The Valley of Horses (Earth's Children 2)

Jondalar smiled at the game they had obviously played with her before. Her tribe not only revered their ancient ancestress, they loved her, and she seemed to enjoy their fun. Haduma looked around and, seeing Jondalar, pointed at him. The men waved him over, and he noticed the care with which they helped her onto his back. He stood up carefully. She weighed almost nothing, but he was surprised at the strength of her grip. The fragile old woman still had a certain toughness.

He started walking, but the rest were racing ahead, and she pounded his shoulder, urging him on. They ran up and down the beach until they were all out of breath, and then Jondalar got down to let her off. She straightened herself, found her staff, and, with great dignity, headed toward the tents.

“Can you believe that old woman?” Jondalar said to Thonolan with admiration. “Sixteen children, five generations, and she’s still going strong. I don’t doubt that she will live to see her sixth generation.”

“She live see six generation, then she die.”

Jondalar turned at the voice. He hadn’t seen Tamen approach. “What do you mean, then she die?”

“Haduma say, Noria make blue-eye son, Zelandonii spirit, then Haduma die. She say, long time here, time go. See baby, then die. Baby name, Jondal, six generation Hadumai. Haduma happy Zelandonii man. Say good man. Pleasure woman First Rites not easy, Zelandonii man, good man.”

Jondalar was filled with mixed emotions. “If it is her wish to go, she will, but it makes me sad,” he said.

“Yes, all Hadumai much sad,” Tamen said.

“Can I see Noria again, so soon after First Rites? Just for a while? I don’t know your customs.”

“Custom, no. Haduma say yes. You go soon?”

“If Jeren says the sturgeon pays our obligation for chasing off the horses, I think we should. How did you know?”

“Haduma say.”

The camp feasted on sturgeon in the evening, and many hands had made short work of cutting strips for drying earlier in the afternoon. Jondalar glimpsed Noria once from a distance as she was escorted by several women to some place farther upstream. It was after dark before she was led to see him. They walked together toward the river, with two women following discreetly behind. It broke custom enough for her to see him immediately after First Rites; alone would be too much.

They stood by a tree not saying anything, her head bowed. He moved aside a tendril of hair and lifted her chin to look at him. She had tears in her eyes. Jondalar wiped a glistening drop from the corner of her eye with a knuckle, then brought it to his lips.

“Oh … Jondalar,” she cried, reaching for him.

He held her, kissed her gently, then more passionately.

“Noria,” he said. “Noria woman, beautiful woman.”

“Jondalar make Noria woman,” she said. “Make … Noria … Make …” She heaved a sob, wishing she knew the words to tell him what she wanted to say.

“I know, Noria. I know,” he said, holding her. Then he stood back holding her shoulders, smiled at her and patted her stomach. She smiled through her tears.

“Noria make Zelandonyee.…” She touched his eyelid. “Noria make Jondal … Haduma.…”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Tamen told me. Jondal, sixth-generation Hadumai.” He reached into his pouch. “I have something I want to give you, Noria.” He took out the stone donii and put it in her hand. He wished there were some way to tell her how special it was to him, to tell her his mother had given it to him, to tell her how old it was, how it had been passed down for many generations. Then he smiled. “This donii is my Haduma,” he said. “Jondalar’s Haduma. Now, it is Noria’s Haduma.”

“Jondalar Haduma?” she said with wonder, looking at the carved female shape. “Jondalar Haduma, Noria?”

He nodded, and she burst into tears, clutched it in both hands, and brought it to her lips. “Jondalar Haduma,” she said, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Suddenly she threw her arms around him and kissed him, then ran back toward the tents, crying so hard that she could barely see her way.

The whole camp turned out to see them off. Haduma was standing beside Noria when Jondalar stopped in front of them. Haduma was smiling, nodding approval, but tears were rolling down Noria’s cheeks. He reached for one, brought it to his mouth, and she smiled, though it didn’t check her tears. He turned to go, but not before he saw the curly-haired young man Jer

en had sent as a runner looking at Noria with lovesick eyes.

She was a woman now and blessed by Haduma, assured of bringing a lucky child to a man’s hearth. It was common talk that she had known pleasure at First Rites, and everyone knew such women made the best mates. Noria was eminently matable, utterly desirable.

“Do you really think Noria is pregnant with a child of your spirit?” Thonolan asked after they left the camp behind.

“I’ll never know, but that Haduma is a wise old woman. She knows more than anyone can guess. I think she does have ‘big magic.’ If anyone could make it happen, she could.”

They walked in silence beside the river for a while, then Thonolan said, “Big Brother, there’s something I’d like to ask you.”

“Ask away.”

“What magic do you have? I mean, every man talks about being chosen for First Rites, but it really scares a lot of them. I know a couple who have turned it down, and to be honest, I always feel clumsy. I’d never turn it down, though. But you, you get chosen all the time. And I’ve never seen it fail. They all fall in love with you. How do you do it? I’ve watched you rut around at festivals; I can’t see anything special.”

“I don’t know, Thonolan,” he said, a little embarrassed. “I just try to be careful.”

“What man doesn’t? It’s more than that. What was it Tamen said? ‘Pleasure woman First Rites not easy.’ How do you give a woman pleasure then? I’m just happy if I don’t hurt her too much. And it’s not like you’re undersized or anything to make it easier. Come on, give your little brother some advice. I wouldn’t mind a bunch of young beauties following me around.”

He slowed and looked at Thonolan. “Yes you would. I think that’s one of the reasons I got myself promised to Marona, so I’d have an excuse.” Jondalar’s forehead furrowed. “First Rites are special for a woman. They are for me, too. But a lot of young women are still girls in some ways. They haven’t learned the difference between running after boys and inviting a man. How do you tactfully tell a young woman, whom you’ve just spent a very special night with, that you’d rather relax with a more experienced woman, when she’s cornered you alone? Great Doni, Thonolan! I don’t want to hurt them, but I don’t fall in love with every woman I spend a night with.”