The Valley of Horses (Earth's Children 2)

“No! No! No! She can’t be! Why? Why would the Mother bless her with a child, and then take them both?”

Thonolan was pacing furiously within the confines of the dwelling he had shared with Jetamio, pounding one fist into the other hand. Jondalar stood by helplessly, unable to offer more than the comfort of his presence. Most could not offer that much. Thonolan, wild with grief, had screamed at everyone to get away.

“Jondalar, why her? Why would the Mother take her? She had so little, she suffered through so much. Was it so much to ask? A child? Someone of her own flesh and blood?”

“I don’t know, Thonolan. Not even a zelandoni could answer you.”

“Why like that? With such pain?” Thonolan stopped in front of his brother, appealing to him. “She hardly knew me when I came. Jondalar, she was hurting. I could see it in her eyes. Why did she have to die?”

“No one knows why the Mother gives life, and then takes it back.”

“The Mother! The Mother! She doesn’t care. Jetamio honored Her, I honored Her. What did it matter? She took Jetamio anyway. I hate the Mother!” He started pacing again.

“Jondalar …” Roshario called from the entrance, hesitating to come in.

Jondalar stepped out. “What is it?”

“Shamud cut in to take the baby, after she …” Roshario blinked back a tear. “He thought he might be able to save the baby—sometimes that will work. It was too late, but it was a boy. I don’t know if you want to tell him or not.”

“Thank you, Roshario.”

He could see she had been grieving. Jetamio had been a daughter. Roshario had raised her, cared for her through a paralyzing illness and a long recovery, and had been with her from the beginning to the agonizing end of her ill-fated labor. Suddenly Thonolan pushed past them, struggling into his old traveling backframe and heading toward the pathway around the wall.

“I don’t think now is the time. I’ll tell him later,” Jondalar said, running after his brother.

“Where are you going?” he asked, catching up to him.

“I’m leaving. I never should have stopped. I haven’t reached the end of my Journey.”

“You can’t leave now,” Jondalar said, putting a restraining hand on his arm. Thonolan shrugged it off violently.

“Why not? What’s to keep me here?” Thonolan sobbed.

Jondalar stopped him again, spun him around, and looked into a face so lacerated with grief that he hardly recognized him. The pain was so deep, it burned his own soul. There had been times when he had envied Thonolan’s joy in his love for Jetamio, wondering at the defect in his character that prevented him from knowing such love. Was it worth it? Was the love worth this anguish? This bitter desolation?

“Can you leave Jetamio and her son to be buried without you?”

“Her son? How do you know it was a son?”

“Shamud took it. He thought he might save at least the baby. It was too late.”

“I don’t want to see the son that killed her.”

“Thonolan. Thonolan. She asked to be blessed. She wanted to be pregnant, and she was so happy about it. Would you have taken that happiness from her? Would you rather she had lived a long life of sorrow? Childless, and despairing of ever having one? She had love and happiness, first mated to you, then blessed by the Mother. It was only a short time, but she told me she was happier than she ever dreamed possible. She said nothing gave her more joy than you, and knowing she was carrying a child. Your child, she called it, Thonolan. The child of your spirit. Maybe the Mother knew it had to be one or the other, and chose to give her the joy.”

“Jondalar, she didn’t even know me.…” Thonolan’s voice cracked.

“Shamud gave her something at the end, Thonolan. There was no hope that she would give birth, but she didn’t suffer so much. She knew you were there.”

“The Mother took everything when She took Jetamio. I was so full of love, and now I am empty, Jondalar. I have nothing left. How can she be gone?” Thonolan swayed. Jondalar reached for him, supported him as he crumpled, and held him against his shoulder while he sobbed his despair.

“Why not back home, Thonolan? If we leave now, we can make it to the glacier by winter and be home next spring. Why do you want to go east?” Jondalar’s voice held longing.

“You go home, Jondalar. You should have gone long ago. I always said you’re a Zelandonii and will always be one. I’m going east.”

“You said you were going to make a Journey to the end of the Great Mother River. Once you reach Beran Sea, what will you do?”

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll go around the sea. Maybe I’ll go north and hunt mammoth with Tholie’s people. The Mamutoi say there is another mountain range far to the east. Home has nothing for me, Jondalar. I’d rather look for something new. It’s time for us to go different ways, Brother. You go west, I’ll go east.”

“If you don’t want to go back, why not stay here?”

“Yes, why not stay here, Thonolan?” Dolando said, joining them. “And you too, Jondalar. Shamudoi or Ramudoi, it doesn’t matter. You belong.

You have family here, and friends. We would be sorry to see either of you leave.”

“Dolando, you know I was ready to live here for the rest of my life. I can’t now. Everything is too full of her. I keep expecting to see her. Every day I’m here I have to remember all over again that I will never see her again. I’m sorry. I will miss many people, but I must go.”

Dolando nodded. He didn’t push them to stay, but he had wanted to let them know they were family. “When will you leave?”

“Soon. A few days at most,” Thonolan replied. “I’d like to arrange a trade, Dolando. I’ll be leaving everything behind, except traveling packs and clothes. I’d like a small boat, though.”

“I’m sure it can be arranged. You’ll be going downstream, then. East? Not back to the Zelandonii?”

“I’m going east,” Thonolan said.

“And you, Jondalar?”

“I don’t know. There’s Serenio and Darvo…”

Dolando nodded. Jondalar may not have made the tie formal, but he knew the decision would not be any easier for it. The tall Zelandonii had reasons to go west, to stay, or to go east, and which way he would choose was anyone’s guess.

“Roshario’s been cooking all day. I think she’s doing it to keep herself busy, so she won’t have time to think,” Dolando said. “It would please her if you’d join us for a meal Jondalar, she’d like Serenio and Darvo, too. It would please her even more if you would just eat something, Thonolan. She worries about you.”

It must be hard on Dolando, too, Jondalar realized. He had been so worried about Thonolan that he hadn’t thought of the grief of the Cave. This had been Jetamio’s home. Dolando must have cared for her as he would any child of his hearth. She had been close to many. Tholie and Markeno were her family, and he knew Serenio had been crying. Darvo was upset, not wanting to talk to him.

“I’ll ask Serenio,” Jondalar said. “I’m sure Darvo would like to go. Maybe you should just count on him. I’d like to have a talk with Serenio.”