CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES)

by LAMBERT, JOAN DAHR

  Nevilar did not speak to Gunor, but instead placed her hand gently on his arm and sat with him for a long time. The big, sad man appealed to her, and she did not want to leave him alone in his misery. She helped him gather branches filled with withered berries, for there were no flowers, to place over the dead woman's body. It was their custom, he said, to bury their dead ones nearby, covered with blossoms. Now a hole in the snow and branches would have to do.

  In the weeks that followed, Zena saw Nevilar walking with Gunor many times. When Nevilar confided that she had mated with him, Zena was not surprised. It seemed a good solution. There was only one other woman in Gunor's tribe, and she was hardly old enough to think of mating.

  Zena sighed. She herself had never thought to mate with Gunor. But then, she seldom felt the desire for Akat now. Even with Conar, she did not enjoy it as she had before. Ever since Tron had forced himself on her, she had felt wrong somehow, as if her body were not her own. To describe how she felt was hard. She had tried to tell Conar, and he had been wonderfully gentle and caring, but she was not sure that anyone could truly understand, even one like Conar.

  Perhaps it was because of Tron's attack that she still felt no joy about the infant within her, why she still had not spoken to Lune and Menta. She had thought to feel delight when she could finally tell them the Mother had given her a child, but instead the strange sense of wrongness was stronger than ever. It was as if Tron had left something of his violence deep within her belly, where the child also grew, that made her feel sadness about the new life instead of joy.

  When she finally gathered her courage and spoke to Lune and Menta, she began to understand. No one else was in the cave, for it was a bright day, with clear sunshine. Many were hunting, the others were outside, enjoying the rare warmth.

  Trying to sound cheerful and relaxed, Zena patted her belly. "The Mother has given me a little one," she said.

  Lune and Menta traded glances, as they so often did. Their faces were apprehensive, not excited as Zena had expected. A flutter of fear passed through her chest.

  "How many moons have passed?" her mother asked sharply.

  "Five now, at least," Zena replied. "I suspected this soon after I arrived here, but now am I certain. I can feel the child."

  Lune took a deep breath. "She must be told," she said to Menta. "We cannot keep the knowledge from her."

  "Yes. You are right." Menta's face turned haggard as she spoke. It was an expression that came to her only when she was confronted by a grave problem, one that was hard even for her to resolve.

  "What is this knowledge?" Zena asked hesitantly. There was a feeling inside her, deep and sure, that told her she did not want to know. She braced herself, as if for a blow.

  It was Lune who explained. Seating herself across from Zena, she spoke slowly, choosing her words with care.

  "Many years ago," she began, "I came across the knowledge as I watched the animals. I saw that the females became swollen with young only after they had mated, and then I understood that the males had given something of the life within to the females. I also saw, among the people, that some of the children took on the look of a particular man, just as part of its mother often shows in a child's features. Akat makes this possible, I realized, for during Akat the man passes something of himself to the woman who bears the child. I did not speak of this knowledge, for it seemed wrong to do so, though I did not understand why that should be."

  "Menta saw these things, too, but in a different way. She saw the knowledge through her visions. She did not speak of it either, for the visions warned of great agony among the people if she broke her silence. The knowledge was forbidden, the Mother told her, because there were some men who would abuse it, and all would suffer grievously as a result. But Menta saw the knowledge in my mind, as I saw it in hers. Always, we see this way, as you know. And so we spoke together, to think what we should do."

  Lune stopped for a moment to gather her thoughts. Zena waited dumbly for the next words. She knew already what they would be. The knowledge had been in her for a long time, though she had not recognized it.

  "As I watched over many years," Lune continued, "I saw that new life began more easily when Akat occurred midway between one bleeding and the next. That is why Menta and I sent young women like you and Nevilar, to the Ekali when the moon was only a sliver. We wanted to give you more time, so you would be stronger, more able to bear a child and care for it."

  A spasm of pain crossed Lune's face. To speak of the knowledge was easy, but to speak of what it meant to Zena was not. She had to force the next words from her throat.

  "It was at this time that Tron stole into the Ekali and violated you," she finally whispered. "That is why I feared for you, and now what we feared has happened..."

  She could not go on, and Menta finished her words. "That is why you must have the knowledge, Zena, even when it brings pain. You must know what to expect."

  Zena did not speak, could not speak. She felt as if someone had punched her hard in the chest, knocked all the air from her body. Of course these things were true. It was not the tree, the sacred figures, that made infants come, as she had persuaded herself. It was Akat, the Mother's gift, that made infants. And it was Tron who had made this one.

  All of it made sense now, the feeling of wrongness, the sadness. She had been right. Tron had indeed left something of himself inside her, and now she must nurture it, struggle to bear it, help it to take its first breath. She must suckle it at her breast, watch it grow, be reminded, every day of her life, that Tron had violated her, that his violence had become part of her, that she would never rid herself of it.

  Anger suffused her, broke through the wall of pain in her chest. "No!" she screamed. "No! I will not have his child. Why should Tron be the one? I do not want anything of Tron in my body, in my child."

  "All children are the Mother's," Menta reminded her gently. "That it why She fears this knowledge, because some men will speak of a child as theirs, think that they, not the Mother, have given life. Then they will think they do not need the Mother. They will want Her power for themselves."

  Zena did not wait to hear more. Ignoring Lune's restraining arm, she fled from the cave. She did not want to hear of the Mother, who had allowed this terrible thing to happen. She did not want to hear anything, except that the Mother would somehow take this burden from her.

  Menta and Lune watched her go, their faces drawn with sorrow. "It does not seem fair," Lune said. "Always, it is Zena who suffers."

  "Zena is strong," Menta replied somberly. "That is why the Mother chooses her. And perhaps through this challenge Zena will find a way to help us. Soon, all will have the knowledge, for it cannot be hidden forever. Most men will use it well, for to know that they also help to create new life will bring them closer to the Mother. But a few will not. These men will come to believe that they, not the Mother, own the child that comes from a mate’s womb, and will guard that mate jealously from other men. As time passes, they will even come to believe that they own the earth they walk upon, and all that grows upon it. Then, the suffering will begin, and it is women who will suffer most of all."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Tron closed his eyes and listened. He had found that if he pretended to sleep, the women talked as if he were not there. He had learned many things in this way. Still, there was much he did not know, though he had been in this place for almost three moons. At first, he had understood nothing, for the people who had found him had different words. But then, very slowly, their talk had begun to make sense. The children had helped, pointing out objects and people they had named, then testing Tron to see if he remembered. Tron had hidden his impatience at having to take lessons once again from children. He knew he had to learn the tribe's words if he wanted to understand the mystery involving Akat the women kept talking about. Besides, he liked the ways of this tribe, and he might want to stay among them.

  Zena's lessons had been useful after all. These people had accept
ed him easily, for he knew how to make his face pleasant whenever he wanted. No one seemed to guess that beneath the facade, anger still boiled within him at Zena, at Menta and the others in his tribe who had wronged him. He had begun to wonder, though, if it was necessary to hide his anger. Everyone here seemed to admire violence. The men fought with each other, and shouted at the women, even hit them sometimes, in front of all the others. The first time he had seen this behavior, Tron had been astonished. But no one appeared to mind except one very old woman, and the men paid no attention to her remonstrations.

  Still, he was wary of showing his true feelings until he knew more. The ways of this tribe were completely different than his own. Here, the man who was most strong and fierce, who was called Dagon, was clearly the leader. All the others listened carefully when he spoke and dared not disobey him. There was no talk of a wise one, no woman who could heal. These people did not even speak of the Mother, the Life-Giver. Tron had thought at first that they called Her Goddess, as those in his tribe sometimes did, but then he had realized they were instead speaking of one who was male. He was fierce, a good hunter, just as Dagon was fierce and a good hunter. The thought of a male god was strange to Tron, but he liked the idea, just as he liked the fact that the one who led the tribe was a man. Most appealing of all was the fact that the men, not the women, were in charge of Akat.

  It was lucky these people, not others, had found him after the lion had attacked. He would rather be dead than live again in a tribe like his own. To be alone, though, was even better. Many changes of the seasons, ten at least, he thought, had passed since he had left the others, and for all that time he had traveled by himself, with only the animals for company. At first, he had barely survived. Someone had wounded him badly, though he still did not remember who it was, and he had been terribly weak. But he had made traps for small animals, had taken birds and eggs. As soon as he was strong enough, he had headed north, following the herds. He liked the bleakness of the northern tundra, liked the challenge of trying to kill a big animal by himself. Often, he could not, but there were always the traps if he failed.

  He would have stayed alone but for the lion. For two full days, he had tracked a reindeer he had wounded. He was about to plunge his spear into its chest when the lion decided to claim it. After that, he remembered little until he had found himself lying in this hut, made of the skins and bones of animals. Dagon had told Tron they had rescued him only because he had battled the lion so fiercely, trying to defend his prize. The men had also admired his courage and his skill as a hunter, to take a reindeer by himself. Otherwise, they would have let the lion have him, for he was intruding on their territory. The meaning of this word, like many others, remained a mystery to Tron.

  The men returned from the hunt. Immediately, the women stopped their chattering and went to serve them with food and water. One woman did not move fast enough for Dagon. He grasped her roughly by the arm.

  "I am hungry, woman," he growled. "Remember that it is I who feed you. If you do not move faster, we will leave nothing for you."

  The woman did not speak, but scurried off as fast as she could. She was old, Tron saw, and walking was hard for her.

  Another woman, young and supple, came up to Dagon. To Tron's surprise, she sat down beside the fierce leader and took some of his food. Dagon did not object as Tron had expected, but instead put an affectionate arm around the girl.

  He looked teasingly at Tron. "This one you shall have, Tron, when you are strong enough. You will need strength to handle her. She comes from my loins, and were she a boy, would follow me, for there is fierceness in her. But she is not, and so you shall have her, for I have seen that you are willing even to fight a lion."

  Tron was confused. What could Dagon mean, that this girl had come from him? How could a man give life? He did not let his confusion show, but answered simply. He had discovered that if he said very little, the people here thought him wise and strong, and he could also hide all that he did not know.

  "I thank you, Dagon," he said. "That will be good."

  The other hunters, he noticed, did not look pleased at the fact that the girl, Veeta, would be given to him. Some of them glared at him openly. This, at least, he did understand, for he had witnessed the giving of a young woman twice already. Each man who had killed a big animal by himself was given a woman, as long as one was available. Some men had many women; others had only one, or none at all. To kill an animal alone took courage and skill.

  It was Dagon who gave the women. He asked the man which one he desired, and if Dagon was in agreement, the woman was given. Her wishes were ignored. One girl, hardly old enough for Akat, had sobbed bitterly, Tron remembered. Some of the women had tried to comfort her, but the men had laughed at her misery, saying she would soon learn to enjoy what a man could give her.

  "You may have to fight for this daughter of mine!" Dagon exclaimed, looking at the angry faces of the other men. He chuckled and cuffed the young woman lightly on the cheek.

  Tron's confusion deepened. Women, not men, had daughters. He did not respond but only stared at the biggest of the other men until he dropped his eyes. Dagon watched approvingly.

  "Get away from me now, Veeta," he said, cuffing her again. "You take too much of my meat. Go work with the other women, as you should."

  "I do not wish to," Veeta pouted, but she rose obediently. As she passed Tron, she gave him a quick look of unconcealed ardor that made him grow hard with desire. Until now, he had been too weak to think seriously of Akat, for the lion had wounded him badly. Veeta had changed that. He would have her soon, even if he had to fight the other men.

  The thought was exciting. Once a woman was given to a man, she had to obey him in all things, for he owned her. The idea had puzzled Tron at first, but he had come to understand that it meant the woman belonged to the man, as a spear did, or a fur, and he could do as he liked with her. Especially in Akat, she had to obey him, and he could force her if she refused to do as he asked.

  From the look she had given him, force would not be needed with Veeta, and Tron was a little disappointed. Compelling a woman to have Akat satisfied a deep urge within him. To take a woman completely by surprise was even more exciting. He had done this many times as he traveled. Whenever he stayed near a tribe, he had watched and waited until one of the women was alone. Then he had crept up on her from behind and put a hand across her mouth, so her screams would not be heard, before pushing her to the ground. Some women were too terrified to scream anyway, but others were fighters. He liked them best.

  Perhaps, when he was stronger, he would force one of the other women in Dagon's tribe. He had learned enough to know that while the women were not supposed to have Akat with any man except the one to whom they had been given, the men were admired for having Akat with many. A woman was beaten if she was discovered, but a man was seldom punished, even if he had taken another man's woman, or had used force. Tron grinned to himself. It was a strange system, but one that would suit him well.

  Dagon came to him a few days later and asked if he was strong enough to fight. Tron saw the other men watching him, and he stood immediately, spear in hand. But it was not these men Dagon wanted him to fight. It was men from another tribe, who were killing reindeer in the area where Dagon and his tribe hunted.

  This was the meaning of territory, Tron realized as he listened to the men speak of the battle to come. Part of the land around them seemed to belong to Dagon's tribe, just as a woman belonged to a man. If other men tried to hunt there, they must be killed.

  The fight was short and unexciting, for the other hunters spotted them and fled. Dagon plunged his spear into the chest of a man who had been wounded and could not run fast, but the others escaped. They chased them for a time, but then snow began to fall and Dagon signaled that they should return.

  Disappointed, the men began to boast of battles they had won in the past. Tron listened carefully, eager to understand these new ideas. Whenever they killed enough men from t
he other tribe, he gathered, they raided their dwelling place. Sometimes they killed the old people and any remaining men, but they did not kill the women. Instead, they forced Akat on them, then brought them back to join Dagon's tribe. There was always a need for new women, to be given to the hunters.

  The fighting, the stealing of women, appealed to Tron. But most appealing of all was the idea of territory. Always, he had believed the land belonged to the Mother, that She had given it to all to use freely. Now he saw that men, not the Mother, owned the land, just as they owned women. The thought gladdened his heart, even as his anger grew. Menta and Zena and the others had lied to him about this, as they had lied about all else. There was no power in this Mother they spoke of so fervently. He had always suspected this was true, but now he was certain. Here, She did not even exist. To Tron, that was the greatest puzzle of all. If there was no Mother, how was it that the clearing teemed with young ones? Where did they come from, if there was no Mother to give them life?

  Perhaps the god they spoke of was life-giver. But that seemed impossible. How could a male god give life? Only women could bear young. Akat was involved; that he knew from listening to the women. Tonight, Tron decided, he would get the answer. He would claim Veeta and mate with her. It would be easy enough to make her speak.

  As darkness fell, he grabbed Veeta's arm and tried to pull her into the hut where he slept. She did not submit as he had expected. Instead, she shrieked and called loudly for Dagon.

  "This stranger does not know how to proceed," she said angrily. "He cannot just drag me into a hut! No man can have a woman until she has been given. And I am your daughter, who deserves better treatment!"

  Dagon strode toward them. "If you were not a stranger, I would kill you for this," he shouted at Tron. "I, the leader of this tribe, will tell you when you may have Veeta. She is my daughter, and better than the other women."