by Jean M. Auel
Ayla remembered that she could count less than twelve years when she gave birth to Durc, and she couldn’t give him up then. She would rather have died than give him up. When she lost her milk, the women of the Clan had nursed Durc, but that didn’t mean she was any less his mother. She was sorry still that she had to leave him behind when she was forced out of the Clan. She had wanted to take him. It was only her fear about what would happen to him if something happened to her that persuaded her to leave her three-year son behind. It didn’t matter that she knew Uba would take care of him and love him as her own. It still hurt when she thought about him. She never got over him, and she didn’t want Lanoga to suffer that kind of pain.
“It isn’t nursing that makes a mother, Proleva. And it certainly isn’t age,” Ayla said. “Look at Janida. She’s not much older, but no one would dream of taking her baby away from her.”
“Janida has a mate, and a good one with some status, and her baby will be born to his hearth. He’ll always be responsible, and even if the mating doesn’t last, there are already several men who have made it known they would be willing to mate her. She has high status, she’s attractive, and she’s pregnant. I just hope Peridal realizes what a favored woman she is, his mother is already making trouble. She actually found them during their trial period and tried to get him to give up the mating.” Proleva stopped. Time enough later to tell Ayla about that. “But Lanoga is not Janida.”
“No, Lanoga is not a favored young woman, but she ought to be. You don’t spend nearly a year taking care of a baby and not grow to love her. Lorala is Lanoga’s baby now, not Tremeda’s. She may be young, but she has been a good mother,” Ayla said.
“Yes, of course she’s been a good mother. That’s just it. She’s a wonderful girl and she’ll be a wonderful mother someday,” Proleva said, “if she ever has the chance. But when she gets old enough to mate, what man will be willing to take her and a little sister, not as a second woman, but as a child he would have to be responsible for that wasn’t even born to his hearth? Lanoga has enough going against her, considering the hearth she and Lorala were born to. I’m afraid the only one willing to take her will be someone like Laramar, no matter who recommends her. I’d like to see her have a chance for a better life.”
Ayla was sure that Proleva was absolutely right, and it was obvious that she really cared about the girl and would do whatever she could to help her, but she knew how Lanoga would feel if she lost Lorala.
“Lanoga doesn’t have to worry about finding a mate,” Lanidar said.
Ayla and Proleva had almost forgotten he was still there. Jondalar was surprised, too. He had been listening to the debate between the two women and could see both sides.
“I am going to learn how to hunt, and I am going to learn how to be a Caller, and when I grow up, I am going to mate Lanoga and help her take care of Lorala, and all the rest of her brothers and sisters, if she wants. I already asked her, and she agreed. She’s the only girl I ever met who doesn’t care about my arm, and I don’t think her mother will care, either.”
Ayla and Proleva both gaped at Lanidar, then they looked at each other as though to be sure that they had heard the same thing, and that both of them were thinking the same thing. In fact, it wouldn’t be a bad match, especially if the idea really encouraged Lanidar to learn some skills to better himself. They were both decent children, and surprisingly grown-up for their ages. Of course, they were young, and they could easily change their minds, but on the other hand, who else would there be for either one?
“So don’t give Lanoga’s baby away to some other woman. I don’t like to see her crying,” Lanidar said.
“She really does love that child,” Ayla said, “and the Ninth Cave has been willing to help her. Why not just let things be the way they are?”
“What will I tell the woman who was going to take her?” Proleva said.
“Just tell her Lorala’s mother didn’t want to give her up. It’s true. Tremeda isn’t really her mother, Lanoga is. If that woman really wants a baby, she’ll get one, either one of her own or another baby that needs a mother, maybe even one who is younger. The Zelandonii have many Caves and a lot of people. Things are happening all the time,” Ayla said. “I’ve never seen things change so much.”
Nearly everyone from both the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii and the First Cave of the Lanzadonii came to the big celebration held jointly to celebrate the Matrimonials of the brother of the leader of one and the daughter of the hearth of the leader of the other, who were also related to each other. It turned out that two other people from the Ninth Cave had also mated at the same time to people from other Caves. Proleva learned about them and made sure they were also included. A young woman named Tishona had joined with Marsheval of the Fourteenth Cave, and she would be going to live with him. And another, somewhat older woman, Dynoda, had moved away and had a son, but she severed the knot from her former mate and formed a new relationship with Jacsoman of the Seventh Cave. They were moving back to the Ninth Cave. Dynoda’s mother was ill, and she wanted to be closer to her.
During the course of the day, other people came to offer their good wishes as well. Levela and Jondecam, and her mother, Velima, who was also Proleva’s mother, spent most of the day with them, which pleased Ayla and Jondalar, and Joplaya and Echozar. They all enjoyed each other’s company. Jondecam’s mother and uncle also came for a while.
Ayla and Jondalar were pleased to see Kimeran, who was now distantly related through his nephew’s mate, who was the sister of Jondalar’s brother’s mate. Ayla got lost in some of the convoluted relationships, but she was particularly pleased to see Jondecam’s mother, Zelandoni of the Second Cave. She had met the woman, but hadn’t realized who she was. For some reason, Ayla was particularly glad to meet a Zelandoni who had children, especially a son who was as friendly and confident as Jondecam.
Janida and Peridal also spent most of the day at the Ninth Cave, conspicuously without Peridal’s mother. They wanted to move away from the Twenty-ninth Cave and were talking to both Kimeran and Joharran, to see if either the Second Cave or the Ninth Cave would accept them. Jondalar was certain that one or the other would. The First had already spoken to the leaders and the Zelandoni of the Second about it. She felt it would be wise to separate the young couple from Peridal’s mother, at least for a while. The First had been quite angry with the woman for forcing herself on them during their trial period of isolation.
Toward evening as things started to quiet down, Marthona made tea for several relatives and friends who were still there. Proleva, Ayla, Joplaya, and Folara helped pass cups around. A young man, who had recently been accepted as an acolyte of the Zelandoni of the Fifth Cave, was also there, staying only because it was the first time that he was a part of such august company and couldn’t bear to leave. He was especially in awe of the First.
“I’m sure he’d never walk again if someone hadn’t been there who knew what to do,” said the acolyte. He had directed his comment to the company at large, but he was really trying to impress the great donier.
“I think you are entirely correct, Fourth Acolyte of Zelandoni of the Fifth. You are very perceptive,” the woman said. “The rest is up to the Great Mother now, and the young man’s powers of recovery.”
The young man swelled with pride that she had responded, hardly able to contain his pleasure at Zelandoni’s compliment. He was enjoying the fact that he was included in this informal conversation with the One Who Was First.
“Since you are an acolyte now, will you be taking a turn at watching Matagan? He is of your Cave, isn’t he?” the First said. “Of course, it’s difficult to stay up through the night, but he does need to have someone with him all the time, right now. I presume your Zelandoni has asked for your help. If not, you could volunteer. The Fifth would no doubt appreciate it.”
“Yes, of course I’ll take a turn,” he said, getting up. “Thank you for the tea. I must go now. I have my responsibilities,” he said, tryin
g to sound dignified. He squared his shoulders and pulled his face into a serious frown as he headed toward the main camp.
After the young acolyte had gone, several of those who were there finally gave in to the smile they had been struggling to keep from making. “You have made that young man very happy, Zelandoni,” Jondalar said. “He was almost glowing with pleasure. Do all the zelandonia hold you in such awe?”
“Only the young ones,” Zelandoni replied. “The way the rest argue with me, I sometimes wonder why they continue to name me First. Perhaps because I’m more portentous than they are,” she said, and smiled. She meant it as a pun on her rather portly size.
Jondalar smiled back, getting the joke. Marthona just gave her a meaningful glance with arched eyebrows. Ayla noticed the exchange and thought she understood, but wasn’t certain. The subtleties that came from deep understanding of someone known for a long time were still beyond her here.
“I think I’d rather have the arguing, though,” Zelandoni continued. “It can be a little trying to have every word you speak treated as if it came straight from the mouth of Doni Herself. It makes me feel that I have to be careful about everything I say.”
“Who does decide which one of the zelandonia is First Among Those Who Serve The Mother?” Jondalar asked. “Is it like the leader of a Cave? Does each Zelandoni just say who they think it should be? Does everyone have to agree, or most of them, or just certain ones?”
“The choices of the individual zelandonia are part of it, but it’s not as simple as that. Many things are considered. A gift for healing is one, and no one judges that more severely than zelandonia healers. A person may be able to cover up some ineptitude to people in general, but you can’t deceive someone who knows. But healing is not absolutely essential. There have been Firsts who had only a rudimentary knowledge of healing, but it was more than compensated for by ability in other areas. Some have natural gifts or other attributes.”
“We only hear about the First. Is there a Second, or a Third? Someone who can step in if something happens to the First? And is there a Last?” Jondalar asked, warming to the subject. Everyone was interested. Zelandoni wasn’t often so forthcoming about the inner workings of the zelandonia, but she was noticing Ayla’s interest and had her reasons for being so uncommonly candid.
“The order does not descend individually. There are ranks. It would be difficult for a Cave to accept a donier who was Last Among Those Who Serve, wouldn’t it? The acolytes are the lowest rank, of course, but there are ranks within the acolytes, too, sometimes depending on particular skills. You may have guessed that the young man who is the Fourth Acolyte of the Zelandoni of the Fifth Cave was just recently accepted. He is a novice, the lowest rank, but he has potential or he would not have been accepted. Some don’t want to go beyond acolyte. They don’t want to take on the full burden of responsibility, they only want to exercise their skill, and can do it best within the zelandonia.
“After the acolytes, the next lowest rank are the new doniers. Every Zelandoni must feel they have personally been called, and more than that, they must convince the rest of the zelandonia that it was a true calling. Some never get beyond the rank of acolyte, even though they may want to. Sometimes acolytes want to be a Zelandoni so much, they try to claim a false call or even feign one, but they are invariably rejected. One who has been through the ordeal knows the difference. It has made some acolytes—and former acolytes—very bitter.”
“What else is required to become a Zelandoni,” Jondalar pressed, “and what is especially needed to be the One Who Is First?” The rest were happy to let him do the asking. Though some of them, such as Marthona, who was once an acolyte herself, knew most of the requirements, few of the others who were there had ever had their questions to Zelandoni answered so directly.
“To become one of the zelandonia, one must memorize all the Histories and Elder Legends, and have a good comprehension of their meaning. One must know the counting words and how to use them, the coming of the seasons, the phases of the moon, and some things that are only for the zelandonia to know. But perhaps most important, one must be able to visit the world of the spirits,” Zelandoni said. “That is why one must truly be called. Most zelandonia know from the beginning who will be First, and who is most likely to be the next one. The first time one feels the call to venture into the spirit world, it may be revealed. Being First is also a calling, and not a calling every Zelandoni wants.”
“What is it like, the spirit world? Is it frightening? Are you afraid when you have to go there?” he asked next.
“Jondalar, no one can describe the spirit world to one who has never been there. And yes, it is frightening, especially the first time. It never entirely ceases to be frightening, but with meditation and preparation, it can be controlled, along with the knowledge that the zelandonia, and particularly the Cave, is there to help. Without the help of the people of one’s Cave, it could be difficult to return,” she explained.
“But if it’s frightening, why do you do it?” Jondalar asked.
“There is no way to refuse it.”
Ayla suddenly felt a chilling cold, and shuddered.
“Many try to fight it, and some succeed for a while,” the donier continued, “but in the end the Mother will have Her way. It is best to go prepared. The dangers are never kept from one who may think to venture in that direction, that is why the initiation can be so grueling. The test on the other side is even worse. You may feel that you are torn apart, scattered to the whirlwind and the dark unknown. Some go and never return to their body. Some who do return leave part of themselves behind, and they are never quite right afterward. But no one can go and remain unchanged.
“And once you get the call, you must accept it, and the duties and responsibilities along with it. I think that’s why so few of the zelandonia are mated. There are no restrictions on mating, or having children, but it is much like being a leader. It can be difficult to find a mate who is willing to live with someone who has so many demands made on them. Isn’t that right, Marthona?” Zelandoni asked.
“Yes, Zelandoni,” she answered, then she smiled at Dalanar before turning to her son. “Why do you think Dalanar and I severed the knot, Jondalar? We talked about it the day after your mating. It was more than his urge to travel—Willamar has that, too. In many ways, Dalanar and I were too much alike. He’s happy now that he’s leader of his own Cave—his own people, really—but it took him a while to understand that was what he really wanted. He fought the responsibility for a long time, but I think that was why he was drawn to me in the first place. Joconan had died and I was already leader when we mated. We were very happy at first. But he became restless. It was for the best that we parted. Jerika is the right woman for him. She is strong willed, and he needs a strong woman, but Dalanar is leader.” The two she mentioned looked at each other and smiled, then Dalanar reached for Jerika’s hand.
“Losaduna is the One Who Serves for the people who live on the other side of the glacier. He has a mate, and his mate has four children. She seems very happy,” Ayla interjected. She had been listening to Zelandoni with a fascination that was akin to fear.
“Losaduna is fortunate to have found a woman like her. Just as I was fortunate to find Willamar,” Marthona said. “I was very reluctant to mate again, but I’m glad he persisted.” She turned to smile at him. “I suppose that’s one reason I finally passed on the leadership. I was leader for many years with Willamar beside me, and we never had a problem over it, but I grew tired of the demands. I wanted some time to myself, and I wanted to have some time to share with Willamar. After Folara came along, I wanted to be a mother again. Joharran seemed to have the potential, so I started to prepare him, and when he was old enough, I was glad to pass the responsibility on to him. He is very much like Joconan, I’m sure he’s the son of Joconan’s spirit.” She smiled at her eldest son. “I still keep a hand in. Joharran often consults with me, though I think he does it for my sake, not his.”
“That’s not true, mother. I value your advice,” Joharran said.
“Did you love Dalanar very much, mother?” Jondalar asked. “You know there are songs and stories about your love.” He had heard them, but he’d often wondered, if it was really so strong, how could they have parted?
“Yes, I loved him, Jondalar. A small part of me still does. It is not easy to forget someone you have loved that much, and I’m glad we are still friends. I think we are better friends now than when we were mated.” She noticed her elder son. “I still love Joconan, too. His memory remains with me and reminds me of when I was a young woman and in love for the first time, even though it took him a while to decide what he wanted,” she added rather cryptically.
Jondalar remembered the story he had heard about his mother on his Journey. “You mean between you and Bodoa or both?” he asked.
“Bodoa! I haven’t heard that name in a long time,” Zelandoni said. “Isn’t she the foreign woman who was being trained by the zelandonia? From some eastern people, what were they called? Zar … Sard … something.”
“S’Armunai,” Jondalar said.
“That’s it. I was still young when she left, but it’s said she was quite skilled,” Zelandoni said.
“She is S’Armuna now. Ayla and I met her on our Journey. The S’Armunai Wolf Women captured me, and Ayla followed their trail and came after me. We were lucky to get away from them alive. If it hadn’t been for Wolf, I don’t think either one of us would be here. You can imagine how surprised I was to find someone among those people who not only knew how to speak Zelandonii, but knew my mother!”
“What happened?” several people asked.
Jondalar briefly related the story of the cruel woman Attaroa and the S’Armunai Camp she had perverted. “Although S’Armuna helped Attaroa in the beginning, she regretted it and finally decided to help her people and try to correct the problems Attaroa caused.” Everyone shook their heads in wonder.