The Plains of Passage (Earth's Children 4)

Jondalar indicated the space that would be heated, and he said to the shaman, "This is the place where the Mother's sacred fire burns?" It was as much statement as question.

S'Armuna nodded, knowing he believed her now. The woman had known before she saw the place; it had taken the man a little longer.

Ayla was glad when the woman led them out of the place. She didn't know if it was the heat from the fire inside the small space, or the clay objects, or something else, but she had begun to feel quite uneasy. She sensed it could be dangerous in there.

"How did you discover this?" Jondalar asked, waving his arm to take in the entire complex of ceramic objects and kiln.

"The Mother led me to it," the woman said.

"I'm certain of that, but how?" he asked again.

S'Armuna smiled at his persistence. It seemed appropriate that a son of Marthona would want to understand. "The first idea came when we were building an earthlodge," she said. "Do you know how we make them?"

"I think so. Yours seem to be similar to the Mamutoi lodges, and we helped Talut and the others make an addition to Lion Camp," Jondalar said. "They started with the supporting frame made of mammoth bones, and over that attached a thick thatch of willow withes, followed by another thatch of grasses, and reeds. Then a layer of sod. On top of that they spread a coating slurry of river clay, which got very hard when it dried."

"That is essentially what we do," S'Armuna said. "It was when we were adding that last coating of clay that the Mother revealed the first part of Her secret to me. We were finishing up the final section, but it was getting dark, so we built a big fire. The clay slurry was thickening, and some of it was accidentally dropped in the fire. It was a hot fire, using a lot of bone for fuel, and we kept it going most of the night. In the morning, Brugar told me to clean out the fireplace, and I found some of the clay had hardened. I noticed, in particular, a piece that resembled a lion."

"Ayla's protective totem is a lion," Jondalar commented.

The shaman glanced at her, then nodded as though to herself as she continued. "When I discovered that the lion figure didn't soften in water, I decided to try to make more. It took a lot of trying, and other hints from the Mother, before I finally worked it out."

"Why are you telling us your secrets? Showing us your power?" Ayla asked.

The question was so direct that it caught the woman off guard, but then she smiled. "Do not imagine I am telling you all my secrets. I am only showing you the obvious. Brugar thought he knew my secrets, too, but he soon learned."

"I'm sure Brugar must have been aware of your trials," Ayla said. "You can't make a hot fire without everyone knowing about it. How were you able to keep secrets from him?"

"At first he didn't really care what I was doing, so long as I supplied my own fuel, until he saw some of the results. Then he thought he would make figures himself, but he did not know all that the Mother had revealed to me." The smile of the One Who Served showed her sense of vindication and triumph. "The Mother rejected his efforts with great fury. Brugar's figures burst apart with loud noises and broke into many pieces when he tried to fire them. The Great Mother flung them away with such speed that they caused painful injuries to the people close by. Brugar feared my power after that, and he stopped trying to control me."

Ayla could imagine being inside the small anteroom with pieces of red-hot clay flying around at great speeds. "But that still doesn't explain why you are telling us so much about your power. It's possible that someone else who can understand the ways of the Mother could learn your secrets."

S'Armuna nodded. She had almost expected as much from the woman, and she had already decided that complete openness would be the best course to follow. "You're right, of course. I do have a reason. I need your help. With this magic, the Mother has given me great power, even over Attaroa. She fears my magic, but she is shrewd and unpredictable, and someday she will overcome her fear, I'm sure of it. Then she will kill me." The woman looked at Jondalar. "My death would not be very important, except to me. It's the rest of my people, this whole Camp, that I fear the most for. When you talked about Marthona passing the leadership on to her son, it made me realize how bad things have become. I know Attaroa would never willingly turn over leadership to anyone, and by the time she is gone, I'm afraid there may be no Camp left."

"What makes you so certain? If she is so unpredictable, couldn't she just as easily grow tired of it all?" Jondalar asked.

"I'm certain because she has already killed one person to whom she might have passed on her leadership, her own child."

"She killed her child?!" Jondalar said. "When you said Attaroa caused the death of the three young people, I assumed it was an accident."

"It was not an accident. Attaroa poisoned them, though she doesn't admit to it."

"Poisoned her own child! How could anyone kill her own child?" Jondalar said. "And why?"

"Why? For plotting to help a friend. Cavoa, the young woman you met. She was in love with a man and was planning to run away with him. Her brother was trying to help them, too. All four were caught. Attaroa spared Cavoa only because she was pregnant, but she has threatened that if the baby is a boy, she will kill them both."

"No wonder she seems so unhappy and afraid," Ayla said.

"I must also be held responsible," S'Armuna said, the blood draining from her face as she said the words.

"You! What did you have against those young people?" Jondalar said.

"I had nothing against them. Attaroa's child was my acolyte, almost like my own child. I feel for Cavoa, hurt for her, but just as surely as if I had fed them the poison myself, I am responsible for their deaths. If it were not for me, Attaroa would not have known where to get the poison and how to use it."

They could both see that the woman was obviously distraught, though she controlled it well.

"But to kill her own child," Ayla said, shaking her head as if to rid herself of the idea. She was horror-stricken by the mere thought. "How could she?"

"I don't know. I will tell you what I do know, but it is a long story. I think we should go back to my lodge," S'Armuna suggested, looking around. She did not want to spend any more time talking about Attaroa in such a public place.