The Shelters of Stone (Earth's Children 5)

“It used to scare me, too,” Jondalar said. “I trust him now, I’m not afraid for Ayla anymore. I know he won’t hurt her, and I’ve seen what he can do to someone else who might try, but I admit, that special greeting of his does surprise me sometimes.”

When Willamar approached, they greeted each other with a quick touching of right cheeks. By now Ayla had learned that it was a customary informal greeting between family members or very close friends.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t go with you to see the horses, Ayla,” Folara said as they greeted each other the same way.

“There’s time for you to get to know the horses,” she said, then touched Marthona’s cheek with hers. The greeting with Jondalar was similar, but more lingering and closer. More like an embrace.

“I have to go back and help Zelandoni,” Ayla said, “but I was a little concerned about Wolf. I’m glad he returned here. It means he feels that this is his home, even if I’m not here.”

“How is Bologan?” Marthona asked.

“He is awake and able to talk, finally. I just came to tell Joharran.” Ayla wondered if she should mention her concerns about Tremeda’s baby. She was a stranger still, and maybe it wasn’t appropriate for her to bring it up. It could be construed as criticism of the Ninth Cave, but nobody else seemed to know about the situation, and if she didn’t say something, who would? “I talked to Proleva about another thing that bothers me,” she said.

There were looks of interest from Jondalar’s family. “What?” Marthona asked.

“Did you know that Tremeda’s milk has dried up? She hasn’t been home since Shevonar’s burial, and she left the baby and the rest of her children for Lanoga to care for and feed. That girl can count only ten years, she can’t nurse. All that baby is eating is mashed-up roots. She needs milk. How can a baby grow right without milk? And where is Laramar? Doesn’t he care at all?” Ayla said in a rush, blurting it all out at once.

Jondalar glanced around at everyone. Folara was aghast; Willamar looked a little stunned; and Marthona was caught off guard, which didn’t please her at all. Jondalar had to hold back a smile at the expressions on their faces. He wasn’t surprised at Ayla’s response to someone who needed help, but Laramar, Tremeda, and family had long been an embarrassment to the Ninth Cave. Most people didn’t talk about it, but Ayla had just brought it out into the open.

“Proleva said she didn’t know that Tremeda’s milk was gone,” Ayla continued. “She’s going to get the women together who can help, and we’re going to talk to them, explain what the baby needs, and ask them to share some of their milk. She thought the new mothers, and the ones who are almost ready to give birth, would be the ones to ask. This is such a big cave, there must be many women who could help feed that baby”

Jondalar knew they could, but he wondered if they would, and he speculated about whose idea it was; he thought he knew. He was aware that women sometimes nursed children other than their own, but usually it was a sister or a close friend whose infant they were willing to share their milk with.

“That sounds like an admirable idea,” Willamar said.

“If they’re willing,” Marthona said.

“Why wouldn’t they be?” Ayla said. “Zelandonii women wouldn’t let a baby the for lack of a little milk, would they? I did tell Lanoga I would go there tomorrow in the morning and teach her how to make more than mashed roots for the baby.”

“What can a baby eat besides milk?” Folara asked.

“Many things,” Ayla said. “If you scrape cooked meat, you get a soft substance that a baby can eat, and they can drink the liquid left after you boil meat. Nuts, ground to mush and mixed with some liquid, and grain that has been ground very fine and cooked, are good for them. Any vegetable can be cooked until it’s soft, and some fruit just needs to be mashed, though the seeds have to be strained out. I always poured fruit juice through bunched-up fresh cleavers. They’re full of prickles and stick together easily and catch the seeds. Babies can eat almost anything their mothers can eat, if it’s smooth and fine enough.”

“How do you know so much about food that babies can eat?” Folara asked.

Ayla stopped and flushed with dismay. She hadn’t expected the question. She knew babies were not limited to nursing because Iza had taught her how to make food for Uba when the woman got sick and lost her milk. But Ayla’s knowledge had expanded manyfold when Iza died, and Ayla was so devastated by the loss of the only mother she knew, her milk dried up. Though the other women in Brun’s small clan who were nursing all fed Durc, she’d had to supplement with regular food to keep him satisfied and healthy.

But she wasn’t ready to tell Jondalar’s family about her son just yet. They had recently said they wanted to accept her into the Zelandonii, make her one of them, even though they knew she had been raised by the people they called flatheads and considered to be animals. She would never forget the pain she had felt at Jondalar’s first reaction when she told him that she had a son who was a mixture of both, of mixed spirits. Because the spirit of one of those people he thought of as animals had mixed with hers to start a life growing inside her, he had looked at her as though she were a filthy hyena and called her an abomination. She was worse than the child, because she had produced him. Jondalar had learned more about the Clan since then, and he did not feel that way anymore, but what about his people, his family?

Her mind raced. What would his mother say if she knew that her son wanted to mate with a woman who was an abomination? Or Willamar, or Folara, or the rest of his family? Ayla looked at Jondalar, and though usually she could discern his feelings and know what he was thinking by interpreting his expression or his demeanor, this time she could not. She didn’t know what he would wish her to say.

She had been raised with the understanding that she had to answer a direct question with a truthful answer. Ayla had since learned that unlike the Clan, the Others, her kind of people, could say things that were not true. They even had a word for it. It was called a lie. For a moment, she actually thought about saying a lie, but what could she say? She was sure they would know it if she tried; she didn’t know how to lie. At most, she could refrain from mentioning, but it was hard not to reply when she was asked a direct question.

Ayla had always supposed that his people were bound to find out about Durc sometime. He was often in her thoughts, and she knew there would come a moment when she would forget or decide not to refrain from mentioning him. She didn’t want to avoid talking about Durc forever. He was her son. But this was not the time.

“I know about making baby food, Folara, because after Uba was born, Iza lost her milk early and she taught me how to make food that Uba could eat. A baby can eat anything its mother can eat if you make it soft and easy to swallow,” Ayla said. It was the truth, but it was not the whole truth. She refrained from mentioning her son.

“You do it like this, Lanoga,” Ayla said. “You pull the scraper across the meat. It gets the essence out and leaves the fibrous part behind. See? Now you try it.”

“What are you doing here?”

Ayla jumped with a start at the voice, then turned to face Laramar. “I’m showing Lanoga how to prepare some food that this baby can eat, since her mother has no more milk for her,” she said. She was sure she detected a look of surprise flit across his face. So he didn’t know, she thought.

“Why should you bother? I doubt that anyone else cares,” Laramar said.

Not even you, she thought, but held her tongue. “People care. They just didn’t know,” she said. “We only found out when Lanoga came and got Zelandoni because Bologan was hurt.”

“Bologan is hurt? What happened?”