Beyond the valley was the huge body of water Zena had seen in her vision. A pale luminous green near the shore, it deepened into turquoise, then shades of blue and slate gray as it met the horizon. There was no end to it, at least no end that Zena could see. It stretched away from the long, curving coastline at the northern edge of the valley and disappeared into an unfathomable distance. Enormous fish leaped from its depths and twisted their sleek gray bodies in the air, then tumbled back with a mighty splash. The fine-grained earth was here, too, sparkling white in the sun, just as she had seen it in the vision. The cool, moist granules crumbled beneath their feet, and rustled softly as they slid back and forth with the surging water. A multitude of scurrying crabs and other tiny creatures hid beneath the porous surface. Bubbles twinkled above their fragile homes, making them easy to find. The children delighted in digging them out and watching them wave their miniature claws in defiance or scramble frantically toward the safety of the water. Sometimes they brought the crabs back as food, but Zena cautioned them over and over never to take more than they needed. The Mother had brought them to this paradise, and they must not abuse Her generosity.
She rose, anxious to resume her search. She was looking for a place to build a new circle of stones. Deep in her heart, she had always known she must build one when she arrived at her destination. Like the circle of stones by the river, it would be a place to give birth, but even more, this one would be a place to honor the Mother. Zena was determined to find exactly the right location. She wanted to create the feeling of peace and enclosure she remembered so well, but she also wanted to be able to look out upon the valley so that they would be constantly reminded of the abundance the Mother had provided.
For days, she had been scouring the area near the clearing where they had constructed their shelter, worried that her infant would be born before she had built the circle of stones. But so far, none of the places had felt right. Her chest tightened with anxiety lest she fail in her search and disappoint the Mother. Then she began to laugh at her stubbornness, at her slowness, still, to understand the Mother's ways. While she carried this burden of anxiety in her heart, she would never find what she sought. There was no need to struggle; she needed only to let the Mother guide her.
Zena relaxed and began to wander peacefully through the quiet woods, the fragrant fields, letting the Mother lead her as She would. And just as the sun reached the western horizon, she found it. As soon as she came to the secluded glen, she knew. This was the place. The Mother was here; Zena could feel Her presence strongly, and she felt the same sense of peace she remembered from the first circle of stones, where all her worries had seemed to melt away. She could see the valley, too, in all its splendor. Tall trees enclosed the little glen on three sides, but just as she had wanted, the fourth side was open to a magnificent view of the valley and the great water to the east.
She rested for a moment, savoring her find. Then she trudged off, heavy now with the unborn child, to find the others, so they could begin work right away. Already, they had located suitable stones. Together, they hauled them to the glen.
Zena picked up the first stone and laid it carefully against the fragrant earth. She bent to pick up another, and a strange confusion overcame her. She could not think for a moment who she was, or why she was placing stones in this way. It was as if another person had entered her body, were picking up one stone after another and arranging them carefully in a circle. Too absorbed in her movements to wonder at the strange feeling, she simply accepted it and continued the task. The others helped her, and soon the circle of stones was complete.
Zena shook her head, to clear it. Her confusion vanished, and she remembered what she wanted to do next.
"Help me bring this one now," she told Bran and Kropor, pointing to a flat slab of rock she had found earlier.
Together they dragged it to a clear space near the open end of the glen. The men helped her to balance the slab on two upstanding rocks, so that it formed a shelf. There she placed the first statue Lett had made, where all could see it when they came to speak to the Mother and listen for Her voice.
A few days later, the first contraction plunged through Zena's body. She smiled. This was as it should be. The circle of stones was ready, and the moon was full, to help draw the infant forth. Now her child could be born.
Another contraction came, and then another. Already, they were strong and close together. Zena sensed she would not have long to wait. She called to Nyta, to bring dry grasses and fresh water from the stream that bubbled nearby. Then she began to walk, around and around the circle, absorbing the Mother's peace, savoring her joy at being in this glorious place. Each time she came to the open end of the glen, she paused to look out at the valley, the glimmering water, and the beauty she saw there seemed to draw away her pain, give her the strength to walk some more.
Lotan came to her and shyly handed her a statue he had just finished. It was the best he had ever made. Polished to a high sheen, its dark wood seemed to pull in the last rays of the sun and reflect them back into Zena's body. She felt the warmth go into her, easing the tightness in her belly.
"I thank you, Lotan. It is beautiful. Already, I feel the Mother in this one."
Zena regarded the small figure gravely. Like the others, its belly and breasts were full and rounded, but it had a larger head, and its face had expression, as if it were aware that it was more than a wooden statue. Zena hugged it close to her heart and went to rest for a moment on the bed of fragrant grasses the other women had prepared. She had intended to get up again and resume her patient pacing, but the infant did not let her. As soon as she lay down, she felt its head between her legs.
The moon slid out from behind the trees. Zena smiled in welcome. Once, she remembered, the moon had made her uneasy. Now it gave her comfort, and she looked to it for guidance. The moon marked the passage of the seasons, gave order to their lives. It told them when the rains would come, and the dryness, when an infant was ready to emerge from its mother's womb, even helped to pull it forth.
"Pull", she said to the moon. "Pull while I push, so that the infant may be born."
She raised herself to a crouch and almost fell as the next contraction rocked her body. Toro and Nyta grasped her shoulders to steady her. Now the spasms came so fast and strong she had to gasp to breathe. Four more times, they tightened her belly. Then, without volition, Zena began to push down with all her strength.
"The little one comes fast," she heard Nyta say, and almost before the words were out of her mouth, Zena felt the baby slide out. Nyta reached down to catch it.
"Very fast," she amended, examining it carefully. Already, the child was squalling lustily.
"It is a male child," she said, handing the infant to Zena. "A good, strong one." Her eyes clouded as she thought of the maimed little creature she had borne, but she brightened quickly. A new baby always delighted Nyta.
Zena cradled her tiny son, feeling blessed. The infant was strong, and the birth had been easy, for like Kalar, she had wide hips and a big, strong body. As soon as she could get up, she would go to the alcove where Lett's figure stood, and thank the Mother. Perhaps she would place the statue Lotan had made beside it, as a special gift of thanks.
She tickled the baby's cheek with her finger and laughed, as Cere had once laughed, at the prompt response. His tiny head turned immediately toward her finger and his mouth pursed, ready to suck. She placed him at her breast. He nursed for a moment, then fell asleep. He, too, had worked hard during the birth.
She would call him Kalet, she decided. The first sound would remind her of Kalar, the second of Lett. When others were born, as she was certain they would be, she would name them in similar ways. They would have their own names, but still remind her of the ones she loved who had returned to the Mother.
Zena regained her strength quickly. Within a week, she was able to gather food with the others, and by the time the moon was full again, she felt completely normal, at peace with the wor
ld.
Her peace was shattered abruptly the first time the baby opened his eyes fully and stared up at her. She had noticed the paleness of his eyes before and had told herself the color was a trick of light. This time she knew it was not so. His eyes were exactly like Lotan's, nut-brown and flecked with gold.
A stillness came over Zena. For a long time, she could not move. Shivers of fear ran up her spine and lodged in her heart. She could not understand why Kalet's unusual eyes should bring such terror, but she was wise enough now not to question the unexpected response. The Mother had not given her fear without a reason. When She was ready, She would divulge its purpose.
Lotan came to admire the baby. For a split second, Zena thought to mention his eyes, but her mouth closed so quickly, so tightly, that she felt as if a hand had been placed against her lips. A terrible feeling of wrongness invaded her, as if she had been about to commit an act that would harm them all. Disturbed by these strange reactions, she handed Kalet to Sima, who loved to hold him, and went to sit in the circle of stones. Perhaps there, an explanation would emerge. But for the first time in her life, Zena found no peace in the blessed place. There was only the feeling of wrongness, the sense that some tragedy would overtake them unless she prevented it, only she did not know what was wrong, or what she should do.
Too restless to sit still, she wandered aimlessly away from the circle of stones. The Mother would not speak to her in Her special place while she held such torment in her heart. When she felt calmer, she would return. Finally, a strong impulse drew her to a steep hill above the clearing. Trees with round red fruit grew here, and the smell of their sweetness permeated the area. She sat on a thick ledge and faced the thoughts that were racing through her agitated mind.
Kalet's eyes were like Lotan's, and Lotan had been her mate. He had been her only mate, for no other men had been in the tribe except for Bran, who was brother to her, and Kropor, and she had never thought of him as mate.
Somehow, Lotan's eyes had grown again in Kalet. Part of Lotan was there, in her tiny son. Had he passed something to the baby, when he had mated with her? But if mating, and men, played a role in making infants, why had they never noticed before?
Zena's lips compressed as understanding came. Few men had a distinctive trait like Lotan's eyes that would be noticed. And almost never did a woman have only one mate. Zena could not remember such a thing happening before.
There was Three-Legs too. Twice, she had given birth after she had mated. Her tiny calf had lived this time, and delighted all of them with its antics. Had the male gazelle, like Lotan, passed something to her, that helped the calf to grow? Was that why she had been so eager to mate, so she could get a young one?
Around and around the thoughts flew through Zena's head. She let them whirl, sensing that calmness would return only after her mind had ceased its struggle to understand.
She was right. After many hours had passed, and the sun had traveled far across the sky, Zena realized that it did not matter whether males and mating were connected to young ones. The Mother was still Life-Giver. Everything, all that they had, came from the Mother. Without Her, there would be no animals, no food, no beauty or wonderment or joy in each other and the world around them. Nor did it matter whether she understood how males might pass something of themselves to young ones. That was not important. What was important was to understand the fear that had come into her heart, the terrible feeling of wrongness she had felt after she had started to speak to Lotan. It was as if the Mother Herself had placed a hand over her lips, to stop her. If the Mother did not want her to speak, there was a reason.
Slowly, carefully, Zena stilled her racing thoughts and opened herself to the Mother. The others saw her sitting there and did not disturb her. They knew without asking that she was waiting for a message. Though she was not in the right place, her stillness, her total lack of awareness, told them that. When Kalet began to cry, Sima gave him to Metep to suckle.
All through the evening, Zena waited. For a long time, all she felt was the sense of wrongness. Slowly, it escalated into fear, and then horror. She did not shrink, but let it fill her. Her eyes closed, as if to help her hold the feelings within her despite her pain, and when she opened them again, the valley had disappeared. She was no longer sitting on the hill; instead, she was on the mountain, on the flat rock, and the snake was before her, swaying, as it had swayed before.
Zena looked deep into the serpent's fathomless eyes, eyes that held the Mother's wisdom. A small part of her understood that she was still in her valley, but her heart knew she had returned to the mountain. So real was her vision that she began to sway in rhythm with the snake. She saw the golden summit, smelled the fragrance of flowers on the mountainside, felt the soft warm air.
Words came to her, only they were not words but thoughts that had no need of words. She drew them in, heard them with her mind, her heart, and her body.
"All things you may know but this. Only this knowledge, of mating and males, is forbidden. Do not speak, for if you do, all that I have wrought will be destroyed. Those who come after you will struggle to wrest food from a land no longer fruitful, and their young will be born into a world of pain. Remember this and do not speak, lest the horror you have felt fill the earth."
The snake's thoughts pummeled Zena; she felt sick and weak with their power. But the serpent had not finished. Abruptly, it ceased to sway and reared high above Zena. Its black eyes stared into hers with such force she fell back in fear. It did not strike at her sudden movement, but only lowered itself over her and continued its malevolent stare. Anguish poured into her from its eyes, a terrible, bloated anguish that filled her heart, as if years upon years of suffering had gathered there, leaving no space for any other feeling. Joy was lost, and love and caring. Where they had been was only pain.
The snake pulled back and coiled itself, as if waiting for Zena to respond.
"Never shall I speak of this knowledge," she vowed. "I have heard Your message, felt the anguish in Your eyes. I shall not speak." Her voice was no more than a whisper, but her thought was strong and clear.
For another long moment, the snake looked deep into her eyes. Then it turned and slithered away.
Zena sat transfixed. Darkness came, but still she sat, unable to move. Her body felt battered, bruised all over, as if she had been physically assaulted by the anguish in her heart. Slowly, the terrible feelings faded, and after a long time, they disappeared, and she could not remember the agony she had felt. But her memory of the snake's message remained. She did not forget the terrifying words, and she did not forget the vow she had made. Never would she speak of the forbidden knowledge.
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Zena kept her promise. All through her life, she told no one of her experience, and she never spoke of the connection between mating and young ones. Slowly, peace returned to her heart, a peace interrupted only occasionally by reminders of the knowledge she must never divulge. Once, Lotan commented on Kalet's unusual eyes. But since he had never seen his own eyes, Zena did not worry that he might compare them and wonder. It was harder with the others, when they noticed the similarity.
"The Mother gives us many colors," she told them, keeping her voice serene. "Look at the birds! Perhaps She will give us more of these beautiful eyes in other young ones."
No one challenged this explanation, but Zena was still careful to mate with other men as well as Lotan, so he would not give the gold-flecked eyes to all her young ones. That was not difficult, for a number of other tribes with whom they often interacted lived in the rocky hills at the western end of the valley. To have others with whom she could share this special pleasure was good, but Lotan remained her favorite. The passion they had inspired in each other the first time they had mated never dimmed, and she chose him as her mate as often as she could without neglecting the others.
About five moons after Kalet's birth, Zena noticed blood dribbling down her leg. At first, she was frightened and feared she migh
t be dying, like Ralak. The other women never had the bleeding while they were still suckling an infant. But she felt no weakness, had no sense that there was anything wrong within her body. Instead, she felt healthy and strong, full of vigor. That would not be so, if she were dying. The Mother would not fool her. She ceased to worry, and after a few days, the bleeding tapered off and then stopped.
A few weeks later, it came again for a few days, then stopped again. Soon, she realized that the bleeding came with the full moon. The moon seemed to draw it forth, as it had drawn Kalet forth. If the moon was involved, the blood must have special power. Zena began to welcome it as a time when she felt especially strong and close to the Mother. Often, she spent long hours communing with Her in the circle of stones as the blood from deep within her body seeped into the earth. It was indeed sacred, she realized, for unlike other blood, that signified wounds and death, this blood gave life. Where it had fallen, the earth was fertile, and flowers grew in great abundance.
When one full moon and then another passed and no blood came, Zena feared at first that she had displeased the Mother. But she felt at peace, had no sense that she had wronged Her. Instead, she began to suspect something else. Her body felt different, as it had with Kalet, and she was almost certain the Mother had placed a new life within her. That another infant should come so soon was astonishing. No woman had ever begun another child until the first was weaned, after four or five full cycles of the seasons. Still, she was content. If the Mother wished to entrust her with another life so soon after the first, she would welcome it. The other women could help to feed Kalet if that was needed. Deep in her mind, Zena knew the new life had come from one of the men as well as the Mother, but she ignored the knowledge. Mating was a gift from the Mother, and new life was a gift from the Mother. That was enough.
CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES) Page 30