by Jean M. Auel
When Willamar approached, they greeted each other with a quick touching of right cheeks. By now Ayla had learned that it was a customary informal greeting between family members or very close friends.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t go with you to see the horses, Ayla,” Folara said as they greeted each other the same way.
“There’s time for you to get to know the horses,” she said, then touched Marthona’s cheek with hers. The greeting with Jondalar was similar, but more lingering and closer. More like an embrace.
“I have to go back and help Zelandoni,” Ayla said, “but I was a little concerned about Wolf. I’m glad he returned here. It means he feels that this is his home, even if I’m not here.”
“How is Bologan?” Marthona asked.
“He is awake and able to talk, finally. I just came to tell Joharran.” Ayla wondered if she should mention her concerns about Tremeda’s baby. She was a stranger still, and maybe it wasn’t appropriate for her to bring it up. It could be construed as criticism of the Ninth Cave, but nobody else seemed to know about the situation, and if she didn’t say something, who would? “I talked to Proleva about another thing that bothers me,” she said.
There were looks of interest from Jondalar’s family. “What?” Marthona asked.
“Did you know that Tremeda’s milk has dried up? She hasn’t been home since Shevonar’s burial, and she left the baby and the rest of her children for Lanoga to care for and feed. That girl can count only ten years, she can’t nurse. All that baby is eating is mashed-up roots. She needs milk. How can a baby grow right without milk? And where is Laramar? Doesn’t he care at all?” Ayla said in a rush, blurting it all out at once.
Jondalar glanced around at everyone. Folara was aghast; Willamar looked a little stunned; and Marthona was caught off guard, which didn’t please her at all. Jondalar had to hold back a smile at the expressions on their faces. He wasn’t surprised at Ayla’s response to someone who needed help, but Laramar, Tremeda, and family had long been an embarrassment to the Ninth Cave. Most people didn’t talk about it, but Ayla had just brought it out into the open.
“Proleva said she didn’t know that Tremeda’s milk was gone,” Ayla continued. “She’s going to get the women together who can help, and we’re going to talk to them, explain what the baby needs, and ask them to share some of their milk. She thought the new mothers, and the ones who are almost ready to give birth, would be the ones to ask. This is such a big cave, there must be many women who could help feed that baby”
Jondalar knew they could, but he wondered if they would, and he speculated about whose idea it was; he thought he knew. He was aware that women sometimes nursed children other than their own, but usually it was a sister or a close friend whose infant they were willing to share their milk with.
“That sounds like an admirable idea,” Willamar said.
“If they’re willing,” Marthona said.
“Why wouldn’t they be?” Ayla said. “Zelandonii women wouldn’t let a baby the for lack of a little milk, would they? I did tell Lanoga I would go there tomorrow in the morning and teach her how to make more than mashed roots for the baby.”
“What can a baby eat besides milk?” Folara asked.
“Many things,” Ayla said. “If you scrape cooked meat, you get a soft substance that a baby can eat, and they can drink the liquid left after you boil meat. Nuts, ground to mush and mixed with some liquid, and grain that has been ground very fine and cooked, are good for them. Any vegetable can be cooked until it’s soft, and some fruit just needs to be mashed, though the seeds have to be strained out. I always poured fruit juice through bunched-up fresh cleavers. They’re full of prickles and stick together easily and catch the seeds. Babies can eat almost anything their mothers can eat, if it’s smooth and fine enough.”
“How do you know so much about food that babies can eat?” Folara asked.
Ayla stopped and flushed with dismay. She hadn’t expected the question. She knew babies were not limited to nursing because Iza had taught her how to make food for Uba when the woman got sick and lost her milk. But Ayla’s knowledge had expanded manyfold when Iza died, and Ayla was so devastated by the loss of the only mother she knew, her milk dried up. Though the other women in Brun’s small clan who were nursing all fed Durc, she’d had to supplement with regular food to keep him satisfied and healthy.
But she wasn’t ready to tell Jondalar’s family about her son just yet. They had recently said they wanted to accept her into the Zelandonii, make her one of them, even though they knew she had been raised by the people they called flatheads and considered to be animals. She would never forget the pain she had felt at Jondalar’s first reaction when she told him that she had a son who was a mixture of both, of mixed spirits. Because the spirit of one of those people he thought of as animals had mixed with hers to start a life growing inside her, he had looked at her as though she were a filthy hyena and called her an abomination. She was worse than the child, because she had produced him. Jondalar had learned more about the Clan since then, and he did not feel that way anymore, but what about his people, his family?
Her mind raced. What would his mother say if she knew that her son wanted to mate with a woman who was an abomination? Or Willamar, or Folara, or the rest of his family? Ayla looked at Jondalar, and though usually she could discern his feelings and know what he was thinking by interpreting his expression or his demeanor, this time she could not. She didn’t know what he would wish her to say.
She had been raised with the understanding that she had to answer a direct question with a truthful answer. Ayla had since learned that unlike the Clan, the Others, her kind of people, could say things that were not true. They even had a word for it. It was called a lie. For a moment, she actually thought about saying a lie, but what could she say? She was sure they would know it if she tried; she didn’t know how to lie. At most, she could refrain from mentioning, but it was hard not to reply when she was asked a direct question.
Ayla had always supposed that his people were bound to find out about Durc sometime. He was often in her thoughts, and she knew there would come a moment when she would forget or decide not to refrain from mentioning him. She didn’t want to avoid talking about Durc forever. He was her son. But this was not the time.
“I know about making baby food, Folara, because after Uba was born, Iza lost her milk early and she taught me how to make food that Uba could eat. A baby can eat anything its mother can eat if you make it soft and easy to swallow,” Ayla said. It was the truth, but it was not the whole truth. She refrained from mentioning her son.
“You do it like this, Lanoga,” Ayla said. “You pull the scraper across the meat. It gets the essence out and leaves the fibrous part behind. See? Now you try it.”
“What are you doing here?”
Ayla jumped with a start at the voice, then turned to face Laramar. “I’m showing Lanoga how to prepare some food that this baby can eat, since her mother has no more milk for her,” she said. She was sure she detected a look of surprise flit across his face. So he didn’t know, she thought.
“Why should you bother? I doubt that anyone else cares,” Laramar said.
Not even you, she thought, but held her tongue. “People care. They just didn’t know,” she said. “We only found out when Lanoga came and got Zelandoni because Bologan was hurt.”
“Bologan is hurt? What happened?”
This time there was concern in his voice. Proleva was right, Ayla thought. He does have some feelings for the eldest. “He drank your barma and …”
“Drank my barma! Where is he? I’ll teach that boy to get into my barma!” Laramar stormed.
“You don’t have to,” Ayla said. “Someone already did. He got in a fight, someone hit him hard, or he fell and hit his head on a rock. He was brought back home and left. Lanoga found him unconscious and went to find Zelandoni. That’s where he is now. He was badly hurt and lost a lot of blood, but with rest and care, he should be fine. B
ut he won’t tell Joharran who hit him.”
“I’ll take care of it, I know how to get it out of him,” Laramar said.
“I haven’t lived with this Cave very long, and it’s not my place to say, but I think you should talk to Joharran first. He’s very angry and wants to know who did it, and why. Bologan was lucky. It could have been much worse,” Ayla said.
“You’re right. It’s not your place to say,” Laramar said. “I’d rather take care of it myself.”
Ayla said nothing. There was nothing she could do about it, except tell Joharran. She turned to the girl. “Come on, Lanoga. Get Lorala and we’ll go,” she said, picking up her Mamutoi haversack.
“Where are you going?” Laramar said.
“We’re going to take a swim and clean up a little before we go to talk with some of the women who are nursing, or will be soon, and ask them if they will share some of their milk with Lorala,” Ayla said. “Do you know where Tremeda is? She should come to this meeting, too.”
“Isn’t she here?” Laramar said.
“No. She left the children with Lanoga, and hasn’t returned since she went to Shevonar’s burial,” Ayla said. “In case you’re interested, the rest of the children are with Ramara, Salova, and Proleva right now.” It was Proleva who had suggested that she get Lanoga and the baby cleaned up a little. Women with infants might not want to hold such a grimy baby for fear she might soil their own child.
As Lanoga picked up the baby, Ayla signaled Wolf, who had been lying down watching the activities, partly hidden by a log. Laramar hadn’t seen the animal, and when Wolf stood up, his eyes widened with surprise as he became aware of what a large, powerful carnivore he actually was. The man backed off a few steps, then gave the foreign woman an insincere smile.
“That’s a big animal. Are you sure it’s safe to bring him around people, especially children?” he asked.
He doesn’t care about children, Ayla thought, reading his subtle body language. He’s talking about children and implying that I am doing something that might harm people to hide his own fear. Other people had voiced a similar concern without offending her, but she disapproved of Laramar because he had so little concern for the children for whom he should have been responsible. She didn’t like the man, and his objections evoked a negative reaction in her.
“Wolf has never threatened a child. The only person he ever harmed was a woman who attacked me,” Ayla said, looking directly into his eyes. Among the people of the Clan, such a direct glare would have been construed as a threat, and a subliminal impression of that was communicated. “Wolf killed the woman,” she added. Laramar took another step back, grinning nervously.
That was not a smart thing to say, Ayla thought as she walked toward the front terrace with Lanoga, the baby, and Wolf. Why did I say it? She looked down at the animal trotting confidently beside her. I was acting almost like a wolf leader, making a lower-ranked pack member back down. But this is not a wolf pack, and I am not a leader. He’s already talking against me, I might be making trouble for myself.
When they started down the path at the lower end of the terrace, Ayla offered to carry the baby for a while, but Lanoga said no and shifted Lorala on her hip. Wolf sniffed at the ground, and Ayla noticed hoofprints. The horses had come this way before. She was going to point them out to the girl, but changed her mind. Lanoga didn’t talk much, and Ayla didn’t want to pressure her into uncomfortable conversation.
They reached the edge of The River, and as they continued along the bank of waterway, Ayla stopped now and then to examine a plant. With a digging stick she carried pushed through her waist thong, she removed several plants with the roots. The girl watched her, and Ayla was going to show her the defining characteristics of the vegetation so she could find it herself, but decided to wait until after she understood their use.
The spring-fed creek that separated the Ninth Cave from Down River tumbled down from the stone porch in a narrow waterfall, then became a minor tributary of The River. Ayla stopped when they reached the water flowing out of the groove it had worn into the limestone and over the edge in a thin cascade of gurgling, foaming liquid. Somewhat beyond the falls, large stones had broken loose from the limestone wall and created a kind of dam with a small pond behind it. One of the stones had a natural basin with mosslike water plants lining it.
The water that filled it came primarily from rain and the backsplashing spray of the waterfall. In the summer, when there was less rain, the water level of the basin was lower and she thought the sun might have warmed it. She dipped her hand in. As she expected, it was tepid, a little cool, but warmer than the water in the pool, and the water plants made the bottom of the basin soft.
Ayla put down her carrying sack. “I brought some food, do you want to feed Lorala now or later?” she asked.
“Now,” Lanoga said.
“All right, let’s eat now,” Ayla said. “I have some cooked grain, and that meat that we scraped for Lorala. I brought enough food for all of us. Even some meaty bones for Wolf. What do you use to feed the baby?”
“My hand,” she said.
Ayla looked at her dirty hands. It didn’t matter. She had fed the child with her dirty hands before, but the woman decided to show her anyway. She held up the plants she had collected on the way.
“Lanoga, I’m going to show you what these plants are for,” Ayla said. The girl looked at them. “They are called soaproot. There are several different kinds, and some work better than others. First I will wash the dirt off of them in this little stream,” she explained, showing Lanoga how to clean them. Then she looked for a round hard stone and a level place on one of the fallen boulders near the basin. “Next, you need to crush the roots. They will work if you just crush them, but soaking draws out more of the slippery juice.” The girl watched closely, but said nothing.
Ayla got a small watertight woven basket out of the pack she carried over one shoulder and moved to the stone basin. “Water by itself doesn’t always get dirt off very well. Soaproot makes it easier. The water in this basin is a little warmer than the water in the stream. Would you like to feel it?” Ayla said.
“I don’t know,” the girl said, looking at her as if she didn’t quite understand.
“Lanoga, come here and put your hand in this water,” Ayla said.
She came closer and put the hand that was not holding the baby in the water.
“It’s warmer isn’t it? Do you like how it feels?” Ayla said.
“I don’t know,” Lanoga said.
Ayla dipped a little of the tepid water into the basket, added the crushed soaproot, and mixed it around with her hand. Then she took out a little of the mashed plant and rubbed her hands together. “Lanoga, put the baby down, pick up some of this soaproot, and do what I am doing,” the woman said.
The girl watched her, lifted the baby off her hip, put her down in the dirt near her feet, then slowly reached for the soaproot. She dipped it in the water and rubbed her hands together. A little foam started to form, and a brief expression of interest crossed Lanoga’s face. The saponin-filled roots did not create an abundance of soapy lather, but it was enough to clean her hands.
“Good soaproot should be slippery and make some foam,” Ayla said. “Now rinse it off, like this. See how much cleaner your hands are?” The girl dipped her hands in the water and then looked at them. Again an expression of interest crossed her face. “Let’s eat now.”
Ayla went back to where her haversack was and took out some packages. One was a carved wooden bowl with a lid, tied on with cordage wrapped around it. She untied the cords, removed the lid, and lightly touched the top of the contents. “It is still slightly warm,” she said, showing her the congealed mass of finely ground cooked grains of different varieties. “I collected this grain last fall when Jondalar and I were on our Journey. There are some rye seeds and wheat seeds, and some oats. I added a little salt while it was cooking. The little black seeds come from a plant I call goosefoot, but it has a diff
erent Zelandonii name. The leaves are good to eat, too. I made this cereal for Lorala. I think there’s enough for you and me, too, but why don’t you see if she likes the meat we scraped first.”
The meat was wrapped in some large plantain leaves. Ayla handed it to Lanoga and watched to see what she would do. She opened the package, took some of the mushy substance in her fingers, and put it in the baby’s mouth while she was sitting on her hip. The child opened her mouth readily for her sister, but at the first taste, she looked surprised. She moved it around in her mouth, examining the taste and texture, and when she finally swallowed it, she opened her mouth for more. She reminded Ayla of a little bird.
Lanoga smiled, and Ayla realized it was the first time she had seen the girl smile. Lanoga fed her sister the rest of the meat, then started on the cereal. She took a taste herself first, then put some in the baby’s mouth. They both watched her reaction to the new taste. With an expression of intense concentration, she examined it with her mouth, even chewing the somewhat gummy concoction. She seemed to think about it for a moment, then swallowed and opened her mouth for more. Ayla was amazed at how much the baby was able to eat, but only when she finally stopped opening her mouth did Lanoga put another taste in her own mouth.
“If you give her something to hold, does Lorala put it in her mouth?” Ayla asked.
“Yes,” the girl said.
“I brought a little piece of marrow bone. I knew a boy who used to love them when he was a baby,” Ayla said with a smile of fond remembrance and sorrow. “Give it to her and see if she likes it.” Ayla handed her a small piece of deer leg bone, with a hole in the center filled with rich marrow. As soon as Lanoga gave her the bone, the baby put it in her mouth. Again there was that startled look as she stopped and examined the taste, but soon they could hear her making sucking sounds. “Put her down and eat something yourself, Lanoga.”
Wolf had been watching the baby from the place a few feet away where Ayla had motioned him to stay. Making little yearning whines, he crept slowly toward the infant as she was sitting on a patch of grass. Lanoga watched him a moment, than turned toward Ayla with a look of concern. She hadn’t even acknowledged the presence of the animal before.