The mere thought that she had chosen someone else brought pain, but when he heard the unmistakable sounds of her sharing Pleasures with Ranec, he muffled a moan, pounded the bed, and doubled up in agony. It was like a hot coal was boiling in his belly. His chest felt tight, his throat burned, he breathed in muffled gasps as though choking on smoky steam. Pressure forced hot tears out at the corners of his eyes though he squeezed them shut as tightly as he could.
Finally it ended, and when he was sure, he relaxed a little. But then it started again, and he couldn’t stand it. He jumped up, stood irresolute for a moment, then raced out the entrance to the new annex. Whinney’s ears perked up and turned toward him as he ran past and through the exterior arch to the outside.
The wind buffeted him against the earthlodge. The sudden cold took his breath away and startled him into awareness of his surroundings. He looked out across the frozen river, and watched clouds streaming across the moon, trailing ragged edges. He took a few steps away from the shelter. Knives of wind tore through his tunic, and it seemed, through his skin and muscle to the marrow of his bone.
He went back inside, shivering, plodded past the horses and into the Mammoth Hearth again. He tensed up, listening, and heard nothing at first. Then came the sounds of breathing and moaning and grunting. He looked at his bed platform, then turned back toward the annex, not knowing which way to go. He couldn’t stand it inside; he couldn’t stay alive outside. Finally he couldn’t bear it. He had to go out. Grabbing his traveling sleeping furs, he went back through the archway to the horses’ annex.
Whinney snorted and tossed her head, and Racer, who was lying down, lifted his head off the ground and nickered a soft greeting. Jondalar headed toward the animals, spread his furs out on the ground beside Racer, and got in them. It was cold in the annex, but not nearly as cold as outside. There was no wind, some heat filtered through, and the horses generated more. And their breathing covered up the sounds of other heavy breathing. Even so, he lay awake most of the night, his
mind recalling sounds, replaying scenes, real and imagined, over and over again.
Ayla woke as the first slivers of daylight stole through cracks around the cover of the smoke hole. She reached across the bed for Jondalar, and was disconcerted to find Ranec. With the memory of the night before came the knowledge that she was going to have a bad headache; the effects of Talut’s bouza. She slipped out of bed, picked up the clothes Ranec had arranged so neatly, and hurried to her own bed. Jondalar was not there, either. She looked around the Mammoth Hearth at the other beds. Deegie and Tornec were sleeping in one, and she wondered if they had shared Pleasures. Then she recalled that Wymez had been invited to the Aurochs Hearth and Tronie wasn’t feeling well. Perhaps Deegie and Tornec had just found it more convenient to sleep there. It didn’t matter, but she wondered where Jondalar was.
She remembered that she hadn’t seen him after it grew late the night before. Someone said he had gone to bed, but where was he now? She noticed Deegie and Tornec again. He must be sleeping at a different hearth, too, she thought. She was tempted to check, but no one else seemed to be up and about, and she didn’t want to wake anyone. Feeling uneasy, she crawled into her empty bed, pulled the furs around her, and after a while, slept again.
When she awoke the next time, the smoke-hole cover had been moved aside and bright daylight beamed in. She started to get up, then, feeling an enormous throbbing pain in her head, dropped back down and closed her eyes. Either I am very sick, or this is from Talut’s bouza, she thought. Why do people like to drink it if it makes them so sick? Then she thought about the celebration. She didn’t have a clear memory of it all, but she did recall playing rhythms, dancing and singing, though she didn’t really know how. She had laughed a lot, even at herself when she found she had little voice for singing, not minding at all that she was the center of attention. That wasn’t like her. Normally she preferred to stay in the background and watch, and do her learning and practicing in private. Was it the bouza that changed her normal inclination and caused her to be less careful? More forward? Is that why people drank it?
She opened her eyes again, and then got up very carefully, holding her head. She relieved herself in the indoor night
basket—a tightly woven basket about half full of the dry pulverized dung of grazing animals from the steppes, which absorbed liquid and fecal matter. She washed herself with cold water. Then she stirred up the fire and added hot cooking stones. She dressed in the clothing she had made before she came, thinking of it now as a rather plain everyday outfit, though when she made it, it had seemed very exotic and complex.
Still moving carefully, she took several packets from her medicine bag and mixed up willow bark, yarrow, wood betony, and chamomile in various proportions. She poured cold water into the cooking basket she used for morning tea, added hot rocks until it boiled, then the tea. Then hunkered in front of the fire with her eyes closed while she waited for the tea to steep. Suddenly, she jumped up, feeling her head throb but ignoring it, and reached for her medicine bag again.
I almost forgot, she thought, taking out her packets of Iza’s secret contraceptive herbs. Whether it helped her totem fight off the spirit of a man’s totem, as lza thought, or somehow resisted the essence of a man’s organ, as she suspected, Ayla did not want to take the chance of starting a baby now. Everything was too unsettled. She had wanted a baby started by Jondalar, but while she was waiting for the tea, she began to wonder how a baby, who was a mixture of her and Ranec, would look. Like him? Like me? Or a little of both? Probably both, like Durc … and Rydag. They were mixtures. A dark son from Ranec would look different, too, except, she thought with a trace of bitterness, no one would call him an abomination, or think he was an animal. He would be able to talk and laugh and cry, just like everyone else.
Knowing how Talut had appreciated her headache remedy the last time he drank his brew, Ayla made enough for several people. After she drank hers, she went out to look for Jondalar. The new annex leading out directly from the Mammoth Hearth was proving
TO
be quite a convenience, and for some reason she was glad she didn’t have to go through the Fox Hearth. The horses were outside, but as she walked through, she noticed Jondalar’s traveling sleeping fur rolled up next to the wall and wondered, in passing, how it got there.
As she pushed aside the drape and stepped through the
second arch, she saw Talut, Wymez, and Mamut talking with Jondalar, whose back was to her.
“How is head, Talut?” she asked as she approached.
“Are you offering me some of your magic morning-after medicine?”
“I have headache, and make tea. There is more, inside,” she said, then turned to Jondalar with a full, happy smile now that she had found him.
For an instant her smile brought a like response, but just for an instant. Then his face clouded into a dark frown and his eyes filled with a look she had never seen there before. Her smile left her.
“You want tea, too, Jondalar?” she asked, confused and distraught.
“Why do you think I need it? I didn’t drink too much last night, but I don’t suppose you noticed,” he replied in a voice so cold and distant she hardly recognized it.
“Where you go? I look for you early, but not in bed.”
“Neither were you,” he said. “I hardly think it mattered to you where I was.” He turned and walked away from her. She looked at the other three men. She saw embarrassment on Talut’s face. Wymez looked uncomfortable, but not entirely unhappy. Mamut had a look she couldn’t decipher.
“Ah … I think I’ll go get some of that tea you offered,” Talut said, quickly ducking into the lodge.
“Perhaps I’ll try a cup, too,” Wymez said, and followed him.
What did I do wrong? Ayla thought, and the uneasiness she had been feeling grew into a hard knot of distress in the pit of her stomach.
Mamut studied her, then said, “I think you should come and talk to me, Ayla. Later, when we can have a moment alone. Your tea may bring several visitors to the hearth now. Why don’t you get something to eat?”
“I am not hungry,” Ayla said, her stomach churning. She did not want to start out with her new people doing something wrong, and she wondered why Jondalar was so angry.
Mamut smiled reassuringly. “You should try to eat something. There is mammoth meat left over from your feast, and I think Nezzie saved one of those steamed loaves for you.”
Ayla nodded. As she walked toward the main entrance of the longhouse, upset and worried, she looked for the horses with the part of her mind that was always concerned for
them. When she saw them she noticed Jondalar was with them, and felt a small sense of relief. She had often drawn comfort from the animals when she was troubled, and while not a completely formed thought, she hoped that turning to them would eventually make Jondalar feel better.
She passed through the foyer and into the cooking hearth. Nezzie was sitting with Rydag and Rugie, eating. She smiled when she saw Ayla and got up. For all that she was amply proportioned, Nezzie was active and graceful in her movements and, Ayla suspected, probably quite strong.
“Get yourself some meat. I’ll get the loaf I put aside for you. It’s the last one,” Nezzie said. “And get a cup of hot tea, if you want. It’s fireweed and mint.”
Ayla broke off pieces of the firm, moist loaf for Rydag and Rugie when she sat down with them and Nezzie, but only picked at her own food.
“Is something wrong, Ayla?” the woman asked. She knew there was, and had some idea of the cause.
Ayla looked at her with troubled eyes. “Nezzie, I know Clan ways, not Mamutoi ways. Want to learn, want to be good Mamutoi woman, but not know when I do wrong. I think last night I do something wrong.”
“What makes you think so?”
“When I go out, Jondalar angry. I think Talut not happy. Wymez, too. They leave, quick. Tell me what I did wrong, Nezzie.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Ayla, unless being loved by two men is wrong. Some men feel possessive when they have strong feelings for a woman. They don’t want her to be with other men. Jondalar feels he has a claim on you and is angry because you shared Ranec’s bed. But it is not just Jondalar. I think Ranec feels the same way, and would be just as possessive if he could. I raised him since he was a boy, and I have never seen him so taken with a woman. I think Jondalar is trying not to show how he feels, but he can’t help it, and if he showed his anger, it probably embarrassed Talut and Wymez. That might be why they left in a hurry.
“Sometimes, we yell a lot, or tease each other. We take pride in hospitality and like to be friendly, but the Mamutoi do not show their deepest feelings too much. It can cause trouble, and we try to avoid disputes and discourage fighting. The Council of Sisters even frowns on the raids the young men like to make on other people, like the Sungaea, and are
trying to ban them. The Sisters say it just invites raids in return, and people have been killed. They say it’s better to trade than raid. The Council of Brothers is more lenient. Most of them did a bit of raiding in their youth, and say it’s just a way to use young muscles and make a little excitement for themselves.”
Ayla was no longer listening. Rather than clarifying anything, Nezzie’s explanation only made her more confused. Was Jondalar angry because she had responded to another man’s signal? Was that a reason to get angry? No man of the Clan would indulge in such an emotional response. Broud was the only man who had ever shown the least interest in her, and then only because he knew she hated it. But many people wondered why he was bothering with such an ugly woman and he would have welcomed interest by another man. When she thought about it, she realized that Jondalar had been bothered by Ranec’s interest from the beginning.
Mamut came in from the entrance foyer walking with discernible difficulty.
“Nezzie, I promised to fill Mamut’s medicine bowl with help for arthritis,” Ayla said.
She got up to help him, but he waved her away. “You go ahead. I’ll be there. It will just take me a little longer.”
She rushed through the Lion Hearth and the Fox Hearth, relieved to find it empty, and added fuel to the fire at the Mammoth Hearth. As she sorted through her medications, she recalled the many times she had applied poultices and plasters, and made painkilling drinks to ease Creb’s aching joints. It was one aspect of her medicine she knew very well.
She waited until Mamut was resting comfortably, sipping a warm tea after she had drawn off and soaked away most of his ancient aches, before she asked any questions. It was soothing for her as well as the old shaman to apply her knowledge, skill, and intelligence in the practice of her craft, and it relieved some of the stress she had been feeling. Yet when she picked up a cup of tea and sat opposite Mamut, she didn’t quite know where to begin.
“Mamut, did you stay long with Clan?” she finally asked.
“Yes, it takes awhile for a bad break to heal, and by then, I wanted to know more, so I stayed until they left for the Clan Gathering.”
“You learn Clan ways?”
“Some of them.”
“You know about signal?”
“Yes, Ayla, I know about the signal a man gives a woman.” He paused, seeming to consider, then continued, “I will tell you something I have never told anyone else. There was a young woman who helped to take care of me while my arm was mending, and after I was included in a hunting ceremony and hunted with them, she was given to me. I know what the signal is, and what it means. I used the signal, though at first I was not comfortable about it. She was a flathead woman, and not very appealing to me, particularly since I’d heard so many stories about them while I was growing up. But I was young and healthy, and I was expected to behave like a man of the Clan.
“The longer I stayed, the more appealing she became—you have no idea how appealing it can be to have someone waiting on your every need or desire. It wasn’t until later that I discovered she had a mate. She was a second woman, her first mate had died so one of the other hunters took her in, a little reluctantly since she came from a different clan and had no children. When I left, I did not want to leave her behind, but I felt she would be happier with a clan than with me and my people. And I wasn’t sure how I would be welcomed if I returned with a flathead woman. I have often wondered what happened to her.”