The Earth's Children Series 6-Book Bundle

by Jean M. Auel

  “Then you have a powerful shaman,” Tulie said.

  “Or an evil one,” Crozie added.

  “Is that true, Mamut?” Ayla asked. Latie looked surprised and puzzled, and even Deegie, Tronie, and Fralie turned to Mamut with interest.

  The old man gathered his thoughts, trying to choose his answer carefully. “We are only Her children,” he began. “It is difficult for us to know why Mut, the Great Mother, selects some of us for special purposes. We only know that She has Her reasons. Perhaps there are times when She has need for someone of exceptional power. Some people may be born with certain gifts. Others may be chosen later, but no one is chosen without Her knowledge.” Several eyes shifted toward Ayla, trying not to be conspicuous about it.

  “She is the Mother of all,” he continued. “No one can know Her completely, in all Her faces. That’s why the face of the Mother is unknown on the figures that represent Her.” Mamut turned to the oldest woman of the Camp. “What is evil, Crozie?”

  “Evil is malicious harm. Evil is death,” the old woman replied with conviction.

  “The Mother is all, Crozie. The face of Mut is the birth of spring, the bounty of summer, but it is also the little death of winter. Hers is the power of life, but the other face of life is death. What is death but return to Her to be reborn? Is death evil? Without death, there can be no life. Is evil malicious harm? Perhaps, but even those who seem to work evil, do so for Her reasons. Evil is a force She controls, a means to accomplish Her purposes; it is only an unknown face of the Mother.”

  “But what happens when a male force steals the life force of a woman?” Latie asked. She didn’t want philosophies, she wanted to know.

  The Mamut looked at her speculatively. She was almost a woman, she had the right to be told. “She will die, Latie.”

  The girl shivered.

  “Even if it is stolen. Some may remain, enough for her to start a new life. The life force that resides in a woman is so powerful she may not know it was stolen until she is giving birth. When a woman dies in childbirth, it is always because a male spirit stole her life force before she was opened. That’s why it is not healthy to wait too long for the Womanhood ceremony. If the Mother had made you ready last fall, I would have talked to Nezzie about arranging a gathering of a few Camps to have a ceremony so you would not go through the winter unprotected, even though it means you would have missed the excitement of the celebration at the Summer Meeting.”

  “I’m glad I won’t have to miss it, but …” Latie paused, still more concerned about life force than celebration, “does a woman always die?”

  “No, sometimes she struggles to keep her life force, and if it is powerful, she may not only keep it, but the male force as well, or a part of it. Then she has the power of both in one body.”

  “Those are the ones who become powerful shamans,” Tulie volunteered.

  Mamut nodded. “Often, that is true. In order to learn how to use the power of both female and male, many people turn to the Mammoth Hearth for guidance, and many of those are called to Serve Her. They are often very good Healers, or Travelers in the Mother’s underworld.”

  “What about the male spirit that does steal the life force?” Fralie asked, putting her new baby over her shoulder and patting gently. She knew it was a question her mother wanted to ask.

  “That’s the one who is evil,” Crozie said.

  “No,” Mamut said, shaking his head. “That is not true. The male force is just attracted to a woman’s life force. It cannot help itself, and men don’t usually know that their male force has taken a young woman’s life force until they discover they are not attracted to women, but prefer the company of other men. Young men are vulnerable then. They don’t want to be different, they don’t want anyone to know their male spirit may have harmed some woman. They often feel great shame, and rather than come to the Mammoth Hearth, they try to hide it.”

  “But there are evil ones among them with great power,” Crozie said. “Power to destroy an entire Camp.”

  “The force of male and female in one body is very powerful. Without guidance, it can become perverted and malicious, and may want to cause illness and misfortune, even death. Even without such power, a person wishing misfortune on another can cause it to happen. With it, the results are almost inevitable, but with proper guidance, a man with both forces can become just as powerful a shaman as a woman with both forces, and is often more careful to use it only for good.”

  “What if a person like that doesn’t want to be a shaman?” Ayla asked. She may have been born with her “gifts” but she still had feelings of being pushed into something she wasn’t sure she wanted.

  “They don’t have to,” Mamut said. “But it’s easier for them to find companionship, others like themselves, from among Those Who Serve the Mother.”

  “Do you remember those Sungaea travelers we met many years ago, Mamut?” Nezzie asked. “I was young then, but wasn’t there some confusion about one of their hearths?”

  “Yes, I remember, now that you mention it. We were just returning from the Summer Meeting, several Camps still traveling together when we met them. No one was quite sure what to expect, there had been some raiding, but finally we had a friendship fire with them. Some Mamutoi women got upset because one Sungaea man wanted to join them in their ‘mother’s place.’ It took a lot of explaining to make it understood that the hearth which we thought consisted of one woman and her two co-mates was really one man and his two co-mates, except that one of them was a woman, and one of them was a man. The Sungaea referred to him as ‘she.’ He was bearded, but dressed in women’s clothes, and though he had no breasts, he was ‘mother’ to one of the children. He certainly acted like the child’s mother. I’m not sure if the child had been given to him by the woman of that hearth, or by another woman, but I was told that he experienced all the symptoms of pregnancy, and the pain of delivery.”

  “He must have wanted to be a woman very much,” Nezzie commented. “Maybe he didn’t steal some woman’s life force. Maybe he was born in the wrong body. That can happen, too.”

  “But did he have stomachaches every moon time?” Deegie asked. “There’s the test of a woman.” Everyone laughed.

  “Do you have moon time stomachaches, Deegie? I can give you something to help, if you want,” Ayla said.

  “I may ask, next time.”

  “Once you have a child, it won’t be so bad, Deegie,” Tronie said.

  “And when you’re carrying, you don’t have to worry about absorbent packing, and disposing of it properly,” Fralie said. “But you do look forward to having them,” she added, smiling at the sleeping face of her small but healthy daughter, and wiping away a dribble of milk from the corner of her mouth. She looked up at Ayla, suddenly curious. “What did you use when you were … younger?”

  “Soft leather straps. They work well, especially if you need to travel, but sometimes I folded them over, or stuffed them with mouflon wool, or fur, or even bird down. Sometimes soft fluff from plants, crushed together. Never with dried mammoth dung, before, but it works, too.”

  Mamut had the ability to efface his presence and fade in the background when he chose, so that the women forgot he was there and spoke freely in a way they would never have done if another man had been there. Ayla was aware of him, however, and observed him quietly observing them. Finally, when the conversation slowed down, he spoke to Latie again.

  “Some time soon, you will want to find a place for your personal communion with Mut. Pay attention to your dreams. They will help you find the right place. Before you visit your personal shrine, you will have to fast, and purify yourself, always acknowledge the four directions and the underworld and sky, and make offerings and sacrifices to Her, particularly if you want Her help, or a blessing from Her. It’s especially important when the time comes that you want to have a child, Latie, or when you learn you are going to have one. Then you must go to your personal shrine and burn a sacrifice to Her, a gift that will
go up to Her in the smoke.”

  “How will I know what to give Her?” Latie asked.

  “It could be something you find or something you make. You will know if it feels right. You will always know.”

  “When you want a special man, you can ask Her, too,” Deegie said, with a conspiratorial smile. “I can’t tell you how many times I asked for Branag.”

  Ayla glanced at Deegie, and resolved to find out more about personal shrines.

  “There is so much to learn!” Latie said.

  “Your mother can help you, and Tulie, too,” Mamut said.

  “Nezzie has asked me and I’ve agreed to be a Watching Woman this year, Latie,” Tulie mentioned.

  “Oh, Tulie! I’m so glad,” Latie said. “Then I won’t feel so alone.”

  “Well,” the headwoman said, smiling at the girl’s eager welcome, “it’s not every year that the Lion Camp has a new woman.”

  Latie frowned with concentration, then asked in a soft voice, “Tulie, what is it like? In the tent, I mean. That night.”

  Tulie looked at Nezzie, and smiled. “Are you a little worried about it?”

  “Yes, a little.”

  “Don’t worry. It will all be explained to you, you’ll know what to expect.”

  “Is it anything like the way Druwez and I played when we were children? He would bounce on me so hard … I think he was trying to be Talut.”

  “Not really, Latie. Those were children’s games, you were only playing, trying to be grown up. You were both very young then, too young.”

  “That’s true, we were very young,” Latie said, feeling very much older now. “Those are games for little children. We stopped playing like that a long time ago. In fact, we don’t play anything any more. Lately, neither Danug nor Druwez will even talk to me very much.”

  “They will want to talk to you,” Tulie said. “I am sure of it, but remember, you must not talk to them very much, now, and not ever be alone with them.”

  Ayla reached for the large waterbag that was hanging by a leather strap from a peg pounded into one of the supporting posts. It was made from the stomach of a giant deer, a megaceros, which had been cured to maintain its naturally watertight character. It was filled through the lower opening, which was folded over and closed off. A short piece of a foreleg bone with a natural hollow in the middle had been grooved all the way around near one end. To form a pouring spout, the skin of the opening of the deer stomach was tied to the bone by wrapping a cord tightly around it at the groove.

  Ayla pulled out the stopper—a thin strip of leather that had been passed up through the hollow and knotted in one place several times—poured water into the watertight basket she used for making her special morning tea, and pushed the leather knot back into the pouring spout to close it off. The red-hot cooking stone sputtered as she dropped it into the water. She stirred it around a few times to draw off as much heat from the stone as possible, then fished it out with two flat sticks, and put it back in the fire. With the damp sticks, she picked up another hot stone and dropped it into the water. When the water was simmering, she dropped in a measured amount of a mixture of dried leaves, roots, and particularly the fine vinelike stems of golden thread and left it to steep.

  She had been especially careful to remember to take Iza’s secret medicine. She hoped the powerful magic would work for her as well as it had worked for Iza for so many years. She did not want a baby now. She was too unsure.

  After she dressed, she poured the tisane into her personal drinking cup, then sat down on a mat near the fire and tasted the strong-tasting, rather bitter drink. She had grown accustomed to the taste in the morning. This was her time for waking up, and it was part of her morning routine. As she sipped, she mused about the activities that would take place that day. This was it, the auspicious day everyone had been looking forward to, the day of Spring Festival.

  The happiest event, to her, would be the naming of Fralie’s baby. The tiny infant had grown and thrived, and no longer had to be held next to her mother’s breast every moment. She was strong enough to cry now, and could sleep alone during the day, though Fralie rather liked keeping her close and often used the carrier out of preference. The Hearth of the Crane was much happier these days, not only because they shared the joy of the baby, but because Frebec and Crozie were learning they could live without arguing every moment. Not that there weren’t still problems, but they were coping better, and Fralie herself was taking a more active role in trying to mediate.

  Ayla was thinking about Fralie’s baby when she looked up and saw Ranec watching her. This was also the day he wanted to announce their Promise, and with a jolt, she remembered that Jondalar had told her he was leaving. Suddenly she found herself recalling that terrible night when Iza died.

  “You are not Clan, Ayla,” Iza had told her. “You were born to the Others, you belong with them. Go north, Ayla. Find your own people. Find your own mate.”

  Find your own mate … she thought. Once she thought Jondalar would be her mate, but he was leaving, going to his home without her. Jondalar didn’t want her…

  But Ranec did. She wasn’t getting younger. If she was ever going to have a baby, she should be starting one soon. She took a sip of Izas medicine, and swirled the last of the liquid and the dregs in the cup. If she stopped taking Iza’s medicine, and shared Pleasures with Ranec, would that start a baby inside her? She could try it and find out. Maybe she should join with Ranec. Settle with him, have the children of his hearth. Would they be beautiful dark babies with dark eyes and tight curly hair? Or would they be light like her? Maybe both.

  If she stayed here, joined with Ranec, she wouldn’t be so far from the Clan. She would be able to go and get Durc and bring him back. Ranec was good with Rydag, he might not mind having a mixed child at his hearth. Maybe she could formally adopt Durc, make him a Mamutoi.

  The thought that it might really be possible to get her son filled her with longing. Maybe it was just as well that Jondalar was leaving without her. If she left with him, she would never see her son again. But if he left without her, she would never see Jondalar again.

  The choice had been made for her. She would stay. She would join with Ranec. She tried to think about all the positive elements, to convince herself that it would be better to stay. Ranec was a good man, and he loved her and wanted her. And she did like him. It wouldn’t be so terrible to live with him. She could have babies. She could find Durc and bring him to live with them. A good man, her own people, and she would have her son again. That was more than she ever dreamed possible at one time. What more could she ask for? Yes, what more, if Jondalar was leaving.

  I’ll tell him, she thought. I’ll tell Ranec he can announce our Promise today. But as she got up and walked toward the Hearth of the Fox, her mind was filled with only one thought. Jondalar was leaving without her. She would never see Jondalar again. Even as the realization came to her, she felt the crushing weight, and closed her eyes to fight back her grief.

  “Talut! Nezzie!” Ranec ran out of the lodge looking for the headman and his adoptive mother. When he saw them, he was so excited he could hardly speak. “She agreed! Ayla agreed! The Promise, we’re going to do it! Ayla and me!”

  He didn’t even see Jondalar, and if he had, it wouldn’t have mattered. Ranec couldn’t think of anything except that the woman he loved, the woman he wanted more than anyone in the world, had agreed to be his. But Nezzie saw Jondalar, saw him blanch, saw him grab the curved mammoth tusk of the archway for support, and saw the pain on his face. Finally he let go and walked down toward the river, and a fleeting worry crossed her thoughts. The river was swollen and full. It would be easy to swim out and get swept away.

  “Mother, I don’t know what to wear today. I can’t make up my mind,” Latie wailed, nervous about the first ceremony that would acknowledge her elevated status.

  “Let’s take a look,” Nezzie said, casting a last glance toward the river. Jondalar was not in sight.

 
28

  Jondalar spent the entire morning walking along the river, his mind in a turmoil, hearing over and over again Ranec’s joyful words. Ayla had agreed. They would announce their Promise at the ceremony that evening. He kept telling himself that he had expected it all along, but faced with it, he realized he hadn’t. It had come as a much bigger shock than he ever imagined it would. Like Thonolan after he lost Jetamio, he wanted to die.

  Nezzie had had some basis for her fears. Jondalar had not walked down toward the river for any particular purpose. It just happened to be the direction he took, but once he reached the turbulent watercourse, he found it strangely compelling. It seemed to offer peace, relief from pain and sorrow and confusion, but he only stared at it. Something equally compelling held him back. Unlike Jetamio, Ayla was not dead, and as long as she was alive a small fire of hope could burn, but more than that, he feared for her safety.

  He found a secluded area screened by brush and small trees overlooking the river, and tried to prepare for the ordeal of the evening’s festivities, which would include the Promise Ceremony. He told himself it wasn’t as though she was actually joining-with Ranec this evening. She was only Promising to establish a hearth with him sometime in the future, and he had made a promise, too. Jondalar had told Mamut he would stay until after the Spring Festival, but it wasn’t the promise that held him. Though he had no idea what it could be, or what he might be able to do, he could not leave knowing that Ayla faced some unknown danger even if it meant watching her Promise to Ranec. If Mamut, who knew the ways of the spirits, sensed some danger to her, Jondalar could only expect the worst.

  * * *

  Around noon, Ayla told Mamut that she was going to begin her preparations for the root ceremony. They had gone over the details several times until she felt reasonably sure that she hadn’t forgotten anything important. She gathered up clean clothing, a soft, absorbent, buckskin deer hide, and several other things, but instead of leaving through the annex, she headed toward the cooking hearth on her way out. She both wanted to see Jondalar, and hoped she wouldn’t, and was disappointed and relieved to find only Wymez at the toolmaking area. He said he hadn’t seen Jondalar since early that morning, but was happy to give her the small nodule of flint she wanted.