CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES)

by LAMBERT, JOAN DAHR

  Toro and Metep sat nearby making slings. Toro had a new infant now, and Metep was pregnant, so they needed them. Nyta helped, patiently showing them how to weave strands together and make firm knots. The presence of others seemed to have revived Nyta. She still did not remember what had happened to them, but she was cheerful and active now, no longer in a trance. All of them had improved in the time they had been together. Though they thought often of the ones they had lost, grief no longer robbed them of energy and motivation.

  Zena had grown quickly in the years since the stampede. At thirteen, she was taller than Ralak, and her hips and breasts had filled out. She moved with grace and authority, and sometimes Lotan looked at her longingly as unfamiliar sensations stirred in his loins. Her curiosity had come back, but so had her stubborn independence. She wanted to figure out everything for herself, without waiting to listen to others. Especially, she did not want to listen for the Mother, or feel Her presence. Though her anger had gone, she still she did not trust any force beyond herself, lest it betray her.

  Ralak despaired sometimes that Zena would ever fully open her heart again. It would be necessary, soon, to challenge her, she thought, as she herself had once been challenged. That was why she had brought them to this place.

  She had told Zena many times of the earthforce, and had heard from her of the Mother, of Kalar, who had represented Her. That the earthforce should also be Mother had seemed instantly obvious to Ralak, as if a connection between her mind and heart had suddenly slipped into place. She had always understood the power of the earthforce, but she had felt, too, that there was something closer, warmer. She had found it in the Mother.

  Still, both could be harsh as well as gentle, and it was this that Zena would not accept. She knew with her mind that the earthforce and the Mother could kill as well as offering the promise of life, but she did not know it in her heart. To make the heart accept was hardest of all.

  Ralak held up the wide-hipped statue Lett had made. "The earthforce is in this one," she said. "I feel it. You feel it now." She handed it to Zena and waited.

  Zena took the small figure reluctantly. A shudder ran through her. It seemed to come from the statue, and she put it down again quickly.

  "I feel it," she agreed. "But there is fear in it too."

  "The fear is in you, not in the figure," Ralak retorted. Then she softened.

  "The earthforce and the Mother are the same," she told Zena patiently. "And both can hurt. From them come the mountains that explode, the lightning, even the dryness that kills. But from them, too, come rain, and life. They are both - death as well as life, pain as well as joy."

  "Why must that be? Why is the Mother cruel?" Zena's lips twisted with remembered grief, and she pounded the ground for emphasis.

  "There is no answer. Only that the Mother is as She is, and the earthforce is all that happens."

  Ralak sighed as she answered. She was not sure herself; she knew only that it was necessary to accept. Especially, it was necessary for Zena to accept, and little time was left to teach her. The pain low in Ralak's belly, the blood that dribbled from a place deep inside her told her this. Hardly noticeable at first, the symptoms had worsened fast. Each day, she seemed to be weaker.

  Lotan spoke for the first time. "We are not so important, I think," he mused. He pointed to Three-Legs. "We are like her, only one of many. That some should feed the lion while others live is good. The lion must eat too."

  Zena nodded. That made sense to her. Lotan often made sense. She looked at him appraisingly. He, too, had grown, though he was not big like Bran. He was small and wiry and strong, and sometimes when he glanced at her she felt a strange tingling.

  "I still do not think the Mother should have killed so many, and for no reason," she said stubbornly, to cover her confusion.

  Sima volunteered a thought. "But now we have others," she commented, "and that is good."

  Zena smiled at her. "You are right, Sima. The Mother has given us Ralak and the others instead."

  She thought seriously for a moment, trying hard to set her doubts aside. She had learned from Ralak; knew her as she had never known another, as if their minds were one. Was that, perhaps, the Mother's way, to give her Ralak instead of Kalar, to teach her? Though she often tried to avoid the thought, Zena knew she was destined to speak for the Mother. She knew it, but pushed the knowledge away, lest she be hurt again.

  She pushed another thought away as well, a thought that was deeper than knowledge, for it came from her body and her heart, as if they were connected to Ralak's heart and body. Ralak was dying. The life force was slowly draining from her. Ralak had never spoken of it, but Zena knew.

  She jumped to her feet. "Let us look for food now," she said. "Soon the light will be gone."

  Lotan followed as she ran toward the hill where fruit had ripened on the trees. Together, they gathered a big pile to take back to the others, then they sat down to eat some themselves. This was the time of day Zena loved best, when brilliant hues of pink and orange and crimson lit up the sky, and the birds clustered in the trees, jostling and screeching at each other as they settled for the night. It was the time when animals came to drink in the pond below them, and predators stalked the unwary.

  She shivered and moved closer to Lotan. He put an arm around her, and when he touched her, a ripple of pleasure coursed through her body.

  Lotan stiffened, and pointed wordlessly. She followed his finger, but still she had to stare for a long moment before she saw the tawny lioness crouched in the long grasses. A herd of zebra had come to drink, and her golden eyes were fixed on them with utter concentration. The herd had not yet detected her, and were drinking peacefully. Then, suddenly, one of them caught her scent and leaped away. The others followed, thrusting themselves forward in lunging strides, to put distance between themselves and the lioness. But now she had eyes only for one of them, one who had ventured deeper into the water than the others. Some zebras were closer to her, but she ignored them and charged toward the one she had chosen.

  The frantic animal lurched through the water in a desperate effort to reach the safety of the herd. But it was too late. The lioness sprang on its back and grasped its neck with her powerful jaws. Another lioness, hidden until now, attacked from the front and closed her teeth on its muzzle. The zebra screamed and went down. Its legs thrashed wildly as it tried to regain its feet, then it shuddered and lay still. But it was not dead yet: its head came up sharply, and the lioness at its muzzle lost her hold. She sank her teeth into its throat instead, and held on until the dying zebra ceased its feeble struggle.

  The two lionesses settled down to feed. They had taken only a few gulping bites when a thick-maned male shouldered them aside, growling and snapping. They retreated, then crept slowly toward the carcass again. One of them reached it and began to feed, but the male knocked her away. She waited again, then returned. The second lioness followed, and this time the male could not drive them away. They fed voraciously. A group of cubs arrived, and imitated their mothers, but they were not allowed to feed until the others were almost finished.

  Zena's breath escaped with an audible hiss. She had seen lions kill before, but never had she been so close. This time, she had seen the zebra's frantic eyes, heard its final scream, watched as the life drained from its body. It seemed to her that she had seen something else, too, something even more powerful than the tableau that had played itself out below her. She was not sure what this thing was, except that it had to do with the earthforce, with the way it moved from one to another. The life had gone from the zebra, but it had gone into the lions. The zebra's death was the lion's life.

  "The lions must eat too," she mused aloud. Then she sat up straight.

  "But why does the female kill and the male eat?" she asked indignantly. "The lioness should eat if she kills, and the cubs too. Why do they wait?"

  "All creatures are different," Lotan responded. He grinned. "I like this," he teased her. "She gets the food and he eats."r />
  Zena poked him playfully. "I do not," she retorted. "I am glad I am not a lioness."

  She lay back to enjoy the last blazing moments of the sunset. Lotan lay close beside her. His body was smooth and warm. A slight breeze blew across them, and Zena shivered as her skin cooled. She turned to draw more of Lotan's warmth, but he had turned, too, and when their bodies met in the new position, a sudden, piercing thrill passed between them. Zena felt it course through her body, and she knew Lotan had felt it, too, for his eyes widened in surprise, and he drew away.

  They stared at each other. At first, their look was restrained, but gradually their eyes softened so that they were seeing not each other but the feelings between them, feelings that surged beyond any possibility of retraction. Without volition, Zena's hand moved to caress Lotan's thigh. He moaned with pleasure. The sound excited her, made her feel powerful, and she stroked harder, all over his body. His hand returned the caresses. Her skin seemed to burn where he touched her, but it was a glowing burn of pleasure, not of hurt. She pulled closer until her belly and breasts seemed almost to melt into his warm skin. Now the glow had spread deep inside her, low between her legs.

  Lotan's hand moved down to caress her just outside the place where the glow was strongest, most demanding, and she cried out with delight. She felt her legs open, and was surprised. But then the sensations became so strong, so far beyond her power to control, that she ceased to think at all and just moved where passion took her. Groaning, she entwined her legs with his to get closer still. But it was not enough; she wanted more, wanted to feel him inside her.

  Again, her hand moved without volition as she guided him into her. He went deep, and deeper still, then retreated and came back. Zena clutched him, holding him in there, where she could feel something growing, swelling, as if it wanted to explode, like ripe fruit suddenly shedding its skin. And then it shattered. A place of pleasure she had never known before grew and grew, then cracked into pieces, so that the sensations radiated all over her body, into her arms and legs, her fingers and toes. Pleasure was everywhere, hot, overwhelming.

  Lotan lurched against her, then his body wrenched backward, and he screamed, a soft, urgent scream of passion. Zena thought she could feel in him what she had felt in herself, and she held him close until his shuddering subsided. Unexpectedly, the intense tingling filled her again, and she felt another swelling begin to grow, then explode. Twice again, her body filled and shattered, and she gasped as the sensations coursed through her.

  Lotan was still now, helpless against her. Zena did not move or speak. She could not. Somewhere deep inside her mind, she remembered Kalar's words, and Cere's.

  "Mating gives much pleasure," they had told her. They had been right.

  After a while, Zena realized that darkness was almost upon them. She shook Lotan. "We must leave. The sun has gone," she whispered.

  Lotan sat up and yawned. Then he seemed suddenly to remember what had happened, and he looked at Zena with startled eyes. In the dim light, the yellow flecks were almost invisible. "I have never mated before," he said.

  "I have not either," Zena told him. "I did not think I would mate, ever. I did not know it gave such pleasure."

  She grabbed his hand and they ran down the hill toward the clearing. Their group had built a good shelter, one that would last, with a large flat clearing where they could make baskets and sharpen sticks, and gather around the hearth fire at the end of the day. The fire was glowing now, welcoming them.

  Ralak looked up as they entered the circle of firelight. There was rapture on their faces; she saw it immediately, and knew its origin. There was no mistaking that special look. She was glad. Mating was of the Mother, for it involved feeling, not thinking. It would help Zena when the challenge came.

  She sighed. It had been many years since she herself had mated. Since the time when she had struggled so hard to give birth, something had felt wrong inside her. Once, she had tried to mate with Kropor, but it had hurt her, and she had sent him to Toro and Metep. It was not such a loss, she thought. She was not strong enough for mating anyway.

  She rose painfully to her feet, to go to the shelter. The ache in her belly was always there, deep and insistent, and the blood flowed harder. Her strength was waning fast.

  Kropor saw her struggle and came to help her. He never strayed far from her side, except when he disappeared in a temper, and he seemed always to know when she needed help. She smiled up at him gratefully. He was a valued companion now. She still had to shout words at him sometimes, for he was often irritable with the others, but he no longer seemed to mind her occasional anger. In fact, he appeared to enjoy it, and often grinned widely as her words pummeled him.

  She had finally come to understand why he had changed. Zena had explained it to her, while she listened in amazement.

  "He cares for you more than any other," Zena had told her. "When you left to look for Lotan, he felt a terrible sadness. He blamed Lotan, so he tried to hurt him. He said these things one day, but I knew already."

  Zena had discovered other things about Kropor too. Ralak was not sure how she had managed to elicit the story, for Kropor did not use many words, but somehow Zena had learned that he had been forced from his tribe when his mother had died, long before he was grown. He had been alone until he had found Ralak.

  That, Zena pronounced, was why he cared most for Ralak. At first, he had thought she was like the bad female who had forced him to leave, and had hurt her. Then he had realized she was like his mother instead. He had loved his mother too.

  It would be good, Ralak thought wryly, if Zena would put as much energy into listening to the Mother as she did listening to others. She loved to ask questions, and had pulled most of Ralak's story out of her, too, though Ralak had not intended to tell of her struggles. Zena knew of the deaths of her tribe and her brother; she knew how Ralak had clung to the earth in labor, how she had suffered when Lotan was gone. But Ralak had not told her of the challenge. That she must know without words.

  Zena came to give her the fruit she and Lotan had collected. Ralak took a few bites, and then lay back wearily.

  Zena took her hand and spoke softly. "If it pains you, I will give you the herbs."

  It was the first time she had referred to Ralak's illness. Her words signaled acceptance, and Ralak was grateful. If Zena could accept the Mother's way in this matter, she could accept it in others. She would be ready soon.

  Ralak's eyes closed, and the strain left her face. "Perhaps later," she said. "I sleep now."

  Zena continued to hold Ralak's hand. It was dry, the skin like thin bark stripped from a tree, and she could feel the bones clearly against their fragile covering.

  Darkness fell, and still Zena did not move. She felt connected to Ralak through her papery hand, as if she could feel Ralak's feelings, see and hear through her eyes and ears as well as her own. Together, they saw the fire flicker as Lotan placed more sticks on it, smelled the fragrance of the leaves he threw in the flames. They heard the noises around the clearing, of insects chirping and small monkeys chattering to each other as they prepared to sleep. They were different noises than Zena had known before, for Ralak had led them to a place where she had lived long ago. Even though all her tribe had died in this place, she had come back. Zena did not know why.

  Tall trees grew close around the clearing, filtering the moonlight, and the moss that hung thickly from their branches cast strange shadows. Frogs called in a cascading chorus that mimicked the water cascading through the many small streams. The smells were strong and moist. It was not like the place where they had met the Big Ones long ago, Zena reflected, for that had been dark and musty, as if the sun had never penetrated. Here, there were fragrant flowers and dappled sunlight, and greenness. Even the mountains were green. They rose from the valley floor, taking the vegetation with them into the swirling clouds.

  Zena sighed, and lay down beside Ralak, still holding her hand. She did not sleep, but she dreamed as if she were asleep
. She saw herself walking toward a tall mountain that rose steeply from a misty valley. She recognized the mountain, for it was not far away. She had often stared up at its conical peak spearing through the clouds that hugged its upper slopes. But in her dream, there was no peak, for where the top should be were only more clouds, heavy and white. They circled slowly, thinning as they moved, then dissipated suddenly. For an instant before they regrouped, Zena saw the summit, golden in the sunlight. It seemed to beckon her.

  She saw herself begin to climb the mountain. Moss and ferns grew thickly beneath her, and the earth was damp. Even in her dream-like state, she felt the dampness clearly, smelled the dank odors that rose into the air as her feet pressed against the lush growth.

  She wanted a track, she realized, so she could find her way through the mist and the clinging undergrowth to the top of the mountain. She was supposed to go there. Something waited for her there.

  Sleep overtook Zena and the mountain faded. She slept soundly, unaware of the others as they slid quietly into the shelter. But just as dawn crept across the land, sending fingers of pale light into the shelter, she heard Ralak stir beside her and utter a sharp cry.

  Alarm woke Zena quickly. She leaned over Ralak, trying to see her face clearly in the dimness, but then she realized she did not need to see. She knew already. Ralak was slipping away; she was going somewhere, and Zena could not stop her.

  Tears poured down her face and fell onto Ralak's thin cheeks. The wetness seemed to rouse Ralak, for she opened her eyes wide and stared straight at Zena.

  "Go!" she said hoarsely. "Go while I can help. You must go now. They will guide you."

  For a moment, Zena was confused. Where should she go, and why? Then she remembered. The mountain; she must go to the mountain. The dreamlike vision came back to her as if she were still within it.