“Then who do you expect to take care of the children of your hearth, Laramar?” Zelandoni said.
The man stopped and frowned. “For all I care, Jondalar can. There’s nothing he can give me that I want. He can’t give me back my face, and I can’t have the satisfaction of giving him what he gave me. He’s so eager to take care of things, to make amends, let him take care of that lazy, loud-mouthed, manipulating shrew and her brood,” Laramar said.
“He may owe you a lot, Laramar, but that’s too much to ask of a man who has a family of his own, to take on the responsibility of a family the size of yours,” Joharran said.
“Never mind, Joharran. I’ll do it,” Jondalar said. “If that’s what he wants, I’ll do it. If he isn’t going to take responsibility for his own hearth, someone has to. Those children need someone to care about them.”
“Don’t you think you should talk to Ayla about it first?” Proleva said from the audience. “That much responsibility will take away from her own family.” Not that they don’t already take more care of that family than either Laramar or Tremeda, the woman thought, but didn’t say aloud.
“No, Proleva. He’s right,” Ayla said. “I’m responsible, too, for what Jondalar did to Laramar. I didn’t realize what it would come to, but I’m just as much at fault. If taking on the responsibility for his family will satisfy Laramar, then we should do it.”
“Well, Laramar, is that what you want?” the First said.
“Yeah, if it will keep the rest of you off me, why not?” Laramar said, then he laughed. “You’re welcome to her, Jondalar.”
“What about you, Tremeda? Is that satisfactory to you?” Zelandoni said.
“Will he build me a new dwelling, like the one he’s making for her?” she asked, pointing at Ayla.
“Yes, I will make sure you have a new dwelling,” Jondalar said. “Do you want it made at the Ninth Cave or the Fifth?”
“Well, if I’m going to be your second woman, Jondalar,” she said, trying to be coy, “I might as well stay at the Ninth. That’s my home, anyway.”
“Hear me, Tremeda,” Jondalar said, looking directly at her. “I am not taking you as a second woman. I said I would assume the responsibility to provide for you and your children. I said I would build you a dwelling. That is the full extent of my obligation to you. I am doing this as reparation for the injury I did to your mate. In no way are you anything close to a second woman to me, Tremeda! Is that understood?”
Laramar laughed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Jondalar. I told you she was a manipulating shrew. She’ll use you any way she can.” He laughed again. “You know, maybe this isn’t going to be so bad. It just might give me some satisfaction to see you have to put up with her.”
“Are you sure you want to go swimming there, Ayla?” Jondalar asked.
“It was our place before you took Marona there, and it’s still the best place to swim, especially now when the river is so stirred up and muddy downstream. I haven’t had the chance for a good swim since I arrived, and we’ll be leaving soon,” Ayla said.
“But are you sure you’re strong enough to swim?”
“Yes, I am sure, but don’t worry. I plan to spend most of the time lying on the bank in the sun. All I want is to get out of this lodge and spend some time with you away from people for a while, now that I finally got Zelandoni to agree that I’m well enough,” Ayla said. “I was getting ready to get on Whinney and go someplace anyway before too long. I know she’s concerned, but I’m fine. I just need to get out and move around.”
Zelandoni had blamed herself for not paying close enough attention to Ayla and was being—rather uncharacteristically—overprotective. She felt more than a little responsible for the fact that they had almost lost the young woman, and she wasn’t going to let that happen again. Jondalar was in full agreement, and for a while Ayla enjoyed their unaccustomed close attention, but as she gained her strength back, she began to find such doting concern vexing. Ayla had been trying to convince the Donier that she was completely rested and strong enough to ride and swim again, but it wasn’t until the First wanted Wolf out of the way for a while that she finally agreed.
Jonayla and the youngsters her age were again involved with the zelandonia in preparations for a small part they would play in the farewell ceremonies that were being planned to close the Summer Meeting. Wolf was not only a distraction when all the children were together, making it hard for them to concentrate, but it was difficult for Jonayla to both control him and learn what she was supposed to do. When Zelandoni had intimated to Ayla that, while the wolf was certainly welcome, perhaps she could keep the animal with her, it had been the edge Ayla needed to persuade the Donier that she ought to take Wolf, and the horses, away from the Campsite for some exercise.
Ayla was anxious to leave as early as possible the next morning before Zelandoni changed her mind. Jondalar had watered and brushed the horses before the morning meal, and when he tied riding blankets on Whinney and Racer, and fitted halters on Racer and Gray, they knew they were going out, and pranced with anticipation. Though they didn’t plan to ride her, Ayla didn’t want to leave the young mare alone. She was sure Gray would be lonely if she were left behind; horses liked companionship, especially of their own kind, and Gray needed the exercise, too.
The wolf looked up with expectation when Jondalar picked up a pair of pack baskets made to hang across the back of a horse. The carriers were full of various implements and mysterious packages wrapped in pieces of the pale brown material woven from flax fibers that Ayla had made as training samplers, to pass the time while she was recovering. Marthona had arranged to have a small loom made and was teaching her to weave. One of the baskets was covered by a leather hide to spread out on the ground, and the other by the soft yellowish toweling skins that had been gifts of the Sharamudoi.
Wolf bounded on ahead when the man signaled that he could go with them as they left the lodge. Near the horse enclosure, Ayla stopped to pick a few ripe berries hanging from red-stemmed bushes. She brushed the round, powdery blue fruit against her tunic, noticed the deeper blue skin, then popped it in her mouth and, smiling with satisfaction, savored the sweet, juicy taste. As she climbed up on a stump to mount Whinney, she felt good just being outside, knowing she didn’t have to go back in the lodge right away. She was sure she knew every crack that cut through every painted or carved design on the sturdy wooden poles that supported the roof thatch, every smudge of soot that blackened the edges of the smoke hole. She wanted to look at sky and trees, and a lands
cape uncluttered with lodges.
As they started out, Racer was unusually boisterous and a bit fractious, and communicated some of his unruliness to the two mares, making them harder to handle. Once they got beyond the wooded area, Ayla slipped the halter off Gray so she could go at her own pace, and by tacit agreement, Ayla and Jondalar urged their mounts to a gallop and let them go at full speed. By the time the animals eased off of their own accord, they had worked off their excess energy and were more relaxed, but not Ayla. She was exhilarated. She had always loved riding fast, and after being kept close to camp, it was especially exciting.
They rode along at a more leisurely pace across a landscape contoured by the deep relief of high hills, limestone cliffs, and river-cut valleys. Though the noon sun was still hot most days, the season was turning. Mornings were often cool and crisp, and evenings overcast or rainy. Leaves were transforming their lush green of full summer into the yellows and occasional reds of autumn. The grasses of the open plains shaded from deep gold and rich brown to the pale yellow and grayish dun of the natural hay that would stand in the fields throughout most of the winter, but the leaves of certain forbs had turned to shades of red. Single plants or small clumps of the herbs suddenly appearing along their way stood out as bright spots of color that delighted Ayla, but it was the occasional south-facing wooded hillside that made her catch her breath with its dazzling display. From a distance, the colorful brush and trees gave an impression of large bouquets of bright flowers.
Gray was content to follow along riderless, stopping now and then to graze, and Wolf poked his nose into hillocks, pockets of brush, and patches of tall grass as he traced his own path of invisible scents and secret sounds. Their route traced a broad circle that eventually took them back toward the Meeting Campsite from the upstream direction of The River. But they didn’t return to camp. They cut in alongside the smaller waterway that wound through the woods to the north of the Ninth Cave’s camp and, near the time the sun reached its zenith, they found their way to the deep swimming hole at a sharp bend in the smaller stream. The trees provided dappled shade for the secluded beach of sandy gravel.
The sun felt pleasantly warm as Ayla lifted her leg over and slid down from Whinney. She unfastened the pack baskets and untied the riding blanket, and while Jondalar spread out the large hide, she pulled out a leather drawstring bag and hand-fed the dun-yellow mare some mixed grains, mostly oats, then gave her some affectionate strokes and scratches. After a few more handfuls she did the same for Gray, who had been nudging her for attention.
Jondalar fed and fondled Racer. The stallion was still more unmanageable than usual, though he calmed down with the food and handling, but Jondalar didn’t want to go after him if he decided to wander off. With a long rope attached to his halter, he hitched the horse to a small tree. Jondalar suddenly recalled that he had been considering letting the stallion go to find a place for himself with other horses on the open plains, and wondered if he should, but the man wasn’t ready yet to give up the company of the magnificent animal.
Wolf, who had been chasing his own whims, suddenly appeared from behind a screen of brush. Ayla had brought a meaty bone for him, but before she pulled it out of the pack basket, she decided to give him some attention, too. She tapped her shoulder and braced herself to receive the weight of the huge wolf as he jumped up on his hind legs and supported himself with his paws in front of her shoulders. He licked her neck, then gently held her jaw in his teeth. She returned the gesture in kind, then signaled him down, and hunkered in front of him, taking his head between her hands. She rubbed and scratched behind his ears and roughed up the thickening fur around his neck, then sat down on the ground and just hugged him. She knew the wolf had been there for her, too, as much as Jondalar, when she was recovering from her perilous Journey to the world of the spirits.