Plains of Passage (109 page)

When the One Who Served the Mother saw the tall man’s frown, he realized that Jondalar was one of those who found it difficult to see the woman he chose choose someone else, even though it was only for ceremony. “You must encourage her, Jondalar. It honors the Mother and is most important if you are sincere in wanting Ayla to have a child born to your hearth. I have seen it work before. Many women become pregnant almost immediately. The Mother may be so pleased with you, She might even use your spirit, especially if you also honor Her well.”

Jondalar closed his eyes and nodded, but Losaduna saw his jaw clench and grind. It was not going to be easy for the man.

“She has never taken part in a Festival to Honor the Mother. What if she … doesn’t want anyone else?” Jondalar asked. “Should I refuse her?”

“You must encourage her to share with others, but the choice is, of course, hers. You must never refuse any woman, if you can help it, at Her Festival, but especially not the one you have chosen to be your mate. I wouldn’t worry about it, Jondalar. Most women get into the spirit of it and have no trouble enjoying the Mother Festival,” Losaduna said. “But it is strange that Ayla wasn’t raised to know the Mother. I didn’t know there were any people who don’t acknowledge Her.”

“The people who raised her were … unusual in many ways,” Jondalar said.

“I’m sure that’s true,” Losaduna said. “Now, let’s go ask the Mother.”

Ask the Mother. Ask the Mother. The phrase went through Jondalar’s thoughts as they walked toward the back of the ceremonial space. He suddenly remembered being told that he was favored by the Mother, so favored 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 wary of such favor; he might get what he asked for. At that moment, he fervently hoped it was true.

They stopped at the niche where the lamp still burned. “Pick the dunai up and hold her in your hands,” the One Who Served the Mother instructed.

Jondalar reached into the niche and gently picked up the Mother figure. It was one of the most beautifully made carvings he had ever seen. Her body was perfectly shaped. The figure in his hand looked as if the sculptor had carved it from a living model of a well-proportioned woman who was quite substantial in size. He had seen naked women often enough, in the normal course of living in close quarters, to know how one looked. The arms, resting on top of the ample breasts of the figure, were only suggested, but even so, fingers were defined, as well as the bracelets on her forearms. Her two legs came together into a kind of peg that went into the ground.

The head was most surprising. Most of the donii he had seen had hardly more than a knob for the head, sometimes with a face defined by the hairline but no features. This one had an elaborate hairstyle of rows of tight knobby curls that went all the way around the head and face. Except for the difference in shape, there was no difference between the back and the front of the head.

When he looked closely, he was surprised to see that it had been carved out of limestone. Ivory or bone or wood were much easier to work, and the figure was so perfectly detailed and beautifully made that it was hard to believe someone had made her out of stone. Many flint tools must have been dulled to make this, he thought.

The One Who Served the Mother had been chanting, Jondalar realized. He had been so involved in studying the donii that he hadn’t noticed it at first, but he had learned enough Losadunai that when he listened carefully, he understood some of the names of the Mother, and he knew that Losaduna had started the ritual. He waited, hoping his appreciation of the material aesthetic qualities of the carving would not distract from the greater spiritual essence of the ceremony. Although the donii was a symbol for the Mother and, it was thought, offered a resting place for one of Her many spirit forms, he knew the carved figure was not the Great Earth Mother.

“Now, think about it clearly, and in your own words, from your heart, ask the Mother for what you want,” Losaduna said. “Holding the dunai will help you to concentrate all your thoughts and feelings into your request. Don’t hesitate to say anything that comes to you. Remember, what you are asking for is pleasing to the Mother of All.”

Jondalar closed his eyes to think about it, to help himself concentrate. “O Doni, Great Earth Mother,” he began. “There have been times in my life when I thought … some things I did may have displeased You. I did not mean to displease You, but … things happened.
There was a time when I thought I would never find a woman I could really love, and I wondered if it was because You were angry about … those things.”

Something very bad must have happened in this man’s life. He is such a good man, and he seems so confident; it is hard to believe that he could suffer from so much shame and worry, Losaduna thought.

“Then, after traveling beyond the end of Your river, and losing … my brother, whom I loved more than anyone, You brought Ayla into my life, and finally I knew what it meant to fall in love. I am grateful for Ayla. If there was no one else in my life, no family, no friends, I would be content as long as Ayla was there. But, if it would please You, Great Mother, I would like … I would wish for … one thing more. I would ask for … a child. A child, born to Ayla, born to my hearth, and, if it is possible, born of my spirit, or born of my own essence as Ayla believes. If it is not possible, if my spirit is not … enough, then let Ayla have the baby she wants, and let it be born to my hearth, so it can be mine in my heart.”

Jondalar started to put the donii back, but he wasn’t quite through. He stopped and held the figure in both hands. “One more thing. If Ayla should ever become pregnant with a child of my spirit, I would like to know that it is the child of my spirit.”

Interesting request, Losaduna thought. Most men might like to know, but it doesn’t really matter that much. I wonder why it’s so important to him? And what did he mean by a child of his essence … as Ayla believes? I’d like to ask her, but this is a private ritual. I can’t tell her what he has said here. Maybe we can discuss it from a philosophical point of view sometime.

   Ayla watched the two men leave the Ceremonial Hearth. She felt sure they both had accomplished what they meant to do, but the shorter man had a questioning expression and an unsatisfied set to his shoulders, and the tall one had stiffened and looked rather unhappy, but determined. The strange undercurrent made her even more curious about what went on inside.

“I hope she will change her mind,” Losaduna was saying as they drew near. “I think the best way for her to overcome her terrible experience is to go ahead with her First Rites. We will have to be very careful who we choose for her, though. I wish you were staying, Jondalar. She seems to have developed an interest in you. I think it’s good to see her warming toward a man.”

“I would like to help, but we just can’t stay. We have to leave as soon as we can, tomorrow or the next day, if possible.”

“You’re right, of course. The season could turn any time. Be wary if you notice either one of you getting irritable,” Losaduna said.

“The Malaise,” Jondalar said.

“What is Malaise?” Ayla asked.

“It comes with the foehn, the snow-melter, the spring wind,” Losaduna said. “The wind comes out of the southwest, warm and dry, and hard enough to uproot trees. It melts snow so fast that high drifts can be gone in a day, and if it hits when you are on the glacier, you may not make it across. The ice could melt beneath your feet and drop you into a crevasse, or it could send a river across your path, or open a crack in front of you. It comes so fast that the evil spirits that like the cold can’t get out of its way. It cleans them out, sweeps them out of hidden places, pushes them on ahead. That’s why the evil spirits ride the headwinds of the snow-melter and usually arrive just before it. They bring the Malaise. If you know what to expect and can control them, they can be a warning, but they’re subtle, and it’s not easy to turn the evil spirits to your advantage.”

“How do you know when the evil spirits have come?” Ayla asked.

“As I mentioned, watch out if you start feeling irritable. They can make you sick, and if you are already sick, they can make it worse, but more often they just make you want to argue or fight. Some people go into a rage, but everyone knows that it’s caused by the Malaise, and people are not held to blame—unless they do serious damage or injury, and even then much is excused. Afterward, people are glad for the snow-melter because it brings new growth, new life, but no one looks forward to the Malaise.”

“Come and eat!” It was Solandia who spoke; they hadn’t seen her coming. “People are already going back for second portions. If you don’t hurry, there won’t be any left.”

They walked toward the central hearth where a large fire was burning, whipped up by drafts coming in the mouth of the cave. Though not fully dressed for the intense cold outside, most people wore warm clothes in the unscreened areas of the cave that were open to the cold and winds. The roast haunch of ibex was rare in the middle, though keeping it hot was cooking it a bit more; fresh meat was welcome. There was also a rich meaty soup, made with dried meat, mammoth fat, a few bits of dried roots, and mountain bilberries; nearly the last of their stored vegetables and fruits. Everyone could hardly wait for the fresh greens of spring.

But the hard cold winter was still upon them, and as much as he wished for spring, Jondalar wished even more for the winter to last a little longer, just until they got across the glacier that still lay beyond them.

A
fter the meal Losaduna announced that something was being offered at the Ceremonial Hearth. Ayla and Jondalar didn’t understand the word, but they soon learned it was a drink that was served warm. The taste was pleasant and vaguely familiar. Ayla thought it might be some kind of mildly fermented fruit juice flavored with herbs. She was surprised to learn from Solandia that birch sap was a primary ingredient, though fruit juice was only part of the recipe.

It turned out that the taste was deceiving. The drink was stronger than Ayla had thought, and when she asked, Solandia confided that the herbs contributed a large measure of its potency. Then Ayla realized that the vaguely familiar taste came from wormwood artemisia, a very powerful herb that could be dangerous if too much was taken, or if it was used too frequently. It had been difficult to detect because of the pleasant-tasting but highly perfumed woodruff and other aromatic flavors. It made her wonder what else was in it, which led her to taste and analyze the drink more seriously.

She asked Solandia about the powerful herb, mentioning its possible dangers. The woman explained that the plant, which she called absinthe, was seldom used except in that drink, reserved only for Mother Festivals. Because of its sacred nature, Solandia was usually reluctant to reveal the specific ingredients in the drink, but Ayla’s questions were so precise and knowledgeable that she couldn’t help but answer. Ayla discovered that the beverage was not at all what it seemed. What she had first thought to be a simple, pleasant-tasting, mild drink was in fact a potent, complex mixture made especially to encourage the relaxation, spontaneity, and warm interaction that were desirable during the Festival to Honor the Mother.

As the people of the Cave began coming into the Ceremonial Hearth, Ayla first noticed a heightened awareness as a result of all her tasting, but it soon gave way to a pleasant, languorous, warm feeling that made her forget about analyzing. She noticed Jondalar and several others talking to Madenia, and, abruptly leaving Solandia, she headed toward them. Every man there saw her coming and liked what he saw. She smiled as she approached the group, and Jondalar felt the powerful
love her smile always evoked. It was not going to be easy to follow Losaduna’s instructions and encourage her to experience the Mother Festival fully, even with the relaxing drink that the One Who Served the Mother had urged on him. He took a deep breath, then downed the balance of the liquid in his cup.

Filonia, and especially her mate, Daraldi, whom she had met earlier, were among those who greeted Ayla warmly.

“Your cup is empty,” he said, dipping out a ladleful from a wooden bowl and filling Ayla’s cup.

“You can pour a little more for me, too,” Jondalar said in an overly hearty voice. Losaduna noticed the man’s forced friendliness, but he didn’t think the others would pay much attention. There was one who did, however. Ayla glanced at him, saw his jaw working, and knew something was bothering him. She caught Losaduna’s quick observation, too. Something was going on between them, she realized, but the drink was having its effect on her, and she put it in the back of her mind to think about later. Suddenly drumbeats filled the enclosed space.

“The dancing is starting!” Filonia said. “Come on, Jondalar. Let me show you the steps.” She took his hand and led him toward the middle of the area.

“Madenia, you go along, too,” Losaduna urged.

“Yes,” Jondalar said. “You come too. Do you know the steps?” He smiled at her, and Ayla thought he seemed to relax.

Jondalar had been talking and paying attention to Madenia throughout the day, and though she had felt shy and tongue-tied, she had been acutely conscious of the tall man’s presence. Every time he looked at her with his compelling eyes, she had felt her heart race. When he took her hand to lead her to the dancing area, she felt a tingling of chills and heat at the same time, and she could not have resisted even if she had tried.

Filonia frowned for a moment, but then smiled at the girl. “We can both teach him the steps,” she said, leading them to the dancing area.

“May I show…” Daraldi started to say to Ayla, just as Laduni said, “I would be happy…” They smiled at each other, trying to give each other a chance to speak.

Ayla’s smile took them both in. “Perhaps both of you could show me the steps,” she said.

Daraldi bobbed his head in agreement, and Laduni gave her a happy grin as they each took one of her hands and led her toward the area where the dancers were gathering. While they were arranging themselves in a circle, the visitors were shown some basic steps; then they all joined hands as a flute sounded. Ayla was startled by the sound. She hadn’t heard a flute since Manen’s playing at the Summer Meeting of
the Mamutoi. Had it been less than a year since they left the Meeting? It seemed so long ago, and she would never see them again.