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"Why shouldn't we come back, Attaroa? Weren't we invited to a feast in our honor?" Ayla said. "We have brought our contribution of food."
As her words were translated, Ayla threw her leg over and slid down from Whinney's back, then lifted the largest bowl and set it on the ground between Attaroa and S'Armuna. She picked up the basket cover, and the delicious aroma from the huge mound of grains cooked with other foods made everyone stare in wonder as their mouths watered. It was a treat they had seldom enjoyed in recent years, especially in winter. Even Attaroa was momentarily overwhelmed.
"There seems to be enough for everyone," she said.
"That is only for the women and children," Ayla said. Then she took the slightly smaller woven bowl that Jondalar had just brought and put it down beside the first. She lifted the lid and announced, "This is for the men."
A murmuring undercurrent arose from behind the fence, and from the women who had come out of their lodges, but Attaroa was furious. "What do you mean, for the men?"
"Certainly when the leader of a Camp announces a feast in honor of a visitor, it includes all the people? I presumed that you were the leader of the entire Camp, and that I was expected to bring enough for all. You are the leader of everyone, aren't you?"
"Of course I am the leader of everyone," Attaroa sputtered, caught at a loss for words.
"If you aren't ready yet, I think I should take these bowls inside, so they don't freeze," Ayla said, picking up the larger bowl again and turning toward S'Armuna. Jondalar took the other.
Attaroa quickly recovered. "I invited you to stay in my lodge," she said.
"But I'm sure you are busy with preparations," Ayla said, "and I would not want to impose on the leader of this Camp. It is more appropriate for us to stay with the One Who Serves the Mother." S'Armuna translated, then added, "It is the way it is always done."
Ayla turned to go, saying to Jondalar under her breath, "Start walking toward S'Armuna's lodge!"
As Attaroa watched them go with the shaman, a smile of pure evil slowly altered her features, turning a face that could have been beautiful into a hideous, subhuman caricature. They were stupid to come back here, she thought, knowing that their return had given her the opportunity she wanted: her chance to destroy them. But she also knew she would have to catch them off guard. When she thought about it, she was glad to let them go with S'Armuna. It would get them out of the way. She wanted time to think and discuss plans with Epadoa, who had not yet returned.
For the time being, however, she would have to go along with this feast. She signaled one of the women, the one who had a baby girl and was a favorite, and told her to tell the other women to prepare some food for a celebration. "Make enough for everyone," the headwoman said, "including the men in the Holding."
The woman looked surprised, but she nodded and hurried away.
"I would guess you are ready for some hot tea," S'Armuna said, after she showed Ayla and Jondalar to their sleeping places, expecting Attaroa to come charging in any moment. But after they had drunk their tea without being disturbed, she relaxed a little. The longer Ayla and Jondalar were there without the headwoman objecting, the more it was likely they would be allowed to stay.
But as the tension of worrying about Attaroa eased, an uncomfortable silence descended on the three people seated around the hearth. Ayla studied the woman Who Served the Mother, trying not to be too obvious. Her face had a peculiar skew, the left side was much more prominent than the right, and she guessed S'Armuna might even have some pain in the underdeveloped right jaw when she chewed. The woman did nothing to hide the abnormality, wearing her graying, light brown hair with straightforward dignity, pulled back and up in a smooth bun near the top of her head. For some inexplicable reason, Ayla felt drawn to the older woman.
Ayla could not help but notice, however, a hesi
tancy in her manner, and she sensed that S'Armuna was pulled by indecision. She kept glancing toward Jondalar as if she wanted to say something to him but found it hard to begin, as if she were trying to find a delicate way to broach a difficult subject.
Acting on instinct, Ayla spoke up. "Jondalar told me that you knew his mother, S'Armuna," she said. "I wondered where you learned to speak his language so well."
The woman turned to the visitor with a look of surprise. His language, she thought, not hers? Ayla almost felt the shaman's sudden, intense evaluation of her, but her return gaze was just as strong.
"Yes, I knew Marthona, and the man she mated as well."
It seemed as though she wanted to say more, but instead she was silent. Jondalar filled the void, eager to talk about his home and family, especially with someone who once knew them.
"Was Joconan leader of the Ninth Cave when you were there?" Jondalar asked.
"No, but I'm not surprised that he became leader."
"They say Marthona was almost a coleader, like a Mamutoi head-woman, I suppose. That's why, after Joconan died..."
"Joconan is dead?" S'Armuna interrupted. Ayla sensed her shock and noted an expression that showed something akin to grief. Then she seemed to gather her composure. "It must have been a difficult time for your mother."
"I'm sure it was, although I don't think she had much time to think about it, or to grieve too long. Everyone was pressing her to be leader. I don't know when she met Dalanar, but by the time she mated him, she had been leader of the Ninth Cave for several years. Zelandoni told me she was already blessed with me before the mating, so it should have been lucky, but they severed the knot a couple of years after I was born, and he chose to leave. I don't know what happened, but sad stories and songs about their love are still recalled. They embarrass Mother."
It was Ayla who prompted him to continue, for her own interest, although S'Armuna's interest was also obvious. "She mated again, and had more children, didn't she? I know you had another brother."
Jondalar continued, directing his comments at S'Armuna. "My brother Thonolan was born to Willomar's hearth, and my sister Folara, too. I think that was a good mating for her. Marthona is very happy with him, and he was always very good to me. He used to travel a lot, go on trading missions for my mother. He took me with him sometimes. Thonolan, too, when he got old enough. For a long time I thought of Willomar as the man of my hearth, until I went to live with Dalanar and got to know him a little better. I still feel close to him, although Dalanar was also very kind to me, and I grew to love him, too. But everyone likes Dalanar. He found a flint mine, met Jerika, and started his own Cave. They had a daughter, Joplaya, my close-cousin."
It suddenly occurred to Ayla that if a man was as much responsible for starting a new life growing inside a woman as the woman was, then the "cousin" he called Joplaya was actually his sibling; as much a sister as the one named Folara. Close-cousin, he had called her; was that because they recognized it was a closer tie than the relationship to the children of a mother's sisters or the mates of her brothers? The conversation about Jondalar's mother had gone on while she pondered the implications of Jondalar's kin.
