The Plains of Passage (Earth's Children 4)

It was just the head of the woman, no hint of a body, not even a neck, but there was no doubt who the carving was meant to depict. The hair was pulled up into a bun near the top of the head, and the narrow face was slightly skewed, with one side somewhat smaller than the other, yet the beauty and the dignity of the woman were evident. It seemed to emanate from within the small work of art.

"Do you think it's all right? Do you think she'll like it?" Cavoa said. "I wanted to make something special for her."

"I would like it," Ayla said, "and I think it expresses your feeling for her very well. You have a rare and wonderful Gift, Cavoa, but you must be sure to use it well. There could be great power in it. S'Armuna was wise to choose you as her acolyte."

By evening, a howling blizzard was raging, making it dangerous to move more than a few feet beyond the entrance of a lodge. S'Armuna was reaching for a bunch of dried greenery hanging from the rack near the entryway, planning to add it to a new batch of herbs she was mixing together for a potent drink she was preparing for the Fire Ceremony. The fire in the fireplace was burning low, and Ayla and Jondalar had just gone to bed. The woman planned to retire as soon as she finished.

Suddenly a blast of cold air and a flurry of snow accompanied the opening of the heavy drape stretched across the entrance to the anteroom. Esadoa pushed through the second drape in evident distress.

"S'Armuna! Hurry! It's Cavoa! Her time has come."

Ayla was out of bed pulling on clothes before the woman could reply.

"She picked a good night for it," S'Armuna said, maintaining calm, in part to soothe the agitated expectant grandmother. "It will be all right, Esadoa. She won't have the baby before we reach your lodge."

"She's not in my lodge. She insisted on going out in this storm to the big lodge. I don't know why, but she wants to have the baby there. And she wants Ayla to come, too. She says it's the only way to be sure the baby will be all right."

S'Armuna frowned with concern. "No one is there tonight, and it wasn't wise for her to go out in this weather."

"I know, but I couldn't stop her," Esadoa said, starting back out.

"Wait a moment," S'Armuna said. "We might as well all go together. You can get lost going from one lodge to the next in a storm like this."

"Wolf won't let us get lost," Ayla said, signaling the animal, who had been curled up beside their bed.

"Would it be inappropriate for me to come?" Jondalar said. It wasn't so much that he wanted to be there for the birthing as that he was worried about Ayla going out in the blizzard. S'Armuna looked at Esadoa.

"I don't mind, but should a man be at a birthing?" Esadoa said.

"There is no reason why not," S'Armuna said, "and it might be a good thing to have a man nearby since she has no mate."

They all braved the brunt of the wind together as the three women and the man went out into the howling gale. When they reached the big lodge, they found the young woman huddled over a cold, empty fireplace, her body tense with pain and a look of fear in her eyes. She brightened with relief when she saw her mother arrive with the others. Within moments, Ayla had a fire lit—much to the surprise of Esadoa —Jondalar was back outside getting snow from a drift to melt for water, Esadoa found the bedding that had been put away and arranged it on a bed platform, and S'Armuna was selecting various herbs that she might need from the supply she had brought there before.

Ayla settled the young woman, arranging everything so she could sit up comfortably or lie down if she chose, but she waited for S'Armuna and then both examined her. After reassuring Cavoa and leaving her with her mother, the two healers walked back to the fireplace and spoke quietly with each other.

"Did you notice?" S'Armuna asked.

"Yes. Do you know what it means?" Ayla said.

"I have an idea, but I think we'll just have to wait and see."

Jondalar had been trying to stay out of the way, and he approached the two women slowly. Something about their expressions made him sense that they felt some concern, which caused him to worry as well. He sat down on a sleeping platform and absently stroked the wolf's head.

As they waited, Jondalar paced nervously while Wolf watched him. He wished the time would pass more quickly, or that the storm would let up, or that he had something to do. He talked to the young woman a little, trying to be encouraging, and he smiled at her often, but he felt entirely useless. There was nothing he could do. Finally, as the night dragged on, he dozed a little on one of the beds, while the ghostly sound of the storm outside wailed an eerie counterpoint to the waiting scene inside, punctuated by periodic sounds of straining labor, slowly but inexorably drawing closer together.

He awoke to the sound of excited voices amidst a flurry of activity. Light was coming through the cracks around the smoke hole. He got up, stretched, and rubbed his eyes. Ignored by the three women, he went outside to pass his morning water. He was glad to see the storm had abated, though a few dry flakes were swirling in the wind.

As he started into the lodge, he heard the unmistakable squall of a newborn. He smiled but waited outside, not sure if it was an appropriate moment to go back in. Suddenly, to his surprise, he heard another squall, which caused the first one to make it a duet. Two of them! He couldn't resist. He had to go in.

Ayla, holding a swaddled infant in her arms, smiled as he came through the entrance. "A boy, Jondalar!"

S'Armuna was lifting a second baby, preparing to tie the umbilical cord. "And a girl," she said. "Twins! It's a favorable sign. So few babies were born while Attaroa was leader, but now I think that will change. I think this is the Mother's way of telling us the Camp of the Three Sisters will soon be growing and full of life again."

"Will you come back someday?" Doban asked the tall man. He was getting around much better, though he still used the crutch that Jondalar had made for him.

"I don't think so, Doban. One long Journey is enough. It's time to go home, settle down, and establish my hearth."

"I wish you lived closer, Zelandon."