The Valley of Horses (Earth's Children 2)

“I haven’t seen any of those mushrooms—are you going to keep the wine and the mushrooms, too?” Rondo asked.

“Don’t rush me. I’ve been trying to get this bag open. Here, Thonolan, you’re the guest of honor. You get first pick.”

“Markeno, is it true the Mamutoi make a drink out of a plant that’s better than wine or mushrooms?” Tarluno asked.

“I don’t know about better, but I’ve only had it once.”

“How about more steam?” Rondo said, splashing a cup of water on the rocks below, assuming everyone’s assent.

“Some people, to west, put in steam something,” Jondalar commented.

“And one Cave breathe smoke from plant. They let you try, but they not tell what it is,” Thonolan added.

“You two must have tried almost everything … in all your traveling,” Chalono said. “That’s what I’d like to do, try everything there is.”

“I hear flatheads drink something …” Tarluno volunteered.

“They’re animals—they’ll drink anything,” Chalono said.

“Isn’t that what you just said you wanted to do?” Rondo jeered. An outburst of laughter followed.

Chalono noticed Rondo’s comments often provoked laughter—sometimes at his expense. Not to be outdone, he began a story that had been known to cause laughter before. “You know the one about the old man who was so blind, he caught a flathead female and thought it was a woman …”

“Yeah, his pizzle fell off. That’s disgusting, Chalono,” Rondo said. “And what man would mistake a flathead for a woman?”

“Some do not mistake. Do on purpose,” Thonolan said. “Men from Cave, far to west, take Pleasures with flathead females, make trouble for Caves.”

“You’re joking!”

“It no joke. Whole pack of flatheads surround us,” Jondalar confirmed. “They angry. Later we hear some men take flathead women, cause trouble.”

“How did you get away?”

“They let,” Jondalar said. “Leader of pack, he smart. Flatheads more smart people think.”

“I heard of a man who got a flathead female on a dare,” Chalono said.

“Who? You?” Rondo sneered. “You said you wanted to try everything.”

Chalono tried to defend himself, but the laughter drowned him out. When it died down, he tried again. “I didn’t mean that. I was talking about mushrooms and wine and such when I said I wanted to try everything.” He was feeling some effects and becoming a bit thick-tongued. “But a lot of boys talk about flathead females, before they know what women are. I heard of one who took a flathead on a dare, or said he did.”

“Boys will talk about anything,” Markeno said.

“What do you think girls talk about?” Tarluno asked.

“Maybe they talk about flathead males,” Chalono said.

“I don’t want to listen to this anymore,” Rondo said.

“You did your share of talking about it when we were younger, Rondo,” Chalono said, beginning to take offense.

“Well, I’ve grown up. I wish you would. I’m tired of your disgusting remarks.”

Chalono was insulted, and a little drunk. If he was going to be accused of being disgusting, he’d really give them something disgusting. “Is that so, Rondo? Well, I heard of a woman who took her Pleasure with a flathead, and the Mother gave her a baby of mixed spirits…”

“Eeeuch!” Rondo curled his lip and shuddered with repugnance. “Chalono, that’s not anything to joke about. Who asked him to this party? Get him out of here. I feel like I’ve just had filth thrown in my face. I don’t mind a little joking around, but he’s gone too far!”

“Rondo’s right,” Tarluno said. “Why don’t you leave, Chalono?”

“No,” Jondalar said. “Cold out, dark. Not make leave. True, babies of mix spirits not for joke, but why everyone know of them?”

“Half-animal, half-human abominations!” Rondo mumbled. “I don’t want to talk about them. It’s too hot in here. I’m getting out before I get sick!”

“This is supposed to be Thonolan’s party to relax,” Markeno said. “Why don’t we all go out and take a swim, then come back and start all over again. There’s still plenty of Jetamio’s wine left. I didn’t tell you, but I brought two waterbags of it.”

“I don’t think the stones are hot enough, Carlono,” Markeno said. There was an undercurrent of tension in his voice.

“It’s not good to let the water stand in the boat too long. We don’t want the wood to swell, only to soften enough to give. Thonolan, are the struts close by so they’ll be ready when we need them?” Carlono asked with a worried frown.

“They here,” he replied, indicating the poles of alder trunks, cut to length, on the ground near the large dugout filled with water.

“We’d better start, Markeno, and hope the stones are hot.”

Jondalar was still amazed at the transformation, though he had watched it take shape. The oak bole was no longer a log. The inside had been gouged out and smoothed, and the exterior had the sleek lines of a long canoe. The thickness of the shell was no more than the length of a man’s knuckle, except for the solid stem and stern. He had watched Carlono shave off a skin of wood, whose thickness was no more than that of a twig, with a chisel-shaped stone adze to bring the watercraft to

its final dimension. After trying it himself, Jondalar was even more astounded at the skill and dexterity of the man. The boat tapered to a sharp cutwater at the prow, which extended forward. It had a slightly flattened bottom, a less pronounced tapering stern, and it was very long in proportion to its width.

The four of them quickly transferred the cobbles that had been heating in the large fireplace to the water-filled boat, causing the water to steam and boil. The process was no different from heating stones to boil water for tea in the trough near the lean-to, but on a larger scale. And the purpose was different. The heat and steam were not to cook anything, but to reshape the container.

Markeno and Carlono, facing each other across the boat at the midsection, were already testing the flexibility of the hull, pulling carefully to widen the craft, yet not crack the wood. All the hard work of digging out and shaping the boat would have been for nothing if it cracked in expanding. It was a tense moment. As the middle was pulled apart, Thonolan and Jondalar were ready with the longest strut, and when it was wide enough they fitted the brace in crosswise, and held their breaths. It seemed to hold.

Once the center strut was in, proportionally shorter ones were worked into place along the length of the boat. They bailed out the hot water until the four men could manage the weight, took out the rocks and tipped the canoe to pour out the rest of the water, then set the boat between blocks to dry.

The men breathed easier as they stood back to look and admire. The boat was close to fifty feet long, and more than eight feet across at the midsection, but the expansion had altered the lines in another important way. As the middle was widened, the fore and aft sections had lifted, giving the craft a graceful upward curve toward the ends. The results of the expansion were not only a broader beam for greater stability and capacity, but a raised bow and stern that would clear the water to take waves or rough water more easily.

“Now she’s a lazy man’s boat,” Carlono said as they walked to another area of the clearing.