Jondalar closed his eyes, unable to watch the violent final moment of Ayla's life. His own life would have no meaning to him when she was gone… So why was he standing there afraid of threatening spears when he didn't care if he lived or died? His hands were tied, but his legs weren't. He could run over there and maybe knock Attaroa away.
He heard a commotion near the gate of the Holding at the instant he decided to ignore the sharp spears and try to help Ayla. The noise from the Holding distracted his guards as he unexpectedly lurched forward, pushed aside their spears, and ran toward the two women struggling on the ground.
Suddenly a dark blur dashed past the watching people, brushed against his leg, and leaped at Attaroa. The momentum of the attack knocked the headwoman backward as sharp fangs clamped around her throat, tearing through the skin. The headwoman found herself on her back on the ground, trying to fight off a fury of snarling teeth and fur. She managed to make a stab into the heavy, furry body before she dropped the dagger, but it only evoked a deadly snarl and a tighter grip of the viselike jaws pressing together in a stranglehold that cut off her air.
Attaroa tried to scream as she felt darkness overcoming her, but at that moment a sharp canine tooth severed an artery, and the sound that emerged was a horrible, suffocating gurgle. Then, the tall, handsome woman fell limp and fought no more. Still snarling, Wolf shook her, making sure there was no more resistance.
"Wolf!" Ayla cried, overcoming her shock and sitting up. "Oh, Wolf."
As the wolf let go, blood spurted from the severed artery and sprayed him. He crept toward Ayla with his tail tucked between his legs, whining apologetically, asking for her approval. The woman had told him to stay in hiding, and he knew he had acted against her wishes. When he saw the attack and understood that she was in danger, he had sprung to her defense, but now he wasn't sure how his misbehavior would be received. More than anything, he hated being scolded by this woman.
Ayla opened her arms and reached for him. Quick to realize that he had acted correctly and was forgiven for his transgression, he rushed to her with joy. She hugged him, burying her face in his fur, while tears of relief ran from her eyes.
"Wolf, you saved my life," she sobbed. He licked her, staining her face with Attaroa's warm, wet blood that was still on his muzzle.
The people of the Camp backed away from the scene, staring open-mouthed with incomprehension and wonder at the blond woman who was holding in her arms a large wolf that had just killed another woman in a furious assault. She had addressed the animal with the Mamutoi word for wolf, but it was similar to their own name for the meat-eating hunter, and they knew she was talking to him, just as though he could understand her, the same way she talked to the horses.
No wonder this stranger had shown no fear of Attaroa. Her magic was so powerful that she could not only make horses do her bidding, she could command wolves! The man had not shown concern either, they realized, when they saw him drop to his knees beside the woman and the wolf. He had even ignored the spears of the Wolf Women, who had also stepped back a few paces and stood gaping. Suddenly they saw a man behind Jondalar, and he had a knife! Where did the knife come from?
"Let me cut these cords for you, Jondalar," Ebulan said, slashing the bindings.
Jondalar glanced around as he felt his hands come free. Other men were mixed through the crowd, and more were coming from the direction of the Holding. "Who let you out?"
"You did," Ebulan said.
"What do you mean? I was tied up."
"But you gave us the knives… and the courage to try," Ebulan said. "Ardemun sneaked up behind the guard at the gate and hit her with his staff. Then we cut the cords that kept the gate closed up. Everyone was watching the fight, and then the wolf came…" His voice trailed off and he shook his head as he watched the woman and the wolf.
Jondalar didn't notice that the man was too overcome to continue. Something else was more important. "Are you all right, Ayla? Did she hurt you?" he said, taking both the woman and the wolf in his arms. The animal turned from licking Ayla to licking him.
"A little scratch on the neck. It's nothing," she said, clinging to the man and the excited wolf, "and I think Wolf was cut, but it doesn't seem to bother him."
"I would never have let you come back here if I'd thought she would try to kill you, Ayla, right here at the feast. But I should have known. I was stupid not to realize how dangerous she was," he said, holding her close.
"No, you're not stupid. It didn't even occur to me that she would try to attack me, and I didn't know how to defend myself. If it hadn't been for Wolf…" They both looked at the animal, full of gratitude.
"I have to admit, there have been times on this Journey when I wanted to leave Wolf behind, Ayla. I thought he was an extra burden, making our travels more difficult. When I found that you had gone to look for him after crossing the Sister, I was so angry. The thought that you had put yourself in jeopardy for this animal upset me."
Jondalar took the wolf's head in both his hands and looked him straight in the eyes. "Wolf, I promise, I will never leave you behind. I would risk my life to save yours, you glorious, furious beast," the man said, roughing his fur and rubbing behind his ears.
Wolf licked Jondalar's neck and face, and with his jaws, he grasped the exposed and trusting throat and jaw of the man, and held it gently, showing his affection. Wolf felt nearly as strongly about Jondalar as he did about Ayla, and he growled contentedly at the attention and approval he was getting from both of his humans.
But the people who were watching made sounds of wonder and awe to see the man expose his vulnerable throat to the animal. They had watched that same wolf grab the throat of Attaroa with those powerful jaws and kill her, and to them Jondalar's action bespoke magic, unimaginable control over the spirits of animals.
Ayla and Jondalar stood up with the wolf between them, while the people watched with some trepidation, not sure what to expect next. Several of them looked toward S'Armuna. She stepped toward the visitors, eying the wolf warily.
"We are finally free of her," she said.
Ayla smiled; she could see the woman's anxiety. "Wolf won't hurt you," she said. "He attacked only to protect me."
S'Armuna noticed that Ayla didn't translate the name of the animal into Zelandonii, and she sensed that the word was used as a personal name for the animal. "It is appropriate that her end should come from a wolf. I knew you were here for a reason. We are no longer clutched in her grip, held by her madness," the woman said. "But what do we do now?" The question was rhetorical, spoken more to herself than to any of the listeners.
Ayla looked down at the still body of the woman who had only moments before been so malevolently, but vibrantly alive, and it made her conscious of how fragile a thing life was. Except for Wolf, it could have been her lying dead on the ground. She shuddered at the thought. "I think someone should take this headwoman away and prepare her for burial." She spoke in Mamutoi so that more people would understand without the need for translation.
"Does she deserve burial? Why not throw her body to the carrion eaters?" It was a male voice that had spoken.
"Who speaks?" Ayla asked.
Jondalar knew the man who stepped forward, somewhat hesitantly. "I am called Olamun."
Ayla nodded in recognition. "You have a right to feel angry, Olamun, but Attaroa was driven to violence by the violence done to her. The evil in her spirit is eager to carry it on, to leave you with a legacy of her violence. Give it up. Don't let your rightful anger make you fall prey to the trap her restless spirit has set. It is time to break the pattern. Attaroa was human. Bury her with the dignity she was not able to find in life, and let her spirit rest."
Jondalar was surprised by her response. It was the kind of answer a Zelandoni might make, wise and restrained.
Olamun nodded with acquiescence. "But who will bury her? Who will prepare her? She has no kin," he said.
"That is the responsibility of the One Who Serves the Mother," S'Armuna said.
"Perhaps with the help of those who followed her in this life," Ayla suggested. The body was obviously too heavy for the older woman to handle alone.
Everyone turned to face Epadoa and the Wolf Women. They seemed to press together as though to draw strength from each other.
"And then follow her to the next world," another male voice said. There were shouts of agreement from the crowd, and a surge toward the women hunters. Epadoa stood her ground, brandishing her spear.
Suddenly one young Wolf Woman stepped away from the others. "I never asked to be a Wolf Woman. I just wanted to learn to hunt so I wouldn't have to be hungry."
Epadoa glared at her, but the young woman looked back defiantly.
"Let Epadoa find out what it's like to be hungry," the male voice said again. "Let her go without food until she reaches the next world. Then her spirit will be hungry, too."
The people surging toward the hunters, and toward Ayla, brought a warning snarl from Wolf. Jondalar quickly knelt to quiet him, but his reaction did have the effect of making the people back away. They looked at the woman and the animal with some trepidation.
Ayla didn't ask who had spoken that time. "Attaroa's spirit still walks among us," Ayla said, "encouraging violence and revenge."
"But Epadoa must pay for the evil she has done." Ayla saw the mother of Cavoa stepping forward. Her young, pregnant daughter stood just behind her, offering moral support.
Jondalar got up and stood beside Ayla. He could not help thinking that the woman had a right to retribution for the death of her son. He looked to S'Armuna. The One Who Served the Mother ought to be answering, he thought, but she, too, was waiting for Ayla to reply.
"The woman who killed your son has already gone to the next world," Ayla said. "Epadoa should pay for the evil she has done."
"She has more than that to pay for. What about the harm she did to these boys?" It was Ebulan who spoke. He stood back to let Ayla see two youngsters leaning on a cadaverous old man.
Ayla was startled when she saw the man; for an instant she thought she was looking at Creb! He was tall and thin, where the holy man of the Clan had been short and stocky, but his craggy face and dark eyes held the same kind of compassion and dignity, and he obviously commanded the same kind of esteem.
Ayla's first thought was to offer him the Clan gesture of respect by sitting at his feet and waiting for him to tap her shoulder, but she knew the action would be misunderstood. Instead, she decided to offer him the regard of formal courtesy. She turned to the tall man beside her.
"Jondalar, I cannot properly address this man without an introduction," she said.
He was quick to understand her sensitivity. He, too, had felt awed by the man. He stepped forward and led Ayla to him. "S'Amodun, most respected of the S'Armunai, may I introduce Ayla, of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi, Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth, Chosen by the spirit of the Cave Lion, and Protected by the Cave Bear."
Ayla was surprised that Jondalar had added the last part. No one had ever named the Cave Bear as her protector, but when she considered it, she thought it might be true, at least through Creb. The Cave Bear had chosen him – it was the totem of Mog-ur – and Creb had been in her dreams so much that she was sure he was guiding and protecting her, perhaps with the help of the Great Cave Bear of the Clan.
"S'Amodun of the S'Armunai welcomes the Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth," the old man said, holding out both of his hands. He was not alone in singling out the Mammoth Hearth as the most impressive of her relationships. Most of the people there understood the importance of the Mammoth Hearth to the Mamutoi; it named her the equivalent of S'Armuna, One Who Served the Mother.
The Mammoth Hearth, of course, thought S'Armuna. It cleared up many questions she'd had. But where was her tattoo? Weren't those accepted to the Mammoth Hearth marked with a tattoo?
"I am happy you welcome, Most Respected S'Amodun," Ayla said, speaking in S'Armunai.
The man smiled. "You have learned much of our language, but you just said something twice. My name is Amodun. S'Amodun means 'Most Respected, Amodun,' or 'Greatly Honored,' or whatever you think of to mean singled out for special notice," he said. "It is a title imposed by the will of the Camp. I am not sure why I have earned it."
She knew why. "I thank you, S'Amodun," Ayla said, looking down and nodding with gratitude. Up close, he reminded her even more of Creb, with his deep, dark, luminous eyes, prominent nose, heavy brows, and generally strong features. She had to consciously overcome her Clan training – women were not supposed to stare directly at men – to look up and talk to him. "I would ask you a question," she said, speaking in Mamutoi, in which she was more fluent.
"I will answer if I can," he replied.
She looked at the two boys who stood on either side of him. "The people of this Camp want Epadoa to pay for the evil she has done. These boys, in particular, have suffered great harm at her hands. Tomorrow I will see if I can do anything to help them, but what retribution should Epadoa pay for carrying out the wishes of her leader?"
Involuntarily most people glanced at the body of Attaroa, still sprawled where Wolf had left her; then their eyes were drawn to Epadoa. The woman stood straight and unflinching, ready to accept her punishment. In her heart, she had known that someday she would have to pay.
Jondalar looked at Ayla, a little awed. She had done exactly the right thing, he thought. No matter what she might have said, even with the fearful respect she had gained, the words of a stranger would never be accepted by these people as willingly as the words of S'Amodun.
"I think Epadoa should pay for her evil," the man said. Many people nodded with satisfaction, particularly Cavoa and her mother. "But in this world, not the next. You were right when you said it was time to break the pattern. There has been too much violence and evil in this Camp for too long. The men have suffered greatly in recent years, but they did harm to the women first. It is time to end it."
"Then what retribution will Epadoa pay?" the grieving mother asked. "What will be her punishment?"
"Not punishment, Esadoa. Restitution. She should give back as much as she has taken, and more. She can start with Doban. No matter what the Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth may be able to do for him, it is unlikely that Doban will ever recover fully. He will suffer ill effects for the rest of his life. Odevan will suffer, too, but he has a mother, and kin. Doban has no mother, no kin to care for him, no one to take responsibility for him, or see to it that he is trained in some craft or skill. I would make Epadoa responsible for him, as if she were his mother. She may never love him and he may hate her, but she should be held accountable."
There were nods of approval. Not everyone agreed, but someone had to take care of Doban. Although everyone had felt his pain, he had not been well liked when he lived with Attaroa, and no one wanted to take him in. Most people felt that if they objected to S'Amodun's idea, they might be asked to open their lodges to him.
Ayla smiled. She thought it was a perfect solution, and though there might be hatred and lack of trust in the beginning, warmth could grow into the relationship. She had known S'Amodun was wise. The idea of restitution seemed much more helpful than punishment, and it gave her an idea.
"I would offer another suggestion," she said. "This Camp is not well stocked for winter, and by spring everyone may suffer hunger. The men are weak, and they have not hunted for some years. Many may have lost their skills. Epadoa and the women she has trained are the best hunters of this Camp. I think it would be wise for them to continue to hunt, but they must share the meat with everyone."
People were nodding. The thought of facing hunger was not appealing.
"As soon as any of the men are able, and want to start hunting, it should be Epadoa's responsibility to help them, hunt with them. The only way to avoid facing hunger next spring is if the women and the men work together. Every Camp needs the contribution of both to thrive. The rest of the women, and the older or weaker men, should gather whatever foods they can find."
"It's winter! There is nothing to gather now," one of the young Wolf Women said.
"There is not much to be found in winter, that's true, and what there is will require work to harvest, but food can be found, and whatever there is will help," Ayla said.
"She's right," Jondalar said. "I have seen and eaten food that Ayla has found, even in winter. You even ate some of it tonight. She gathered the pine nuts from the stone pines near the river."
"Those lichens that reindeer like can be eaten," one of the older women said, "if you cook them right."
"And some of the wheats, and millets, and other grasses still bear seed heads," Esadoa said. "They can be collected."
"Yes, but be careful of ryegrass. It can foster a growth that is harmful, often fatal. If it looks and smells bad, it's probably full of ergot, and it should be avoided," Ayla advised. "But certain edible berries and fruits stay on the bush well into winter – I even found a tree with a few apples still clinging to it – and the inner bark of most trees can be eaten."
"We'd need knives to cut down to it," Esadoa said. "The ones we have aren't very good."
"I will make you some," Jondalar volunteered.
"Will you teach me to make knives, Zelandon?" Doban suddenly asked.
The question pleased him. "Yes, I will show you how to make knives, and other tools, too."
"I'd like to learn more about that, too," Ebulan said. "We will need weapons to hunt."
"I'll show anyone who wants to learn, or at least get you started. It takes many years to gain real skill. Perhaps next summer, if you go to a S'Armunai Meeting, you will find someone to continue your training," Jondalar said."
The youngster's smile turned to a frown; he knew the tall man would not be staying.
"But I'll help you all I can," Jondalar said. "We've had to make many hunting weapons on this Journey."
"What about that… stick that throws spears… like the one she used to free you?" It was Epadoa who had spoken, and everyone turned to stare. The head Wolf Woman had not spoken before, but her comments reminded them of the long and accurate cast Ayla had made to release Jondalar from the target post. It had seemed so miraculous that most people didn't consider that it was a skill that could be learned.
"The spear-thrower? Yes, I'll show anyone who is interested how to use it."
"Including the women?" Epadoa asked.
"Including the women," Jondalar said. "When you learn to use good hunting weapons, you won't have to go to the Great Mother River to chase horses off a cliff. You have one of the best hunting spots I've ever seen, right here down by the river."
"Yes, we do," Ebulan said. "I especially remember them hunting mammoths. When I was a boy, they used to post a lookout and light signal fires when anything was seen."
"I thought as much," Jondalar said.
Ayla was smiling. "I think the pattern is breaking. I don't hear Attaroa's spirit talking any more," she said, stroking Wolf's fur. Then she spoke to the head Wolf Woman. "Epadoa, I learned to hunt four-legged hunters when I first started, including wolves. Wolf hides can be warm and useful for hoods, and a wolf that seriously threatens ought to be killed, but you would learn more from watching living wolves than from trapping and eating them after they are dead."
All the Wolf Women looked at each other with guilty expressions. How had she known? Among the S'Armunai, wolf meat was prohibited, and it was considered particularly bad for women.
The chief hunter studied the blond woman, trying to see if there was more to her than there appeared. Now that Attaroa was dead, and she knew she would not be killed for her actions, Epadoa felt a release. She was glad it was over. The headwoman had been so compelling that the young hunter had become enamored and did many things to please her that she didn't like thinking about. Many of these things had bothered her even while she did them, though she had not admitted it, even to herself. When she saw the tall man, while they were hunting horses, she had hoped that if she brought him back for Attaroa to toy with, she might spare one of their own men from the Holding.
She hadn't wanted to hurt Doban, but she was afraid that if she didn't do as Attaroa commanded, the headwoman would kill him, as she had killed her own child. Why had this Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth selected S'Amodun rather than Esadoa to pronounce judgment on her? It was a choice that had spared her life. It wouldn't be easy living in this Camp any longer. Many people hated her, but she was grateful for the chance to redeem herself. She would take care of the boy, even if he hated her. She owed him that much.
But who was this Ayla? Had she come to break the grip of Attaroa on the Camp as everyone seemed to think? What about the man? What magic did he have that spears couldn't touch him? And how did the men in the Holding get knives? Had he been responsible for that? Did they ride horses because that was the animal the Wolf Women had hunted most, even though the rest of the S'Armunai were as much mammoth hunters as their kin, the Mamutoi? Was the wolf a spirit wolf, come to revenge his kind? One thing she knew. She would never hunt a wolf again, and she was going to stop calling herself a Wolf Woman.
Ayla walked back toward the dead leader and saw S'Armuna. The One Who Served the Mother had watched everything but said little, and Ayla remembered her anguish and remorse. She spoke to her in quiet, private tones.
"S'Armuna, even if the spirit of Attaroa is finally leaving this Camp, it won't be easy to change old ways. The men are out of the Holding – I'm glad they managed to free themselves, they will remember it with pride – but it will be a long time before they forget Attaroa and the years they were held in there. You are the one who can help, but it will be a heavy responsibility."
The woman nodded her head in acquiescence. She felt she had been given the chance to make right her abuse of the Mother's power; it was more than she had hoped for. The first thing to do was to bury Attaroa and put her behind them. She turned to the crowd.
"There is food left. Let us finish this feast together. It is time to tear down the fence that was raised between the men and women of this Camp. Time to share food together, and fire, and the warmth of community. Time for us to come back together as a whole people, with neither one more than the other. Everyone has skills and abilities, and with each person contributing and helping, this Camp will thrive."
The women and men nodded in agreement. Many had found the mates from whom they had long been separated; the others joined to share food and fire, and human company.
"Epadoa," S'Armuna called, as the people were getting their food. When the woman walked over to her, she said, "I think it is time to move Attaroa's body away and prepare her for burial."
"Shall we take her to her lodge?" the hunting woman said.
S'Armuna thought. "No," she said. "Take her to the Holding and put her in the lean-to. I think the men should have the warmth of Attaroa's earthlodge tonight. Many are weak and sick. We may need it for some time. Do you have another place to sleep?"
"Yes. When I could get away from Attaroa, I had a place with Unavoa in the lodge she shares."
"You might consider moving in with her for now, if that's agreeable to her, and you."
"I think we would both like that," Epadoa said.
"Later, we'll work something out with Doban."
"Yes," Epadoa said, "we will."
Jondalar watched Ayla as she walked with Epadoa and the hunters with the body of the headwoman, and he felt proud of her and a little surprised. Somehow Ayla had assumed the wisdom and the stature of Zelandoni herself. The only time he had seen Ayla assume control of a situation before was when someone was hurt, or sick, and in need of her special skills. Then, when he thought of it, he realized that these people were hurt and sick. Perhaps it wasn't so strange that Ayla would know what to do.
In the morning Jondalar took the horses and brought back the necessities they had taken when they left the Great Mother River and went to get Whinney. It seemed so long ago, and it made him realize that their Journey had been considerably delayed. They had been so far ahead of the distance he thought they would have to cover to reach the glacier that he had been sure they would make it in plenty of time. Now they were well into winter, and they were farther away.
This Camp did need help, and he knew Ayla would not leave until she had done everything she felt she could. He had promised to help, too, and he was excited about the prospect of teaching Doban and the others to work the flint, and the ones who wanted, to use the spear-thrower, but a small knot of worry had begun. They had to cross that glacier before the spring melt made it too treacherous, and he wanted to get under way again, soon.
S'Armuna and Ayla worked together to examine and treat the boys and men of the Camp. Their help was too late for one man. He died in Attaroa's lodge the first night out of the Holding, of gangrene so advanced that both legs were already dead. Most of the rest needed treatment for some injury or illness, and they were all underfed. They also smelled of the sickness of the Holding and were unbelievably filthy.
S'Armuna decided to delay firing of the kiln. She didn't have time, and the feeling was wrong for it, though she did think it could be a powerful healing ceremony at the right moment. They used the inner fire chamber to heat water for bathing and treating of wounds instead, but the treatment that was needed most was food and warmth. After the healers had administered whatever help they could, those who were not in serious difficulty and had mothers or mates, or other kin to live with, moved back in with them.
It was the youngsters, the ones who were nearing or barely into adolescence, that made Ayla particularly angry. Even S'Armuna was appalled. She had closed her eyes to the severity of their situation.
That evening, after another meal shared together, Ayla and S'Armuna described some of the problems they had found, explaining general needs and answering questions. But the day had been long, and Ayla finally said she had to rest. As she stood up to leave, someone asked a last question about one of the youngsters. When Ayla replied, another woman made a comment about the evil headwoman, laying all blame at Attaroa's feet, and self-righteously absolving herself of all responsibility. It raised Ayla's ire, and she made an announcement that came out of the deep anger that had been growing all day.
"Attaroa was a strong woman, with a strong will, but no matter how strong a person is, two people, or five people, or ten people are stronger. If all of you had been willing to resist her, she could have been stopped long before this. Therefore, you are all, as a Camp, women and men, partly responsible for the suffering of these children. And I will tell you now, any of those youngsters, or even any of the men, who suffer for a long time as a result of this… this abomination" – Ayla struggled to contain her fury – "must be cared for by this whole Camp. You are all responsible for them, for the rest of their lives. They have suffered, and in their suffering have become the chosen of Muna. Anyone who refuses to help them will answer to Her."
Ayla turned and left, and Jondalar followed, but her words carried more weight than she could know. Most people already felt that she was not an ordinary woman, and many were saying that she was an incarnation of the Great Mother Herself; a living munai in human form, who had come to take Attaroa and set the men free. What else could explain horses that came at her whistle? Or a wolf, huge even for his own large northern breed, following her wherever she went and sitting quietly at her command? Wasn't it the Great Earth Mother Who had given birth to the spirit forms of all the animals?
According to the rumors, the Mother had created both women and men for a reason, and She had given them the Gift of Pleasures to honor Her. The spirits of both men and women were necessary to make new life, and Muna had come to make it clear that anyone trying to create Her children some other way was an abomination to Her. Hadn't She brought the Zelandonii to show them how She felt? A man who was the embodiment of Her lover and mate? Taller and more handsome than most men, and light and fair like the moon. Jondalar was noticing a difference in the way the Camp was acting toward him, which made him uneasy. He didn't much like it.
There had been so much to do the first day, even with both healers and help from most of the Camp, that Ayla put off the special treatment she wanted to try on the boys with the dislocations. S'Armuna had even delayed the burial of Attaroa. The following morning a site was selected and the grave was dug. A simple ceremony conducted by the One Who Served finally returned the headwoman to the bosom of the Great Mother Earth.
A few even felt some grief. Epadoa had not expected to feel anything, and yet she did. Because of the way most of the Camp felt, she couldn't express it, but Ayla could see from her body language, her postures and expressions, that she was struggling with it. Doban also exhibited strange behavior, and she guessed he was trying to deal with his own mixed emotions. For most of his young life, Attaroa had been the only mother he knew. He had felt betrayed when she turned on him, but her love had always been erratic, and he couldn't entirely let go of his feelings for her.
Grief needed to be released. Ayla knew that from her own losses. She had planned to try to treat the boy right after the burial, but she wondered if she should wait longer. This might not be the right day for it, but maybe having something else to concentrate on would be better for both of them. She approached Epadoa on the way back to the Camp.
"I'm going to try to reset Doban's dislocated leg, and I'm going to need help. Will you assist me?"
"Won't it be painful for him?" Epadoa said. She recalled only too well his screams of pain, and she was beginning to feel protective of him. He was, if not her son, at least her charge, and she took it seriously. Her life, she was sure, depended on it.
"I will put him to sleep. He won't feel it, though he will have some pain when he wakes up, and he will have to be moved very carefully for some time," Ayla explained. "He won't be able to walk."
"I will carry him," Epadoa said.
When they got back to the big lodge, Ayla explained to the boy that she wanted to try to straighten his leg. He pulled away from her, looking very nervous, and when he saw Epadoa coming into the lodge, his eyes filled with fear.
"No! She's going to hurt me!" Doban screamed at the sight of the Wolf Woman. If he could have run away, he would have.
Epadoa stood straight and stiff beside the bed platform he was sitting on. "I will not hurt you. I promise you, I will never hurt you again," she said. "And I will never let anyone else hurt you, not even this woman."
He glanced up at her, apprehensive, but wanting to believe her. Desperately wanting to believe her.
"S'Armuna, please make sure he understands what I am going to say," Ayla said. Then she stooped down until she could look into his frightened eyes.
"Doban, I'm going to give you something to drink. It won't taste very good, but I want you to drink it all anyway. After a while, you will begin to feel very sleepy. When you feel like it, you can lie down right here. While you are asleep, I'm going to try to make your leg a little better, put it back the way it was. You won't feel it because you will be sleeping. When you wake up, you will feel some pain, but it may feel better in a way, too. If it hurts too much, tell me, or S'Armuna, or Epadoa – someone will be here with you all the time – and she will give you something to drink that will make the pain go away a little. Do you understand?"
"Can Zelandon come here to see me?"
"Yes, I will get him now, if you want."
"And S'Amodun?"
"Yes, both of them, if you want."
Doban looked up at Epadoa. "And you won't let her hurt me?"
"I promise. I won't let her hurt you. I won't let anyone hurt you."
He looked at S'Armuna, then back at Ayla. "Give me the drink," he said.
The process was not unlike the resetting of Roshario's broken arm. The drink both relaxed his muscles and put him to sleep. It took sheer physical strength to pull the leg straight, but when it slipped back into place, it was obvious to everyone. There had been some breakage, Ayla realized, and it would never be entirely right, but his body looked almost normal again.
Epadoa moved back into the large earthlodge, since most of the men and boys had moved in with their kin, and she stayed near Doban almost constantly. Ayla noticed the tentative beginnings of trust developing between them. She was sure that was exactly what S'Amodun had envisioned.
They went through a similar procedure with Odevan, but Ayla feared his healing process would be more difficult and that his leg would have a tendency to pop out and become dislocated more easily in the future.
S'Armuna was impressed and a little in awe of Ayla, privately wondering if the rumors about her might not have some truth in them. She seemed like an ordinary woman, talked and slept and shared Pleasures with the tall, fair man, like any other woman, but her knowledge of the plant life that grew in the earth, and their medical properties in particular, was phenomenal. Everyone talked about it; S'Armuna gained prestige by association. And though the older woman learned not to fear the wolf, it was almost impossible to see him around Ayla and not believe that she controlled his spirit. When he wasn't following her, his eyes were. It was the same with the man, although he wasn't as obvious about it.
The older woman didn't notice the horses as much because they were left to graze most of the time – Ayla said she was glad to give them the rest – but S'Armuna did see the two people ride them. The man rode the brown stallion easily enough, but seeing the young woman on the back of the mare made one think they were of the same flesh.
But though she wondered, the One Who Served the Mother was skeptical. She had been trained by the zelandonia, and she knew that such ideas were often encouraged. She had learned, and often employed, ways to misdirect people, to lead them into believing what she, and they, wanted to believe. She didn't think of it as trickery – no one was more convinced of the rightness of her calling – but she used the means at her disposal to smooth the way and persuade others to follow. People could often be helped by such means, especially some of those whose problems and illnesses had no discernible cause, except, perhaps, curses by powerful evil people.
Though she herself was not willing to accept all the rumors, S'Armuna did not discourage them. The people of the Camp wanted to believe that anything Ayla and Jondalar said was a pronouncement from the Mother, and she used their belief to set in place some necessary changes. When Ayla talked about the Mamutoi Council of Sisters and Council of Brothers, for example, S'Armuna organized the Camp to set up similar Councils. When Jondalar mentioned finding someone from another Camp to continue the training in flint-toolmaking that he had begun, she instigated plans to send a delegation to several other S'Armunai Camps to renew ties with kin and reestablish friendships.
On a night that fell so cold and clear the stars blazed from the heavens, a group of people were clustered outside the entrance of the former headwoman's large earthlodge, which was becoming a center for community activities after it had served as a place for healing and recovery. They were talking about the mysterious twinkling lights in the sky, and S'Armuna was answering questions and offering interpretations. She had to spend so much time in the place – healing with medicines and ceremonies, and gathering with people to make plans and discuss problems – that she had begun to move some of her things in, and she often left Ayla and Jondalar alone in her small lodge. The arrangement was starting to resemble other Camps and Caves that Ayla and Jondalar knew, with the lodging of the One Who Served the Mother acting as a focus and gathering place for the people.
After the two visitors left the stargazers, with Wolf at their heels, someone asked S'Armuna about the wolf that followed Ayla everywhere. The One Who Served the Mother pointed to one of the bright lights in the sky. "That is the Wolf Star," was all she said.
The days passed quickly. As the men and boys began to recover and no longer needed her as a medicine woman, Ayla went out with those who were collecting the sparse winter foods. Jondalar got caught up in teaching his craft and showing how to make spear-throwers and hunt with them. The Camp began to accumulate more supplies of a variety of foods that were easy to preserve and store in the freezing weather, particularly meat. At first there had been some difficulties in getting accustomed to the new arrangements, with the men moving into lodges that the women considered theirs, but they were working it out.
S'Armuna felt that the timing was right to fire the figures in the kiln, and she had talked about establishing a new Firing Ceremony with her two visitors. They were at the kiln lodge, gathering some of the fuel she had collected over the summer and fall to burn for her firing, for medical purposes, and for everyday uses. She explained that they would have to gather more fuel and it would be a lot of work.
"Can you make some tree-cutting tools, Jondalar?" she asked.
"I'll be glad to make some axes, and mauls and wedges, whatever you want, but green trees don't burn well," he said.
"I will be burning mammoth bone, too, but we have to get the fire good and hot first, and it has to burn for a long time. It takes a great deal of fuel for a Firing Ceremony."
As they came out of the small lodge, Ayla looked across the settlement at the Holding. Although people had been using bits and pieces of it, they hadn't torn it down. She had mentioned at one time that the poles could be used for a hunting surround, a corral into which animals could be chased. The people of the Camp tended to avoid using the wood after that, and now that they had all become accustomed to it, they almost didn't see it.
Suddenly Ayla said, "You don't need to cut down trees. Jondalar can make wood-cutting tools to cut up the wood of the Holding."
They all saw the fence in a new way, but S'Armuna saw even more. She began to see the outlines of her new ceremony. "That's perfect!" she said. "The destruction of that place to create a new and healing ceremony! Everyone can take part, and everyone will be glad to see it go. It will mark the new beginning for us, and you'll be here, too."
"I'm not sure about that," Jondalar said. "How long will it take?"
"It's not something that can be hurried. It's too important."
"That's what I thought. We have to be leaving soon," he said.
"But it will soon be the coldest part of winter," S'Armuna objected.
"And not long after that, the spring melt. You've crossed that glacier, S'Armuna. You know it can only be crossed in winter. And I promised some Losadunai that I would visit their Cave on the way back and spend a little time with them. Though we couldn't stay long, it would be a good place to stop and prepare for the crossing."
S'Armuna nodded. "Then I will use the Firing Ceremony to ease your leaving as well. There are many of us who had hoped you would stay, and all will feel your absence."
"I had hoped to see a firing," Ayla said, "and Cavoa's baby, but Jondalar is right. It's time for us to leave."
Jondalar decided to make the tools for S'Armuna immediately. He had located a supply of good flint nearby, and, with a couple of others, he went to get some that could be made into axes and wood-cutting implements. Ayla went into the small lodge to gather together their belongings and see what else they might need. She had spread everything out when she heard a noise at the entrance. She looked up to see Cavoa.
"Am I bothering you, Ayla?" she asked.
"No, come in."
The young, very pregnant woman entered and eased herself down on the edge of a sleeping platform, across from Ayla. "S'Armuna told me you are leaving."
"Yes, in a day or so."
"I thought you were going to stay for the firing."
"I wanted to, but Jondalar is anxious to go. He says we must cross a glacier before spring."
"I made something that I was going to give you after the firing," Cavoa said, taking a small leather package out of her shirt. "I'd still like to give it to you, but if it gets wet, it won't last." She handed the package to Ayla.
Inside the package was a small head of a lioness powerfully modeled out of clay. "Cavoa! This is beautiful. More than beautiful. It is the essence of a cave lioness. I didn't know you were so skilled."
The young woman smiled. "You like it?"
"I knew a man, a Mamutoi man, who was a carver of ivory, a very fine artist. He showed me how to see things that are carved and painted, and I know he would love this," Ayla said.
"I have carved figures out of wood, ivory, antler. I've been doing it as long as I can remember. That's why S'Armuna asked me to train with her. She has been so wonderful to me. She tried to help us… She was good to Omel, too. She let Omel keep the secret and never made demands, the way some would have. Many people were so curious." Cavoa looked down and seemed to be struggling to hold back tears.
"I think you miss your friends," Ayla said gently. "It must have been difficult for Omel to keep a secret like that."
"Omel had to keep that secret."
"Because of Brugar? S'Armuna said she thought he might have threatened great harm."
"No, not because of Brugar, or Attaroa. I didn't like Brugar, and I remember how he blamed her for Omel, even though I was little, but I think he feared Omel more than Omel feared him, and Attaroa knew why."
Ayla sensed what was bothering Cavoa. "And you knew, too, didn't you?"
The young woman frowned. "Yes," she whispered; then she looked into Ayla's eyes. "I was hoping you would be here when the time comes. I want everything to be right with my baby, not like…"
It wasn't necessary to say more, or to explain in detail. Cavoa feared that her baby might be born with some abnormality, and naming an evil only gave it power.
"Well, I'm not leaving yet, and who knows? It appears to me that you could have that baby any time," Ayla said. "Perhaps we will still be here."
"I hope so. You have done so much for us. I only wish you had come before Omel and the others…"
Ayla saw tears glittering in her eyes. "You miss your friends, I know, but soon you will have a brand-new baby all your own. I think that may help. Have you thought about a name?"
"I didn't for a long time. I knew there wouldn't be much point in thinking about a boy's name, and I didn't know if I'd be allowed to name a girl. Now, if it's a boy, I don't know whether to name it after my brother, or… another man I knew. But if it's a girl, I want to name it for S'Armuna. She helped me to see… him…" A sob of anguish interrupted her words.
Ayla took the young woman in her arms. Grief needed to be expressed. It was good for her to get it out. This Camp was still full of grief that had to come out. Ayla hoped the ceremony that S'Armuna planned would help. When her tears finally abated, Cavoa pulled back and wiped her eyes with the side of her hand. Ayla looked around for something to give her to dry her tears, and she opened up a package she had carried with her for years to let the young woman use the soft leather wrapping. But when Cavoa saw what was inside, her eyes opened wide in disbelief. It was a munai, a small figure of a woman carved out of ivory, but this munai had a face, and the face was Ayla's!
She averted her eyes, as though she had seen something she shouldn't have, dried her eyes, and quickly left. Ayla frowned as she wrapped the carving Jondalar had made of her back in the soft leather. She knew it had frightened Cavoa.
She tried to put it out of her mind as she packed their few things. She picked up the pouch that held their firestones, and she emptied it to see how many of the grayish yellow metallic pieces of iron pyrite they had left. She wanted to give one to S'Armuna, but she didn't know how plentiful they would be near Jondalar's home, and she wanted to have some for gifts to his kin. She decided to part with one, but only one, and she selected a good-size nodule, then put the rest away.
When Ayla went out, she noticed Cavoa leaving the large earthlodge as she entered. She smiled at the young woman, who smiled nervously back, and when she went in, she thought S'Armuna looked at her strangely. Jondalar's carving had created some worry, it seemed. Ayla waited until another person had left the lodge, and S'Armuna was alone.
"I have something I want to give you before I leave. I discovered this when I was living alone in my valley," she said, opening her palm to show her the stone. "I thought you might be able to make use of it for your Fire Ceremony."
S'Armuna looked at it, then looked up at Ayla questioningly.
"I know it doesn't look like it, but there is fire inside this stone. Let me show you."
Ayla went to the fireplace, got out the tinder they used, and arranged small shavings of wood loosely around dried cattail fluff. She placed sticks of kindling nearby, then bent down low and struck the iron pyrite with flint. A large hot spark was drawn off and fell on the tinder, and when she blew on it, a small flame miraculously appeared. She added kindling to keep it going, and when she looked up she saw the stunned woman gaping at her incredulously.
"Cavoa told me she saw a munai with your face, and now you make fire appear. Are you… who they say you are?"
Ayla smiled. "Jondalar made that carving, because he loved me. He said he wanted to capture my spirit, and then he gave it to me. It's not a donii, or a munai. It's just a token of his feeling, and I will be happy to show you how to make fire appear. It's not me, it's something in the firestone."
"Should I be here?" The voice came from the entrance, and both women turned to look at Cavoa. "I forgot my mitts and came back for them."
S'Armuna and Ayla looked at each other. "I don't see why not," Ayla said.
"Cavoa is my acolyte," S'Armuna remarked.
"Then I'll show both of you how the firestone works," Ayla said.
When she had gone through the process again and let them both try it, they were feeling more relaxed, though they were no less amazed at the properties of the strange stone. Cavoa even felt brave enough to ask Ayla about the munai.
"That figure I saw…"
"Jondalar made it for me, not long after we met. It was meant to show his feeling for me," Ayla explained.
"You mean, if I wanted to show a person how important I think that person is, I could make a carving of that person's face?" Cavoa said.
"I don't see why not," Ayla said. "When you make a munai, you know why you are making it. You have a special feeling inside you about it, don't you?"
"Yes, and certain rituals go along with it," the young woman said.
"I think it's the feeling you put into it that makes the difference."
"So I could carve someone's face, if the feeling I put into it was good."
"I don't think there would be anything wrong with that at all. You are a very fine artist, Cavoa."
"But, perhaps, it would be best," S'Armuna cautioned, "if you did not make the whole figure. If you just made the head, there would be no confusion."
Cavoa nodded in agreement; then both of them looked at Ayla, as though waiting for her approval. In the recesses of their private thoughts, both women still wondered who this visitor really was.
Ayla and Jondalar woke the next morning with every intention of leaving, but outside the lodge a dry snow was blowing so fiercely that it was hard even to see across the settlement.
"I don't think we'll be leaving today, not with a blizzard in the making," Jondalar said, though he hated the thought of the delay. "I hope it blows over soon."
Ayla went to the field and whistled for the horses, to make sure they were all right. She was relieved to see them appear out of the haze of wind-driven snow, and she led them to an area nearer the Camp that was protected from the wind. As she walked back, her mind was on their return trip to the Great Mother River, since she was the one who knew the way. She didn't hear her name whispered at first.
"Ayla!" The whisper was louder. She looked around and saw Cavoa on the far side of the small lodge, staying out of view and beckoning to her.
"What is it, Cavoa?"
"I want to show you something, to see how you like it," the young woman said. When Ayla got close, Cavoa took off her mitt. In her hand was a small roundish object, the color of mammoth ivory. She placed it carefully in Ayla's palm. "I just finished it," she said.
Ayla held it up and smiled with a look of wonder. "Cavoa! I knew you were good. I didn't know you were this good," she said, carefully examining the small carving of S'Armuna.
It was just the head of the woman, no hint of a body, not even a neck, but there was no doubt who the carving was meant to depict. The hair was pulled up into a bun near the top of the head, and the narrow face was slightly skewed, with one side somewhat smaller than the other, yet the beauty and the dignity of the woman were evident. It seemed to emanate from within the small work of art.
"Do you think it's all right? Do you think she'll like it?" Cavoa said. "I wanted to make something special for her."
"I would like it," Ayla said, "and I think it expresses your feeling for her very well. You have a rare and wonderful Gift, Cavoa, but you must be sure to use it well. There could be great power in it. S'Armuna was wise to choose you as her acolyte."
By evening, a howling blizzard was raging, making it dangerous to move more than a few feet beyond the entrance of a lodge. S'Armuna was reaching for a bunch of dried greenery hanging from the rack near the entryway, planning to add it to a new batch of herbs she was mixing together for a potent drink she was preparing for the Fire Ceremony. The fire in the fireplace was burning low, and Ayla and Jondalar had just gone to bed. The woman planned to retire as soon as she finished.
Suddenly a blast of cold air and a flurry of snow accompanied the opening of the heavy drape stretched across the entrance to the anteroom. Esadoa pushed through the second drape in evident distress.
"S'Armuna! Hurry! It's Cavoa! Her time has come."
Ayla was out of bed pulling on clothes before the woman could reply.
"She picked a good night for it," S'Armuna said, maintaining calm, in part to soothe the agitated expectant grandmother. "It will be all right, Esadoa. She won't have the baby before we reach your lodge."
"She's not in my lodge. She insisted on going out in this storm to the big lodge. I don't know why, but she wants to have the baby there. And she wants Ayla to come, too. She says it's the only way to be sure the baby will be all right."
S'Armuna frowned with concern. "No one is there tonight, and it wasn't wise for her to go out in this weather."
"I know, but I couldn't stop her," Esadoa said, starting back out.
"Wait a moment," S'Armuna said. "We might as well all go together. You can get lost going from one lodge to the next in a storm like this."
"Wolf won't let us get lost," Ayla said, signaling the animal, who had been curled up beside their bed.
"Would it be inappropriate for me to come?" Jondalar said. It wasn't so much that he wanted to be there for the birthing as that he was worried about Ayla going out in the blizzard. S'Armuna looked at Esadoa.
"I don't mind, but should a man be at a birthing?" Esadoa said.
"There is no reason why not," S'Armuna said, "and it might be a good thing to have a man nearby since she has no mate."
They all braved the brunt of the wind together as the three women and the man went out into the howling gale. When they reached the big lodge, they found the young woman huddled over a cold, empty fireplace, her body tense with pain and a look of fear in her eyes. She brightened with relief when she saw her mother arrive with the others. Within moments, Ayla had a fire lit – much to the surprise of Esadoa – Jondalar was back outside getting snow from a drift to melt for water, Esadoa found the bedding that had been put away and arranged it on a bed platform, and S'Armuna was selecting various herbs that she might need from the supply she had brought there before.
Ayla settled the young woman, arranging everything so she could sit up comfortably or lie down if she chose, but she waited for S'Armuna and then both examined her. After reassuring Cavoa and leaving her with her mother, the two healers walked back to the fireplace and spoke quietly with each other.
"Did you notice?" S'Armuna asked.
"Yes. Do you know what it means?" Ayla said.
"I have an idea, but I think we'll just have to wait and see."
Jondalar had been trying to stay out of the way, and he approached the two women slowly. Something about their expressions made him sense that they felt some concern, which caused him to worry as well. He sat down on a sleeping platform and absently stroked the wolf's head.
As they waited, Jondalar paced nervously while Wolf watched him. He wished the time would pass more quickly, or that the storm would let up, or that he had something to do. He talked to the young woman a little, trying to be encouraging, and he smiled at her often, but he felt entirely useless. There was nothing he could do. Finally, as the night dragged on, he dozed a little on one of the beds, while the ghostly sound of the storm outside wailed an eerie counterpoint to the waiting scene inside, punctuated by periodic sounds of straining labor, slowly but inexorably drawing closer together.
He awoke to the sound of excited voices amidst a flurry of activity. Light was coming through the cracks around the smoke hole. He got up, stretched, and rubbed his eyes. Ignored by the three women, he went outside to pass his morning water. He was glad to see the storm had abated, though a few dry flakes were swirling in the wind.
As he started into the lodge, he heard the unmistakable squall of a newborn. He smiled but waited outside, not sure if it was an appropriate moment to go back in. Suddenly, to his surprise, he heard another squall, which caused the first one to make it a duet. Two of them! He couldn't resist. He had to go in.
Ayla, holding a swaddled infant in her arms, smiled as he came through the entrance. "A boy, Jondalar!"
S'Armuna was lifting a second baby, preparing to tie the umbilical cord. "And a girl," she said. "Twins! It's a favorable sign. So few babies were born while Attaroa was leader, but now I think that will change. I think this is the Mother's way of telling us the Camp of the Three Sisters will soon be growing and full of life again."
"Will you come back someday?" Doban asked the tall man. He was getting around much better, though he still used the crutch that Jondalar had made for him.
"I don't think so, Doban. One long Journey is enough. It's time to go home, settle down, and establish my hearth."
"I wish you lived closer, Zelandon."
"So do I. You are going to be a good flint knapper, and I would like to continue training you. And, by the way, Doban, you can call me Jondalar."
"No. You are Zelandon."
"You mean Zelandonii?"
"No, I mean Zelandon."
S'Amodun smiled. "He doesn't mean the name of your people. He has made your name Elandon, but honors you with S'Elandon."
Jondalar flushed with embarrassment and pleasure. "Thank you, Doban. Maybe I should call you S'Ardoban."
"Not yet. When I learn to work the flint like you, then they may call me S'Ardoban."
Jondalar gave the young man a warm hug, clasped the shoulders of a few others, and chatted with them. The horses, packed and ready to go, had wandered off a short distance, and Wolf had dropped to the ground, watching the man. He got up when he saw Ayla and S'Armuna coming out of the lodge. Jondalar was glad to see them, too.
"…It is beautiful," the older woman was saying, "and I'm overwhelmed that she cared so much that she wanted to do it, but… you don't think it's dangerous?"
"As long as you keep the carving of your face, how can it be dangerous? It may bring you closer to the Mother, give you deeper understanding," Ayla said.
They hugged each other, then S'Armuna gave Jondalar a big hug. She stepped back when they called the horses, but she reached out and touched his arm to detain him another moment.
"Jondalar, when you see Marthona, tell her S'Armu… no, tell her Bodoa sends her love."
"I will. I think it will please her," he said, mounting the stallion.
They turned around and waved, but Jondalar was relieved to be going. He would never be able to think of this Camp without mixed feelings.
Snow began filtering down again as they rode away. The people of the Camp waved and wished them well. "Good Journey, S'Elandon." "Safe travels, S'Ayla."
As they disappeared into the softly obscuring white flakes, there was hardly a soul who did not believe – or want to believe – that Ayla and Jondalar had come to rid them of Attaroa and free their men. As soon as the horse-riding couple were out of sight, they would transform themselves into the Great Earth Mother and Her Fair Celestial Mate, and they would ride the wind across the skies, trailed by their faithful protector, the Wolf Star.