The Plains of Passage (Earth's Children 4)

"Is it true that she has told the women that all children, including the one that is expected, if they are boys, will have their legs dislocated?" Olamun asked.

"That's what Ardemun said," Ebulan confirmed.

"Does she think she can tell the Mother what to do? Force Her to make only girl babies?" Jondalar asked. "She is tempting her fate, I think."

"Perhaps," Ebulan said, "but it will take the Mother Herself to stop her, I'm afraid."

"I think the Zelandonii may be right," S'Amodun said. "I think the Mother has already tried to warn her. Look how few babies have been born in the last several years. This latest outrage of hers, injuring children, may be more than She will stand for. Children are supposed to be protected, not harmed."

"I know Ayla would never stand for it. She wouldn't stand for any of this," Jondalar said. Then, remembering, he frowned and lowered his head. "But I don't even know if she's alive."

The men glanced at each other, hesitant to speak, though they all thought the same question. Finally Ebulan found his voice. "Is that the woman you claimed could ride on the backs of horses? She must be a woman of great powers if she can control horses like that."

"She wouldn't say so." Jondalar smiled. "But I think she has more 'power' than she will acknowledge. She doesn't ride all horses. She only rides the mare that she raised, although she has ridden my horse, too. But he's a little harder to control. That was the problem..."

"You can ride horses, too?" Olamun said in tones of disbelief.

"I can ride one ... well; I can ride hers, too, but . . ."

"Are you saying that the story you told Attaroa is true?" Ebulan said.

"Of course it's true. Why would I make up something like that?" He looked at the skeptical faces. "Maybe I'd better start at the beginning. Ayla raised a little filly..."

"Where did she get a filly?" Olamun asked.

"She was hunting and killed its dam, and then she saw the foal."

"But why would she raise it?" Ebulan asked.

"Because it was alone, and she was alone ... and that's a long story," Jondalar sidestepped, "but she wanted company and decided to take in the filly. When Whinney grew up—Ayla named the horse Whinney—she gave birth to a colt, just about the time we met. She showed me how to ride and gave me the colt to train. I named him Racer. That's a Zelandonii word that means a fast runner, and he likes to run fast. We have traveled all the way from the Mamutoi Summer Meeting, around the southern end of those mountains to the east, riding those horses. It really doesn't have anything to do with special powers. It's a matter of raising them from the time they are born, just like a mother would take care of a baby."

"Well ... if you say so," Ebulan said.

"I say so because it's true," Jondalar countered, then decided it was worthless to pursue the subject. They would have to see it to believe it, and it was unlikely that they ever would. Ayla was gone, and so were the horses.

Just then the gate opened and they all turned to see. Epadoa entered first along with a few of her women. Now that he knew more about her, Jondalar studied the woman who had actually caused such great pain to the two children. He wasn't sure who was more of an abomination, the one who conceived of the idea or the one who carried it out. Though he had no doubt that Attaroa would have done it herself, it was evident that something was wrong with her. She was not whole. Some dark spirit must have touched her and stolen a vital part of her being—but what about Epadoa? She seemed sound and whole, but how could she be and still be so cruel and unfeeling? Was she also lacking some essential part?

To everyone's surprise, Attaroa herself came in next.

"She never comes in here," Olamun said. "What can she want?" Her unusual behavior frightened him.

Behind her came several women carrying steaming trays of cooked meat along with tightly woven baskets of some delicious-smelling rich and meaty soup. Horsemeat! Have the hunters returned? Jondalar wondered. He hadn't eaten horsemeat for a long time, the thought of it didn't usually appeal to him, but at that moment it smelled delicious. A large, full waterbag with a few cups was also carried in.

The men watched the arriving procession avidly, but none of them moved anything except his eyes, afraid to do anything that might cause Attaroa to change her mind. They feared that it might be another cruel trick, to bring it in and show them and then take it away.

"Zelandonii!" Attaroa said, making the word sound like a command. Jondalar looked at her closely as he approached. She seemed almost masculine ... no, he decided, not exactly that. Her features were strong and sharp, but cleanly defined and well shaped. She was actually beautiful, in her way, or could have been, if she had not been so hard. But there was cruelty in the set of her mouth, and the lack in her soul showed in her eyes.

S'Armuna appeared at her side. She must have come in with the other women, he thought, though he hadn't noticed her before.

"I now speak for Attaroa," S'Armuna said in Zelandonii.

"You have a lot to answer for, yourself," Jondalar said. "How could you allow it? Attaroa lacks reason, but you do not. I hold you responsible." His blue eyes were icy with outrage.

Attaroa spoke angrily to the shaman.

"She does not want you to speak to me. I am here to translate for her. Attaroa wants you to look at her when you speak," S'Armuna said.

Jondalar looked at the headwoman and waited while she spoke. Then S'Armuna began the translation.