The Valley of Horses (Earth's Children 2)

“Ah, to be young again.” Laduni chuckled. “But the women who honor Duna most seem to be blessed more often with young ones. The Great Earth Mother smiles on those who appreciate Her Gifts.”

Jondalar moved his backframe behind the log, then headed toward the fire. A venison stew was cooking in a pot that was a leather skin supported by a frame of bones lashed together. It was suspended directly over the fire. The boiling liquid, though hot enough to cook the stew, kept the temperature of the cooking container too low to catch fire. The combustion temperature of leather was much hotter than the boiling stew.

A woman handed him a wooden bowl of the savory broth and sat down beside him on the log. He used his flint knife to spear the chunks of meat and vegetables—dried pieces of roots they had brought—and drank the liquid from the bowl. When he was through, the woman brought him a smaller bowl of herb tea. He smiled at her in thanks. She was a few years older than he, enough to have exchanged the prettiness of youth for the true beauty brought by maturity. She smiled back and sat beside him again.

“Do you speak Zelandonii?” he asked.

“Speak little, understand more,” she said.

“Should I ask Laduni to introduce us, or can I ask your name?”

She smiled again, with the hint of condescension of the older woman. “Only young girls need someone say name. I, Lanalia. You, Jondalar?”

“Yes,” he answered. He could feel the warmth of her leg and the excitement it raised showed in his eyes. She returned his gaze with a smoldering look. He moved his hand to her thigh. She leaned closer with a movement that encouraged him and promised experience. He nodded acceptance to her inviting look, though it wasn’t necessary. His eyes returned her invitation. She glanced over his shoulder. Jondalar followed her gaze and saw Laduni coming toward them. She relaxed comfortably beside him. They would wait until later to fulfill the promise.

Laduni joined them, and shortly after, Thonolan came back to his brother’s side of the fire with Filonia. Soon everyone was crowded around the two visitors. There was joking and banter, translated for those who could not understand. Finally, Jondalar decided to bring up a more serious subject. “Do you know much about the people down the river, Laduni?”

“We used to get an occasional visitor from the Sarmunai. They live north of the river downstream, but it’s been years. It happens. Sometimes young people all go the same way on their Journeys. Then it becomes well known and not so exciting, so they go another way. After a generation or so, only the old ones remember, and it becomes an adventure to go the first way again. All young people think their discoveries are new. It doesn’t matter if their ancestors did the same thing.”

“For them it is new,” Jondalar said but didn’t pursue the philosophical lead. He wanted some solid information before he was drawn into a discussion that might be enjoyable, but not immediately practical. “Can you tell me anything about their customs? Do you know any words in their language? Greetings? What should we avoid? What might be offensive?”

“I don’t know much, and nothing recent. There was a man who went east a few years ago, but he hasn’t returned. Who knows, maybe he decided to settle some other place,” Laduni said. “It’s said they make their dunai out of mud, but that’s just talk. I don’t know why anyone would make sacred images of the Mother out of mud. It would just crumble when it dried.”

“Maybe because it’s closer to the earth. Some people like stone for that reason.”

As he spoke, Jondalar unconsciously reached into the pouch attached to his belt and felt for the small stone figurine of an obese female. He felt the familiar huge breasts, her large protruding stomach, and her more than ample buttocks and thighs. The arms and legs were insignificant, it was the Mother aspects that were important, and the limbs on the stone figure were only suggested. The head was a knob with a suggestion of hair that carried across the face, with no features.

No one could look at the awesome face of Doni, the Great Earth Mother, Ancient Ancestress, First Mother, Creator and Sustainer of all life, She who blessed all women with Her power to create and bring forth life. And none of the small images of Her that carried Her Spirit, the donii, ever dared to suggest Her face. Even when She revealed Herself in dreams, Her face was usually unclear, though men often saw Her with a young and nubile body. Some women claimed they could take Her spirit form and fly like the wind to bring luck or wreak vengeance, and Her vengeance could be great.

If She was angered or dishonored, She was capable of many fearful deeds, but the most threatening was to withhold Her wondrous Gift of Pleasure that came when a woman chose to open herself to a man. The Great Mother and, it was claimed, some of Those Who Served Her could give a man the power to share Her Gift with as many women as he desired as often as he wished, or make him shrivel up so that he could bring Pleasure to none, nor find any himself.

Jondalar absentmindedly caressed the pendulous stone breasts of the donii in his pouch, wishing for luck as he thought about their Journey. It was true that some never returned, but that was part of the adventure. Then Thonolan asked Laduni a question that snapped him back to attention.

“What do you know about the flatheads around here? We ran into a pack a few days ago. I was sure we were going to end our Journey right there.” Suddenly Thonolan had everyone’s attention.

“What happened?” Laduni asked, tension in his voice. Thonolan related the incident they had had with the flatheads.

“Charoli!” Laduni spat.

“Who is Charoli?” Jondalar asked.

“A young man from Tomasi’s Cave, and the instigator of a gang of ruffians who have taken it into their heads to make sport of the flatheads. We never had any trouble with them. They stayed on their side of the river; we stayed on ours. If we did cross over, they kept out of the way, unless we stayed too long. Then all they did was make it obvious they were watching. That was enough. It makes you nervous to have a bunch of flatheads staring at you.”

“That’s for sure!” Thonolan said. “But what do you mean, make sport of the flatheads? I wouldn’t invite trouble from them.”

“It all started as high spirits. One would dare the other to run up and touch a flathead. They can be pretty fierce if you annoy them. Then the young men started ganging up on any flathead they found alone—circle around and tease him, try to get him to chase after them. Flatheads have a lot of wind, but they have short legs. A man can usually outrun one, but he’d better keep going. I’m not sure how it started, but next Charoli’s gang were beating up on them I suspect one of those flatheads they were teasing caught someone, and the rest jumped in to defend their friend. Anyway, they started making a practice of it, but even with several against one flathead, they didn’t get away without some good bruises.”

“I can believe that,” Thonolan said.

“What they did next was even worse,” Filonia added.

“Filonia! It’s disgusting! I won’t have you talking about it!” Laduni said, and his anger was real

“What did they do?” Jondalar asked. “If we’re going to be traveling through flathead territory, we ought to know.”

“I suppose you’re right, Jondalar. I just don’t like talking about it in front of Filonia.”

“I’m a grown woman,” she asserted, but her tone lacked conviction.

He looked at her, considering, then seemed to come to a decision. ?

??The males started coming out only in pairs or groups, and that was too much for Charoli’s gang. So they started trying to tease the females. But flathead females don’t fight. There’s no sport in picking on them, they just cower and run away. So his gang decided to use them for a different kind of sport. I don’t know who dared who first—probably Charoli goaded them on. It’s the kind of thing he’d do.”

“Goaded them to do what?” Jondalar asked.

“They started forcing flathead females …” Laduni could not finish. He jumped up, more than angry. He was enraged. “It’s an abomination! It dishonors the Mother, abuses Her Gift. Animals! Worse than animals! Worse than flatheads!”

“Do you mean they took their Pleasure with a flathead female? Forced? A flathead female?” Thonolan said.

“They bragged about it!” Filonia said. “I wouldn’t let a man near me who took his Pleasure with a flathead.”

“Filonia! You will not discuss such things! I will not have such filthy, disgusting language coming out of your mouth!” Laduni said. He was past rage; his eyes were hard as stone.

“Yes, Laduni,” she said, bowing her head in shame.

“I wonder how they feel about it,” Jondalar commented. “That might be why the young one went for me. I’d guess they’d be angry. I’ve heard some people say they could be human—and if they are …”

“I’ve heard that kind of talk!” Laduni said, still trying to calm himself. “Don’t believe it!”

“The leader of that pack we ran into was smart, and they walk on their legs just like we do.”

“Bears walk on their hind legs sometimes, too. Flatheads are animals! Intelligent animals, but animals.” Laduni struggled to get himself under control, aware that the whole group was uncomfortable. “They’re usually harmless unless you bother them,” he continued. “I don’t think it’s the females—I doubt if they understand how it dishonors the Mother. It’s all the baiting and beating up. If animals are annoyed enough, they’ll strike out.”