The Earth's Children Series 6-Book Bundle

by Jean M. Auel

  She looked at him in the light of the fire, then looked down. There could be no untruths … no lying between them. Not that she could deliberately say something that wasn’t true, anyway, but not even the understood “refraining from speaking” that the Clan allowed for the sake of privacy, could come between them now. Even at the risk of losing him if she told him the truth, she had to tell him and try to find out what was troubling him. She looked directly at him then, trying to find words to begin.

  “I did not know your thoughts, Jondalar, but I could guess them. Weren’t we just talking about the unspoken signs that are made by people who speak with words? You make them, too, you know, and I … I look for them, and many times I know what they mean. Maybe because I love you so much and want to know you, I pay attention to you all the time.” She looked away for a moment, and added, “That’s what women of the Clan are trained to do.”

  She looked at him. There was some relief in his expression, and curiosity, as she continued. “It’s not just you. I wasn’t raised with … my kind of people, and I’m used to seeing meaning in the signs people make. It’s helped me to learn about people I meet, though it was very confusing at first because people who talk with words often say one thing, but their unspoken signs mean something else. When I finally learned that, I began to understand more than the words people said. That’s why Crozie wouldn’t wager with me anymore when we played the Knucklebone games. I always knew which of her hands she was holding the marked bone in by the way she held them.”

  “I wondered about that. She was considered very good at the game.”

  “She was.”

  “But how did you know … how could you know I was thinking about Zolena? She’s Zelandoni now. That’s usually how I think of her, not the name she had when she was young.”

  “I was watching you, and your eyes were saying that you loved me, and that you were happy with me, and I was feeling wonderful. But when you talked about wanting to learn certain things, for a moment, you didn’t see me. It was like you were looking far away. You told me about Zolena before, about the woman who taught you … your gift … the way you can make a woman feel. We had just been talking about that, too, so I knew that’s who you must have been thinking about.”

  “Ayla, that’s remarkable!” he said with a big, relieved grin. “Remind me never to try to keep a secret from you. Maybe you can’t take thoughts from someone’s head, but you can certainly do the next thing to it.”

  “There is something else you should know, though,” she said.

  Jondalar’s frown returned. “What?”

  “Sometimes I think I may have … some kind of Gift. Something happened to me when I was at the Clan Gathering, the time I went with Brun’s clan, when Durc was a baby. I did something I wasn’t supposed to. I didn’t mean to, but I drank the liquid I made for the mog-urs, and then happened to find them in the cave. I wasn’t looking for them. I don’t even know how I got in that cave. They were …” She got a chill and couldn’t finish. “Something happened to me. I got lost in the darkness. Not in the cave, the darkness inside. I thought I was going to die, but Creb helped me. He put his thoughts inside my head …”

  “He what?”

  “I don’t know how else to explain it. He put his thoughts inside my head, and ever since then … sometimes … it’s like he changed something in me. Sometimes I think I might have some kind of … Gift. Things happen that I don’t understand, and can’t explain. I think Mamut knew.”

  Jondalar was quiet for a while. “So he was right to adopt you to the Mammoth Hearth, then, for more than just your healing skills.”

  She nodded. “Maybe. I think so.”

  “But you didn’t know my thoughts just now?”

  “No. The Gift is not like that, exactly. It’s more like going with Mamut when he Searched. Or, like going to deep places, and far places.”

  “Spirit worlds?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Jondalar looked into the air over her head, considering the implications. Then he shook his head, looked at her with a grim smile. “I think it must be the Mother’s joke on me,” he said. “The first woman I loved was called to Serve Her, and I didn’t think I’d ever love again. And now when I have found a woman to love, she turns out to be destined to Serve Her. Will I lose you, too?”

  “Why should you lose me? I don’t know if I’m destined to Serve Her. I don’t want to Serve anyone. I just want to be with you, and share your hearth, and have your babies,” Ayla objected vociferously.

  “Have my babies?” Jondalar said, surprised at her choice of words. “How can you have my babies? I won’t have babies, men don’t have children. The Great Mother gives children to women. She may use a man’s spirit to create them, but they’re not his. Except to provide for, when his mate has them. Then they are the children of his hearth.”

  Ayla had talked about it before, about men starting the new life growing inside a woman, but he hadn’t fully realized, then, that she truly was a daughter of the Mammoth Hearth. That she could visit spirit worlds, and might be destined to Serve Doni. Maybe she did know something.

  “You can call my babies children of your hearth, Jondalar. I want my babies to be the children of your hearth. I just want to be with you, always.”

  “I want that, too, Ayla. I wanted you, and your children, even before I met you. I just didn’t know I would find you. I only hope the Mother doesn’t start any growing inside you until we get back.”

  “I know, Jondalar,” Ayla said. “I would rather wait, too.”

  Ayla took their cups and rinsed them out, then finished her preparations for an early start, while Jondalar packed everything except their sleeping furs. They cuddled together, pleasantly tired. The Zelandonii man watched the woman beside him breathing quietly, but sleep eluded him.

  My children, he was thinking. Ayla said her babies would be my children. Were we making life begin when we shared Pleasures today? If any new life started from that, then it would have to be very special, because those Pleasures were … better than any … ever …

  Why were they better? It isn’t as though I never did any of those things before, but with Ayla, it’s different … I never get tired of her … she makes me want her more and more … just thinking about her makes me want her again … and she thinks I know how to Pleasure her …

  But what if she gets pregnant? She hasn’t yet … maybe she can’t. Some women can’t have children. But she did have a son. Could it be me?

  I lived with Serenio for a long time. She didn’t get pregnant all the time I was there, and she had a child before. I might have stayed with the Sharamudoi if she’d had children … I think. Just before I left, she said she thought she might be pregnant. Why didn’t I stay? She said she didn’t want to be mated to me, even though she loved me, because I didn’t love her the same way. She said I loved my brother more than any woman. But I did care for her, maybe not the way I love Ayla, but if I had really wanted to, I think she would have mated me. And I knew it then. Did I use it as an excuse to leave? Why did I leave? Because Thonolan left and I was worried about him? Is that the only reason?

  If Serenio was pregnant when I left, if she had another child, would it have been started from the essence of my manhood? Would it be … my child? That’s what Ayla would say. No, that’s not possible. Men don’t have children, unless the Great Mother uses a man’s spirit to make one. Of my spirit, then?

  When we get there, at least I’ll know if she had a baby. How would Ayla feel about it, if Serenio has a child that might somehow be a part of me? I wonder what Serenio will think when she sees Ayla? And what will Ayla think of her?

  13

  Ayla was eager to be up and moving the next morning, though it was no less sultry than it had been the day before. As she struck sparks with flint from her firestone, she wished she didn’t have to bother with a fire. The food she had set by the night before and some water would have been enough for their morning meal, and thinking ab
out the Pleasures she and Jondalar had shared, she wished she could forget about Iza’s magic medicine. If she didn’t drink her special tea, maybe she could find out if they had started a baby. But Jondalar got so upset at the idea of her getting pregnant on this Journey, that she had to drink the tea.

  The young woman didn’t know how the medicine worked. She just knew that if she drank a couple of bitter swallows of a strong decoction of golden thread every morning until her moon time, and a small bowl of the liquid from boiled antelope sage root each day that she was bleeding, she didn’t get pregnant.

  It would not be so hard to take care of a baby while they were traveling, but she didn’t want to be alone when she gave birth. She didn’t know if she would have lived through Durc’s birth if Iza hadn’t been there.

  Ayla slapped a mosquito on her arm, then checked her supply of herbs while the water was heating. She had enough of the ingredients of her morning tea to last a while, which was just as well, since she had not noticed any of those plants growing around the marsh. They liked higher elevations and drier conditions. Checking the pouches and packages within her worn otter-skin medicine bag, she decided she had adequate quantities of most of the medicinal herbs that she needed in case of emergency, though she would have liked to replace some of last year’s harvest with fresher plants. Fortunately she hadn’t had much occasion to use her healing herbs so far.

  Shortly after they started traveling west again, they came to a fairly large, fast stream. As Jondalar unfastened the pack baskets that hung down quite low on Racer’s flanks, and loaded them into the bowl boat mounted on the travois, he took the time to study the rivers. The small river joined the Great Mother at a sharp angle, from upstream.

  “Ayla, do you notice how this tributary comes into the Mother? It just goes straight in and flows downstream without even spreading out. I think this is the cause of that fast current we got caught in yesterday.”

  “I think you are right,” she said, seeing what he meant. Then she smiled at the man. “You like to know the reasons for things, don’t you?”

  “Well, water doesn’t suddenly start running fast for no reason. I thought there had to be an explanation.”

  “You found it,” she said.

  Ayla thought Jondalar seemed to be in a particularly good mood as they continued on after crossing the river, and that made her happy. Wolf was staying with them rather than wandering off and that pleased her, too. Even the horses seemed more spirited. The rest had been good for them. She was feeling alert and rested as well and, perhaps because she had just checked her medicines, she was particularly aware of the details of the plant and animal life of the great river mouth and the adjacent grassland they were traveling through. Though it was subtle, she noticed slight changes.

  Birds were still the dominant form of wildlife around them, with those of the heron family most prevalent, but the abundance of other fowl was only less by comparison. Large flocks of pelicans and beautiful mute swans flew overhead, and many kinds of raptors, including black kites and white-tailed eagles, honey buzzards, and hawklike hobbies. She saw greater numbers of small birds hopping, flying, singing, and flashing their brilliant colors: nightingales and warblers, blackcaps, whitethroats, red-breasted flycatchers, golden orioles, and many other varieties.

  Little bitterns were common in the delta, but the elusive, well-camouflaged marsh birds were heard more often than seen. They sang their characteristic, rather hollow, grunting notes all day, and more intensely with the coming of evening. But when anyone approached, they held their long beaks straight up and blended so well into the reeds among which they nested that they seemed to disappear. She saw many flying over the waters hunting for fish, however. Bitterns were quite distinctive in flight. Their coverts—the small feathers along the front of the wings and just over the base of the tail, which covered the quill ends of the larger flight feathers—were quite pale, and presented a strong contrast to their dark wings and back.

  But the marshlands also accommodated a surprising number of animals that required a variety of different environments: roe deer and wild boars in the woods; hares, giant hamsters, and giant deer on the fringes, for example. As they rode, they noticed many creatures they hadn’t seen for a while and pointed them out to each other: saiga antelope racing past plodding aurochs; a small tabby-striped wildcat stalking a bird and watched by a spotted leopard in a tree; a family of foxes with their kits; a couple of fat badgers; and some unusual polecats with white, yellow, and brown marbled coats. They saw otters in the water, and minks, along with their favorite food, muskrats.

  And there were insects. The large yellow dragonflies winging past at great speed, and delicate damselflies in glowing blues and greens decorating the drab flower spikes of plantains were the beautiful exceptions to the irritating swarms that suddenly appeared. It seemed to happen in one day, though the ample moisture and warmth in the sluggish side streams and fetid pools had been nursing the tiny eggs all along. The first clouds of small gnats had appeared in the morning, hanging over the water, but the dry grassland nearby was still free of them, and they were forgotten.

  By evening it was impossible to forget them. The gnats burrowed into the heavy, sweat-soaked coats of the horses, buzzed around their eyes, and crept into their mouths and nostrils. The wolf fared little better. The poor animals were beside themselves with agony from the millions of mites. The annoying insects even got into the hair of the humans, and both Ayla and Jondalar found themselves spitting and rubbing their eyes to get rid of the tiny beasts as they rode. The swarms of gnats were thicker closer to the delta, and they began to wonder where they would camp for the night.

  Jondalar spied a grassy hill on their right, and he thought the elevation might give him a broader view. They rode to the top of the rise and looked down at the sparkling water of an oxbow lake. It lacked the lush growth of the delta—and the stagnant pools that fostered the emerging imagoes—but a few trees and some brush lined the edges, bracketing a wide, inviting beach.

  Wolf started down at a run, and the horses followed with no urging. It was all the woman and man could do to stop them long enough to lift off the pack baskets and unhitch Whinney’s travois. They all splashed into the clear water in a rush that was slowed only by the resistance of the water. Even nervous Wolf, who disliked crossing rivers, showed no hesitation as he paddled around in the lake.

  “Do you think he’s finally starting to like water?” Ayla asked.

  “I hope so. We have many more rivers to cross.”

  The horses dipped their heads to drink, snorted and blew water out of their noses and mouths, and then went back to the shallows. They dropped down on the muddy bank to roll and scratch themselves, and Ayla couldn’t help laughing out loud at their grimacing faces and their eyes rolling and flashing in sheer delight. When they got up they were coated with mud, but when it dried, sweat, dead skin, insect eggs, and other causes of itching fell away with the dust.

  They camped on the edge of the lake and started out early the next day. By evening they wished they could find another campsite as pleasant. A wave of mosquitoes followed the hatching of the gnats, raising red itching bumps that forced Ayla and Jondalar to don protective, and heavier, clothing, though it felt uncomfortably warm after being accustomed to the bare minimum. Neither of them was quite sure when the flies appeared. There had always been a few horseflies around, but now it was the smaller biting flies that suddenly increased. Even though it was a warm evening, they crawled into their sleeping furs early, just to escape the flying hordes.

  They did not break camp until late morning the next day, not until after Ayla had searched for herbs that could be used to soothe their bites and to make insect repellents. She found brownwort, with its loose spike of strangely shaped brown flowers, in a damp and shady place near the water, and she collected the whole plants to make into a wash, for their skin-healing and itch-relieving properties. When she saw the large leaves of plantain she picked them to add to the s
olution; they were excellent for healing anything from bites to boils, even severe ulcers and wounds. From farther out on the steppes where it was drier, she gathered wormwood flowers to add as a general antidote for poisons and toxic reactions.

  She was quite pleased to find bright yellow marigolds for their antiseptic and quick-healing vitues, to take the sting out of bites, and because they were so effective in keeping insects away when a strong solution was splashed on. And growing at the sunny edge of the woods, she found wild marjoram, which was not only a good insect repellent when made into an infusion for an external wash, but drinking it as a tea gave a person’s sweat a spicy odor that gnats, fleas, and most flies found distasteful. She even tried to get the horses and Wolf to drink some, though she wasn’t sure how successful she was.

  Jondalar watched her preparations, asking her questions and listening to her explanations with interest. When his irritating bites were relieved and he was feeling better, it occurred to him how lucky he was to be traveling with someone who could do something about insects. He would have just had to put up with them if he were alone.

  By midmorning they were on their way again, and the changes Ayla had noticed before increased dramatically. They were seeing less marsh and more water, with fewer islands. The northern arm of the delta was losing its network of meandering waterways and all becoming one. Then, with little warning, the northern and one of the middle arms of the great river delta came together, doubling the size of the channel, and creating an enormous body of running water. A short distance beyond, the river increased again as the southern arm, which had joined with the other main channel, combined with the rest, bringing together all four arms to form a single deep channel.