The Valley of Horses (Earth's Children 2)

A young woman stepped forward and smiled shyly at Jondalar. She was hardly more than a girl, but showed the fresh sparkle of new womanhood. The laughter finally subsided.

“Haduma big magic,” Tamen said. “Haduma bless. Noria five … generations.” He held up five fingers. “Noria make child, make … six generations.” He held up another finger.

“Haduma want Zelandonii man … honor Mother …”

Tamen smiled as he remembered the words, “First Rites.”

The worry lines on Jondalar’s forehead smoothed out, and the beginnings of a smile turned up the corners of his mouth.

“Haduma bless. Make spirit go Noria. Noria make … baby, Zelandonii eyes.”

Jondalar exploded with laughter, as much with relief as pleasure. He looked at his brother. Thonolan was not laughing anymore. “Do you still want to go home and tell everyone about the old hag I bedded?” he asked. He turned to Tamen. “Please tell Haduma it will be my pleasure to honor the Mother and share Noria’s First Rites.”

He smiled warmly at the young woman. She smiled back, tentatively at first, but, bathed in the unconscious charisma of his vivid blue eyes, her smile grew.

Tamen spoke to Haduma. She nodded, then motioned for Jondalar and Thonolan to stand, and looked the tall blond man over carefully again. The warmth of his smile still lingered, and when Haduma looked into his eyes, she chuckled softly and went into the large circular tent. The people were still laughing and talking about the misunderstanding as the crowd broke up.

The two brothers stayed to talk to Tamen; even his limited ability to communicate was better than none at all.

“When did you visit the Zelandonii?” Thonolan asked. “Do you remember what Cave it was?”

“Long time,” he said. “Tamen young man, like Zelandonii man.”

“Tamen, this is my brother, Thonolan, and my name is Jondalar, Jondalar of the Zelandonii.”

“You … welcome, Thonolan, Jondalar.” The old man smiled. “I, Tamen, three generation Hadumai. No talk Zelandonii long time. Forget. No talk good. You talk, Tamen … ?”

“Remember?” Jondalar suggested. The man nodded. “Third generation? I thought you were Haduma’s son,” Jondalar added.

“No.” He shook his head. “Want make Zelandonii man know Haduma, mother.”

“My name is Jondalar, Tamen.”

“Jondalar,” he corrected. “Tamen not Haduma son. Haduma make daughter.” He held up one finger with a questioning look.

“One daughter?” Jondalar said. Tamen shook his head.

“First daughter?”

“Yes, Haduma make first daughter. Daughter make first son.” He pointed to himself. “Tamen. Tamen … mate?” Jondalar nodded. “Tamen mate to mother, Noria mother.”

“I think I understand. You are the first son of Haduma’s first daughter, and your mate is Noria’s grandmother.”

“Grandmother, yes. Noria make … big honor Tamen … six generation.”

“I am honored, too, to be chosen for her First Rites.”

“Noria make … baby, Zelandonii eyes. Make Haduma … happy.” He smiled remembering the word. “Haduma say big Zelandonii man make … big … strong spirit, make strong Hadumai.”

“Tamen,” Jondalar said, his forehead knotted. “Noria might not make a baby of my spirit, you know.”

Tamen smiled. “Haduma big magic. Haduma bless, Noria make. Big magic. Woman no children. Haduma …” He pointed with a finger toward Jondalar’s groin.

“Touch?” Jondalar provided the word, feeling his ears warm.

“Haduma touch, woman make baby. Woman no … milk. Haduma touch, woman make milk. Haduma make Jondalar … big honor. Many man want Haduma touch. Make long time man. Make man … pleasure?” They all smiled. “Pleasure woman, all time. Many woman, many time. Haduma big magic.” He paused, and his face lost its smile. “No make Haduma … anger. Haduma bad magic, anger.”

“And I laughed,” Thonolan said. “Do you suppose I could get her to touch me? You and your big blue eyes, Jondalar.”

“Little Brother, the only magic touch you ever needed was the inviting look of a pretty woman.”

“So. I never noticed you needing help. Look who’s sharing First Rites? Not your little brother with his dull gray eyes.”

“Poor little brother. A camp full of women and he’s going to spend the night alone. Not on your life.” They laughed, and Tamen, who caught the drift of the banter, joined in.

“Tamen, maybe you’d better tell me about your customs for First Rites,” Jondalar said, more serious.

“Before you get into that,” Thonolan said, “can you get our spears and knives back? I’ve got an idea. While my brother is busy beguiling that young beauty with his big blue eyes, I think I know a way to make your angry hunter happier.”

“How?” Jondalar asked.

“With a grandmother, of course.”

Tamen looked confused, but he shrugged it off as problems with the language.

Jondalar saw little of Thonolan that evening or the next day; he was too busy with the purification rituals. The language was a barrier to understanding even with Tamen’s help, and when he was alone with the scowling older women, it was worse. Only when Haduma was there did he feel more relaxed, and he was sure she smoothed over some unforgivable blunders.

Haduma didn’t rule the people, but it was obvious they would refuse her nothing. She was treated with benevolent reverence and a little fear. It had to be magic that she had lived so long and retained her full mental faculties. She had a knack for sensing when Jondalar was in difficulty. On one occasion, when he was sure he had unknowingly broken some taboo, she waded in, eyes flashing anger, and beat the backs of several retreating women with her staff. She would brook no opposition to him; her sixth generation would have Jondalar’s blue eyes.

In the evening, when he was finally led to the large circular structure, he wasn’t even sure it was time, until he went inside. As he stepped through the entrance, he paused to look around. Two stone lamps, with bowl-shaped wells filled with fat in which wicks of dried moss burned, lit one side. The ground was covered with furs and the walls were hung with bark-cloth weavings in intricate patterns. Behind a raised platform covered with furs hung the thick white fur of an albino horse decorated with the red heads of immature great spotted woodpeckers. Sitting on the very edge of the platform was Noria, nervously staring down at her hands in her lap.

On the other side, a small section was partitioned off with hanging leather hides marked with esoteric symbols, and a screen of thongs—one of the hides cut into narrow strips. Someone was behind the screen. He saw a hand move a few of the strips aside, and looked into Haduma’s wrinkled old face for a brief moment. He breathed a sigh of relief. There was always at least one guardian, to bear witness that a girl’s transformation to full womanhood was complete, and to make sure a man wasn’t unduly rough. As a strnger

, he had felt some concern that there might be a bevy of disapproving guardians. With Haduma he felt no qualms. He didn’t know if he should greet her or ignore her, but he decided on the latter when the screen closed.

When Noria saw him, she stood up. He walked toward her, smiling. She was rather small, with soft, light brown hair hanging loosely around her face. She was barefoot, and a skirt of some woven fiber was tied at the waist and fell to below her knees in colorful bands. A shirt of soft deerskin embroidered with dyed quills was laced together tightly up the front. It conformed to her body enough to reveal that her womanhood was well established, though she had not lost all her girlish roundness.

She got a frightened look in her eye as he approached, though she tried to smile. But when he made no sudden moves, just sat down on the edge of the platform and smiled, she seemed to relax a little, and sat down beside him, far enough away so that their knees did not touch.

It would help if I could speak her language, he thought. She’s so scared. No wonder, I’m a total stranger to her. Appealing, so frightened like that. He felt protective, and a few twinges of excitement. He noticed a carved wooden bowl and some drinking cups on a nearby stand and started to reach, but Noria saw his intention and jumped up to fill the cups.

As she gave him a cup of amber liquid, he touched her hand. It startled her. She pulled it back a little, then left it. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, then took the cup and drank. The liquid had the sweet, strong taste of something fermented. Not unpleasant, but he wasn’t sure how strong it was, and decided to drink lightly.

“Thank you, Noria,” he said, putting the cup down.

“Jondalar?” she asked, looking up. By the light of the stone lamps he could tell her eyes were a light shade, but he wasn’t sure if they were gray or blue.

“Yes, Jondalar. Of the Zelandonii.”

“Jondalar … Zelandonyee man.”

“Noria, Hadumai woman.”

“Wo-man?”