar of the Zelandonii". One boy in particular took the Zelandonii part of Jondalar's name and started saying it "S'Elandon", giving him the honorific, because he honoured and respected him so much. I think he believed that was what his name meant, "Jondalar the honoured one". In the legend, they apparently gave me the honour, too.'

Marthona was satisfied, for the present. She turned to Ayla. 'I am being ill mannered. I'm sorry. Please introduce me to your kin.'

'This is Danug of the Mamutoi, son of Nezzie, who is mated to Talut, the leader of the Lion Camp, and this is his cousin Druwez, son of Talut's sister Tulie, co-leader of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi,' Ayla began. 'Danug's mother, Nezzie, was the one who gave me my wedding outfit. You remember I told you she was going to adopt me, but then Mamut surprised everyone and adopted me instead.'

Ayla knew Marthona had been very impressed by her wedding outfit, and she also knew that as the mother of the young woman who would soon be mated, she would want to know the standing of the young men, since it was likely they would be part of the Matrimonial Ceremony.

'I know others have welcomed you here,' Marthona said, 'but I want to add my greetings to theirs. I can understand how your people might miss Ayla. She would be a very worthwhile addition to any community, but if it's any compensation, you can tell them that we truly appreciate her. She has been a very welcome member of our Cave. Though a part of her heart will always belong to the Mamutoi, she is a very cherished Zelandonii.'

'Thank you,' Danug said. As the son of the leader's mate, he understood that this was part of the exchange of information that conveyed status and recognition of rank. 'We have all missed her. My mother was very sorry when Ayla left, she was like a daughter to her, but she understood that her heart was with Jondalar. Nezzie will be very pleased to know that Ayla has found such a warm welcome among the Zelandonii, to know that her exceptional qualities are so well received.' Even though his Zelandonii was not perfect, the young man was obviously well spoken, and knew how to convey the position of his family among his people.

No one understood the value and importance of place and position better than Marthona. Ayla understood the concept of status. It had been important even to the Clan, and she was learning how the Zelandonii rated, ranked, and awarded significance to people, but she would never have the intuitive knowledge that someone like Marthona did, someone who was born into the highest position of her people.

In a society without currency, status was more than prestige, it was a form of wealth. People were eager to do favours for a person with standing because obligations always had to be repaid in kind. Debt was incurred when asking someone to make something, or to do something, or to go someplace, because of the implicit promise to return a favour of like value. No one really wanted to be in debt, but everyone was, and to have someone of high standing be in your debt gave you more status.

Many things had to be taken into account when appraising status, which was why people recited their 'names and ties'. Assigning value was one, as was effort. Even if the end product was not of the same quality, if the person gave it his best effort, the debt could be considered satisfied, though it didn't increase rank. Age was a factor; children up to a certain age did not accrue debts. In taking care of a child, even one's own, a debt to the community was paid, because children were the promise of continuity.

The reaching of a certain age, becoming an elder, also made a difference. Certain favours could be asked without accruing debt and without losing status, but as a person lost the ability to contribute, he didn't so much lose rank as shift position. An elder with knowledge and experience to offer could retain his status, but if he began to lose cognitive ability, he kept his position but only in name. He would still be respected for his past contributions, but his advice was no longer sought.

The system was complicated, but everyone learned its nuances the way they learned language, and by the time they reached the age of responsibility, most of them understood the fine distinctions. At any given time a person knew exactly what he owed and what was owed to him, the nature of the debts, and where he ranked within his own community.

Marthona also spoke with Druwez, whose position was equal to that of his cousin, since he was the son of Tulie, the sister of Talut and co-leader of the Lion Camp, but he tended to be more reticent. The sheer size of Danug made him more noticeable, and though shy in the beginning, he'd had to learn to be more forthcoming. A warm smile and willing conversation tended to alleviate any fears his size may have provoked.

Finally, Marthona turned to Ayla. 'Where is that son of mine, who is so honoured by Aldanor's people?'

Ayla turned aside. 'I don't know,' she said, trying to keep her sudden flush of emotion in check. Then she added, 'I've been busy with the zelandonia.'

Marthona knew immediately that something was very wrong. Ayla had been so excited about seeing Jondalar. Now she didn't even know where he was.

'I saw Jondy walking down by The River this morning,' Jonayla said, 'but I don't know where he's sleeping. I don't know why he won't sleep with us anymore. I like it better when he stays with us.'

Although her face flushed, Ayla didn't say anything, and Marthona was certain something was seriously wrong. She'd have to find out just what was going on.

'Folara, would you and Marthona watch Jonayla, or drop her off at Levela's if you are going to the main camp? And take Wolf with you? I need to talk to Danug and Druwez, and maybe take them to the zelandonia lodge,' Ayla said.

'Yes, of course,' Folara said.

Ayla gave her daughter a hug. 'I'll see you this evening,' she said, then went up to the two young men and started speaking to them in Mamutoi.

'I was thinking about the talking drums and mentioned them to the First. Can either or both of you make the drums talk?' Ayla said.

'Yes,' Danug said. 'We both can, but we didn't bring any with us. Drums are not a necessary part of travelling gear when you go on a Journey.'

'How long would it take to make a couple of them? I'm sure we can get people to help you if you need it. And would you be willing to play out a verse or two? As part of the ceremony we're planning?' Ayla said.

The two young men looked at each other, and shrugged. 'If we can find the materials, they wouldn't take long to make, maybe a day or so. It's just rawhide stretched across a round frame, but it has to be a tight stretch so that the drum really resonates at different pitches. The frame has to be strong or it will break as the rawhide shrinks, especially if we use heat to shrink it faster,' Druwez said. 'They are small drums, and you play them with your fingers, very fast.'

'I've seen some play them with a nicely balanced stick, but we learned to do it with the fingers,' Danug said.

'Would you be willing to do it for the ceremony?' Ayla asked.

'Of course,' they said in unison.

'Then come with me,' she said as she headed toward the main camp.

On the way to the large zelandonia lodge, Ayla noticed how many people actually stopped and stared at them. Though often enough she had been, this time she wasn't the one who was the object of the gawks. It was Danug. It was rude, but in a way she couldn't blame them, he was a striking figure of a man. On the whole, the men of the Zelandonii tended to be tall, well-built men — Jondalar himself was six feet, six inches — but Danug stood head and shoulders above everyone else, and he was well proportioned to his size. If seen alone from some distance, he would have seemed to be an ordinary muscular man; it was when he stood in the midst of others that his great size was so noticeable. It made her recall the first time she saw Talut, the man of his hearth, the only man she ever saw who was of comparable dimensions. She had probably stared then, even though except for Jondalar, Talut was one of the first people of her own kind she had seen since she was a small child. Maybe that was why she stared.

When she reached the great lodge in the centre of the camp, two young female acolytes approached them. 'I wanted to make sure we had all the ingredients for that special ceremonial drink you told us about,' one of them said. 'You said fermented birch sap, fruit juices scented with woodruff, and some herbs, right?'

'Yes, in particular, artemesia,' Ayla said. 'Sometimes called wormwood, or absinthe?'

'I don't think I'm familiar with that drink,' Druwez said.

'Did you stop and visit the Losadunai on your way here?' Ayla asked. 'In particular, did you share a Mother Festival with them?'

'We stopped, but we didn't stay long,' Druwez said, 'and unfortunately, they did not have a Festival while we were there.'

'Solandia, the mate of the Losaduna, told me how to make it. It tastes like a pleasant-tasting mild drink, but in fact, it is a potent mixture made especially to encourage the spontaneity and warm interaction that are wanted during a festival to honour the Mother,' Ayla said. Then to the Acolytes, she added, 'I'll taste it when you are done and let you know if anything is missing.'

As they turned to go, the two young women made some hand gestures to each other, and glanced back at Danug. Over the past few years, especially during Summer Meetings, Ayla had been teaching all the zelandonia some of the basic Clan signs. She thought it would help the Doniers to communicate, at least at a basic level, if they happened to meet some people of the Clan when they were travelling. Some picked it up better than others, but most of them seemed to enjoy having a silent secret method of talking that most people didn't understand. What the two young Acolytes didn't know was that Ayla had taught Danug and Druwez the Clan signs long before when she lived with the Mamutoi.

Suddenly Danug looked at one of the young women and smiled. 'Maybe you'd like to find out at the Mother Festival,' he said, then turned to Druwez and they laughed.

Both young women blushed; then the one who had first made the signs smiled at Danug with a suggestive look. 'Maybe I would,' she said. 'I didn't know you understood the gestural signs.'

'Can you imagine anyone living around Ayla for very long without learning them?' Danug said, 'Especially when my brother, the boy my mother adopted, was half Clan, and couldn't speak until Ayla came and taught us all to make the signs. I remember the first time Rydag made the sign for "mother" to her. She cried.'

People started milling around the ceremonial area early. The excitement in the air was tangible. The ceremony had been in stages of preparation for days and there was an incredible sense of expectation. This was going to be special, totally unique. Everyone knew it; they just didn't know how. The suspense mounted as the sun began to sink. Never had the Zelandonii at the Summer Meeting wanted the sun to set quite so much. They wished it down from the sky.

Finally, as the sun settled down below the horizon and it grew dark enough to need fire, people began to settle down, waiting for the ceremonial fires to be lit. There was a natural amphitheatre in the centre of this area that was sufficiently large to hold the entire camp of some two thousand people. Behind and toward the right of the Summer Meeting camp, the limestone hills formed the general shape of a large scooped-out shallow bowl curving around on the sides but open in front. The base of the curved slopes converged to a small, relatively level field, which had been evened out with stones and packed earth over the many years the location had been used for meetings.

In a wooded copse near the rugged crest of the hill, a spring rose that filled a small pool, then spilled down the slope of the bowl shape, through the middle of the area at the bottom, and eventually into the larger stream of the camp. The spring-fed creek was so small, especially late in summer, that people stepped over it easily, but the clear, cold pool at the top supplied convenient drinking water. The grass-covered hillside within the partial bowl depression rose up in a gradual, irregular slope. Over the years, people had dug a little here, filled in a little there, until the slope of the hill had many small flattened sections that provided comfortable places for family groups or even whole Caves to sit together with a good view of the open space below.

People sat on the grass or spread out woven mats, stuffed pads, cushions, or furs on the ground. Fires were lit, mostly torches stuck into the ground, but also some small firepits encircling the entire gathering around the stage-like area, and one larger bonfire near the front and centre of it; then several fires were lit throughout the area where people were sitting. Shortly afterwards, quietly, the distinctive sound of young voices singing could be heard in the background of the conversation. People started shushing each other to hear the singing better. Then a parade of most of the youngsters of the entire camp walked toward the central area singing a rhythmic song using the counting words. By the time they reached it, everyone else had stopped talking, although there were smiles and winks.

Beginning with the singing children had two purposes. The first was to let them show their elders what they were learning from the zelandonia. The second was a tacit understanding that a Mother Festival would take place along with the feasting and general revelry. When they were finished with their part, the children would be taken to one of the camps near the edge of the gathering where there would be games and their own feast separate from the adults, watched over by several Zelandonia and others, often older women and men, or new mothers who were not yet ready to participate, or women who had just begun their moontime, or those who just didn't feel like indulging in activities to honour the Mother at that time.

While most people looked forward to Mother Festivals, it was always voluntary, and it was easier for most people to participate if they knew they didn't have to worry about their children for an evening. The children were not prevented from going if they wanted to, and some of the older ones did, just to satisfy their curiosity, but watching adults talk, laugh, eat, drink, dance, and couple was not all that interesting if they weren't really ready for it and it wasn't forbidden. The close quarters in which they lived meant that children observed all adult activities all the time, from childbirth to death. No one made an issue of keeping them away; it was all a part of life.

When the children were done, most were led into the audience. Next, two men dressed as bison bulls with their heavy horned heads started at opposite sides and ran toward each other, slipping past but just barely missing each other, which captured people's attention. Then several people, including some children, dressed in the hides and horns of aurochs, started milling around like a herd. Some of the animal skins were hunting camouflages, some made just for this occasion. A lion came out, snarling and grunting, in a skin and tail, then attacked the cows with a roar so authentic, it made some people flinch.

'That was Ayla,' Folara whispered to Aldanor. 'No one can do a lion roar as well as she can.'

The herd scattered, jumping over things and almost running into people. The lion chased after them. Then five people came out dressed in deer hides and holding antlers on their heads, and portrayed them jumping into a river as though running away from something, and swimming across. Horses were next, one of them whinnying so realistically, it got an answering whinny from a distance.

'That was Ayla, too,' Folara informed the man beside her.

'She's very good,' he said.

'She says she learned to mimic animals before she learned to speak Zelandonii.'

There were other demonstrations portraying and depicting animals, all showing an event or story of some kind. The troupe of travelling Storytellers were also a part of the presentation, pressed into service as various animals, and their skills added a vivid realism. Finally the animals started coming together. When they were all gathered, a strange animal appeared. It walked on four legs and had hooved feet, but it was covered with a strange spotted hide that hung down the sides almost to the ground and partially covered its head, to which two straight sticks had been attached that were meant to represent some kind of horns or antlers.

'What is that?' Aldanor asked.

'It's a magical animal, of course,' Folara said. 'But it's really Ayla's Whinney, who is being a Zelandoni. The First says all of her horses and Wolf are Zelandonia. That's why they choose to stay with her.'

The strange Zelandoni animal led all the other animals away, then several of the zelandonia and Storytellers hurried back as themselves and began playing drums and flutes. Some began singing some of the older legends; then others narrated the histories and lore that the people knew and loved so well.

The zelandonia had prepared well. They used every trick they knew to capture and hold the attention of the large crowd. When Ayla, with her face painted in Zelandoni designs — all except for the area around her new tattoo, which was left bare to show the permanent mark of acceptance — stepped in front of the group, all two thousand people held their breaths, ready to hang on to her every word, her every motion.

Drums resounded, high-pitched flutes interwove with the slow, steady, inexorable bass, with some tones below the range of hearing, but felt deep in the bone, thrum, thrum, thrum. The cadence changed in rhythm, then matched the metre of a verse so familiar, the people joined in singing or saying the beginning of the Mother's Song.

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.

The First with her spectacular full, vibrant voice joined in. Drums and flutes played in between the singers and speakers as the Mother's Song continued. Near the middle, people began to take notice that the voice of the First was so markedly rich and rare, they stopped singing so they could listen. When she reached the last verse, she stopped and only the drums played by Ayla's visiting kin were left.

But the people almost thought they could hear the words. And then they were sure they could, but they were spoken with a strange, eerie vibrato. At first, the audience wasn't quite sure what they were hearing. The two young Mamutoi men stood in front of the crowd with their small drums and played the last verse of the Mother's Song in a strange staccato beat — drumbeats that sounded like words spoken in a throbbing voice as though someone were singing by rapidly varying the pressure of the breath, except it wasn't someone's breath, it was the drums! The drums were speaking words!Th-e-e-e Mu-u-u-the-er wa-a-a-az pule-e-e-z-z-zed wi-i-i-ith …

The silence of the listeners was perfect as everyone strained to hear the drums speak. Ayla, thinking about the way she had learned to throw her voice forward so that even those at the very back could hear her clearly, pitched her normally low voice slightly lower and spoke louder and more strongly into the dark stillness lit now by only one fire. The only sound the assembled crowd heard, seeming to come from the air around them on the beat of the drum, was Ayla speaking the last verse of the Mother's Song alone, repeating the words the drum had spoken.

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.

The drumbeats slowed imperceptibly. Everyone knew this was the end; there was only one line left, yet somehow they were held waiting, not knowing why. It made them nervous, drove up the tension. When the drums got to the end of the verse, they didn't stop; instead the drums continued with unfamiliar words.

H-e-e-er la-a-ast G-i-i-ift, th-e-e-e …

The people listened carefully, but still weren't sure what they had heard. Then Ayla stood alone, slowly repeating the verse, with emphasis.

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.

That didn't belong. That was new! They had never heard that part before. What did it mean? People felt uneasy. For as long as anyone knew or remembered, for long before anyone remembered, the Mother's Song had been the same, except for insignificant variations. Why was it different now? The meaning of the words hadn't yet penetrated. It was disquieting enough that new words were added, that the Mother's Song had changed.

Suddenly the last fire was put out. It was so black, no one dared move. 'What does it mean?' a voice called out. 'Yes, what does it mean?' came an echoing question.

But Jondalar was not asking. He knew. Then it's true, he thought. Everything Ayla has always said is true. Though he'd had time to think about it, even his mind struggled with the implications. Ayla had always told him Jonayla was his daughter, his true daughter, of his flesh not just his spirit. She had been conceived because of his actions. Not some amorphous spirit that he couldn't see, mixed up in some vague way by the Mother inside Ayla with her spirit. He did it. He and Ayla both. He had given Ayla his essence with his manhood, his organ, and that was combined with something inside Ayla to make life begin.

Not every time. He had put a lot of his essence inside her. Maybe it took a lot of essence. Ayla had always said she wasn't sure exactly how it worked, only that it was a man and woman together that made life start. The Mother had given Her children the Gift of Pleasures to make life begin. Shouldn't starting a new life be a Pleasure? Is that why the urge to spend his essence inside a woman was so strong? Because the Mother wanted Her children to make their own children?

He felt as though his body had a new sense to it, as though it had come alive in some way. Men were necessary. He was necessary! Without him there would have been no Jonayla. If it had been some other man, she would not be Jonayla. She was who she was because of both of them, Ayla and him. Without men, there could be no new life.

Around the periphery, torches were being lit. People started getting up, milling around. Food was being uncovered and set out in several different areas. Each Cave, or group of related Caves, had a feasting place so no one would have to wait too long to eat. Except for children, most people hadn't eaten much all day. Some were too busy, some wanted to save room for the feast, and while it wasn't required, it was considered more proper to eat sparingly before the main meal on feast days.

People were talking as they headed toward the food, asking each other questions, still feeling uneasy.

'Come on, Jondalar,' Joharran said. Jondalar didn't hear. He was so lost in his own thoughts; the crowd around him did not exist.

'Jondalar!' Joharran said again, and shook his shoulder.

'What?' Jondalar said.

'Come on, they are serving the food.'

'Oh,' the younger brother said, his mind still whirling as he stood up.

'What do you think it all means?' Joharran asked as they started walking.

'Did you see where Ayla went?' Jondalar said, still oblivious to everything except his own thoughts.

'I haven't seen her, but I imagine she'll join us before long. It was quite a ceremony. It took a lot of work and planning. Even the zelandonia need to relax and eat once in a while,' Joharran said. They walked a few steps. 'What do you think that meant, Jondalar? That last verse to the Mother's Song?'

Jondalar finally turned to look at his brother. 'It meant what it said, "man has his part." It's not just women who are blessed. No new life can begin without a man.'

Joharran frowned, showing the furrows on his brow that matched his brother's. 'Do you really think so?'

Jondalar smiled. 'I know so.'

As they approached the area where the Ninth Cave had gathered to feast, various strong drinks were being handed out. Someone put watertight woven cups in both Joharran's and Jondalar's hands. They took a taste, but it wasn't what either expected.

'What's this?' Joharran said. 'I thought it would be Laramar's brew. It's nice, but it's rather light.'

It was familiar to Jondalar, and he tasted again. Where had he tasted this before? 'Ah! The Losadunai!'

'What?' Joharran said.

'This is the drink the Losadunai serve at their Mother Festivals. It tastes light, but don't underestimate it,' Jondalar warned. 'This is potent. It sneaks up on you. Ayla must have made it. Did you see where she went after the ceremony?'

'I thought I saw her a while ago coming out of the ceremonial tent. She had her regular clothes on,' Joharran said.

'Did you see which direction she went?'

'There she is. Over there, where they are serving more of that new drink.'

Jondalar headed toward a sizable group of people milling around a large kerfed box, dipping out cups of liquid. When he saw Ayla, she happened to be standing next to Laramar. She handed him a cup she had dipped. He said something, and she laughed, then smiled at him.

Laramar looked surprised, then leered in response. Maybe she wasn't so bad after all, he thought. She had always been so standoffish before, hardly ever said a word to him. But she is Zelandoni now; they are supposed to honour the Mother at festivals. This may turn out to be an interesting festival. Suddenly Jondalar appeared. Laramar frowned with disappointment.

'Ayla,' Jondalar said. 'I need to talk to you. Let's get away from here.' He took her arm and tried to walk toward a less crowded place.

'Is there some reason you can't talk right here? I'm sure I'll be able to hear you. I haven't suddenly gone deaf,' Ayla said, pulling her arm away.

'But I need to talk to you alone.'

'You had plenty of opportunity to talk to me alone before, but you couldn't be bothered. Why is it suddenly so important now? This is the Mother Festival. I'm going to stay here and enjoy myself,' she said, turning to smile rather suggestively at Laramar.

He forgot. In his excitement about his new depth of understanding, Jondalar forgot. Suddenly it all came back to him. She had seen him with Marona! And it was true, he hadn't spoken to her since then. Now she didn't want to talk to him. Ayla saw his face turn white. He reeled, as if someone had hit him, and stumbled away. He looked so beaten and confused, she almost called him back, but bit her tongue to keep from speaking.

Jondalar walked around in a daze, lost in his own thoughts. Someone put a cup of something in his hand. He drank it without thinking. Someone else filled it again. She was right, he thought. He'd had plenty of time to talk to her, to try to explain things to her. Why hadn't he done it? She had come looking for him, and found him with Marona. Why hadn't he gone looking for her? Because he was ashamed and afraid he'd lost her. What was he thinking? He'd tried to keep Marona a secret from Ayla. He should have just told her. In fact he shouldn't have been with Marona at all. Why had she been so appealing? Why did he want her so much then? Just because she was available? She didn't even interest him now.

Ayla said she'd lost a baby. His baby! 'That baby was mine,' he said aloud. 'It was mine!' A few people passing by stared at him, staggering and talking to himself, and shook their heads.

That child she lost was his. She was called. He'd heard something about the terrible ordeal she went though. He'd wanted to go to her then, comfort her. Why hadn't he? Why had he tried so hard to stay away from her? Now she didn't want to talk to him. Could he blame her? He couldn't blame her if she never wanted to see him again.

What if she didn't? What if she really didn't ever want to see him again? What if she never wanted to share Pleasures with him again? Then the thought struck him. If she refused to share Pleasures with him, he'd never be able to start a baby with her. He would never have another child with Ayla.

Suddenly he didn't want to know that it was him. If it was a spirit that caused life to begin, it would just happen, no matter what anyone did. But if it was him, the essence of his manhood, and she didn't want him, there would be no more children for him. It didn't occur to him that he could have a child with another woman. It was Ayla he loved. She was his mate. It was her children he had promised to provide for. They would be the children of his hearth. He didn't want another woman.

As Jondalar stumbled around with a cup in his hand, he drew no more attention than any of the other celebrants who were staggering back and forth to the places where food and drink were supplied. Some laughing people bumped into him. They had just filled a waterbag with a potent drink of some kind.

'Uhhh, sorry. Lemme fill your cup. Can't have empty cups at a Mother Festival,' one of them said.

Never had there been such a festival. There was more food than anyone could eat, more brew and wine and other beverages than anyone could drink. There were even leaves to smoke, certain mushrooms and other special things to eat. Nothing was forbidden. A few people had been chosen by lot or had volunteered to refrain from festival activities to make sure the camp remained safe, to assist the few who inevitably got hurt, and to take care of those who got out of hand. And there were no young children around for the revellers to stumble over or worry about. They had all been gathered together to the camp at the edge of Summer Meeting Camp being looked after by Doniers and others.

Jondalar took a drink from his recently filled cup, unmindful that he was losing most of it as he walked around with the sloshing cupful. He hadn't eaten, and the liberally flowing beverages were having their effect. His head was swimming and his vision fuzzy, but his mind, still caught up in his private thoughts, was disassociated from everything. He heard dancing music and his feet took him toward the sound. Only vaguely did he see the dancers moving around in a circle in the flickering firelight.

Then a woman danced by and suddenly his vision cleared as he focused on her. It was Ayla. He watched her dance with several men. She laughed drunkenly. Staggering unsteadily, she broke away from the circle. Three men followed her, their hands all over her, tearing off her clothes. Unbalanced, she fell over in a heap with the three men. One of them climbed on top of her, roughly spread her legs apart, and jammed his engorged organ into her. Jondalar recognised him. It was Laramar!

Held by the sight, unable to move, Jondalar watched him moving up and down, in and out. Laramar! Filthy, drunken, lazy, shiftless Laramar! Ayla wouldn't even talk to him, but there she was with Laramar. She wouldn't let him love her, share Pleasures with her. She wouldn't let him start a baby with her.

What if Laramar is starting a baby with her!

Blood rushed to his head. All he could see in his red haze was Laramar, on top of Ayla, on top of his mate, bouncing up and down, up and down. Suddenly, in a blazing fury, Jondalar roared, 'HE'S MAKING MY BABY!'

The tall man covered the distance between them in three strides. He pulled Laramar off Ayla, spun him around, and smashed his fist into the stunned man's face. Laramar crumpled to the ground, nearly unconscious. He didn't know who hit him, or even what had happened.

Jondalar jumped on top of him. In a savage, ravaging frenzy of jealousy and outrage, he was hitting Laramar, punching him, hammering him, unable to stop. His voice so tight with frustration, its pitch rose to a squeal, as Jondalar screamed, 'He's making my baby! He's making my baby!' repeating it over and over again, 'He's making my baby!'

Some men tried to drag him away, but he shook them off. In his maddened fury, his strength was almost superhuman. Several more tried to pull him away, but he was wild; they couldn't contain him.

Then, as Jondalar pulled back to pound his fist once more into the bloody mass of raw meat unrecognisable as a face, a massive hand grabbed his wrist. Jondalar struggled as he felt himself being pulled away from the unconscious man who was sprawled out on the ground, close to death. He fought to free himself from the two enormous powerful arms that restrained him, but he couldn't break loose.

As Danug held him off, Zelandoni cried, 'Jondalar! Jondalar! Stop! You'll kill him!'

He vaguely recognised the familiar voice of the woman he once knew as Zolena, and recalled hitting a young man over her; then his mind went blank. While several of the zelandonia rushed in to attend to Laramar, the burly red-haired giant picked Jondalar up in his arms like a baby and carried him away.