Chapter 39
"How about telling stories, Zelandoni of West Holding? The Story-Tellers are here," suggested a young man sitting beside her.
"Stories may detract from the seriousness of the ceremony, Zelandoni of North Holding," the Zelandoni of the Twenty-ninth said.
Of course, you're right, Zelandoni of Three Rocks," the young man said quickly. He seemed rather deferential toward the primary Zelandoni of the Twenty-ninth Cave. Ayla realized that the four Zelandonia of the Twenty-ninth referred to each other by a name of their respective sites rather than their counting words. It made sense, since they were all Zelandonia of the Twenty-ninth Cave. What a confusing situation, she thought, but they seem to be making it work.
"Then have someone talk about a serious matter," said the Zelandoni of South Holding.
He was the one who had asked the First if Ayla was here about the animals, and the South Holding was Reflection Rock, which housed the Cave led by Denanna. She was the one that Ayla felt viewed her, or perhaps the horses and wolf, with some animosity, but his tone had not seemed unfriendly. She would wait and see.
"Joharran wants to bring up the matter of flatheads and whether or not they are people," Zelandoni of the Eleventh said. "That is a very serious matter."
"But some people won't like to hear such ideas, and are liable to get argumentative. We don't want to start this Summer Meeting with contentious feelings. That could make them quarrelsome about everything," Zelandoni Who Was First said. "We have to create a receptive mood before new ideas about flatheads are broached."
Ayla wondered if it was appropriate for her to comment. "Zelandoni," she finally said, "could I make a suggestion?" Everyone turned to look, and she didn't think all the zelandonia were pleased.
"Of course you can, Ayla," Zelandoni Who Was First said.
"Jondalar and I visited the Losadunai on our way here. We gave the Losaduna and his mate a few firestones...for the whole Cave...they were so kind and helpful..." Ayla hesitated.
"Yes?" Zelandoni encouraged.
"When they made a ceremony to introduce the firestones, they made two hearths," Ayla continued. "One was all set to light, but cold. The other was burning. They put that one out completely. It was suddenly so dark, you couldn't see the person sitting next to you, and it was easy to see that not a single coal in the first hearth gave even a hint of a glow. Then I lit the fire in the second hearth."
There was silence for only a moment. "Thank you, Ayla," Zelandoni said. "I think that's a good idea. Perhaps we can do something like it. It could be a very impressive demonstration."
"Yes, I like that," Zelandoni of the Third said. "That way we could have the ceremonial fire from the beginning."
"And a cold fireplace ready to be lit would make people curious. They'd wonder what it was for, and that would build up some antic.i.p.ation," Zelandoni of the West Holding of the Twenty-ninth said.
"How should we put the fire out? Douse it with water and make a lot of steam?" the Eleventh said. Or dump dirt on it and make it go out instantly?"
Or dump mud on it?" one of the others, whom Ayla hadn't met, suggested. "Create a little steam, but kill the coals."
"I like the idea of using water and making lots of steam," said another one that Ayla didn't know. "That would be more impressive."
"No, I think putting it out instantly would be more impressive. Light one moment, dark the next."
She hadn't met all the Zelandonia who were there, and as the discussion became more animated, they didn't always address one another as formally, and she wasn't able to identify them. She'd had no idea how much planning and consultation went into a ceremony. She always thought that the events just happened spontaneously, that the zelandonia and others who dealt with the spirit world were just agents of those invisible forces. They spoke out freely, and she began to appreciate why some had objected to her presence, but as they discussed each little detail, Ayla's mind began to stray.
She wondered if the mog-urs of the Clan planned their ceremonies with as much detail, then realized that they probably did, but it would not have been quite the same. Clan ceremonies were ancient, and were always done the way they had always been done, or as close to it as possible. She understood a little more now what a dilemma it must have been when Creb, The Mog-ur, wanted her to take a significant part in one of their most sacred ceremonies.
She looked around the large round summer lodge of the zelandonia. The double-walled circular construction of vertical panels that enclosed the s.p.a.ce was similar to the sleeping lodges at the camp of the Ninth Cave, but larger. The movable interior panels that divided the interior into separate areas had been stacked in between sleeping places near the outer walls, creating a single large room. She noticed that the sleeping places were cl.u.s.tered together in one location and that they were all raised, and she recalled that they were also raised in Zelandoni's lodge at the Ninth Cave. She wondered why, then thought that it was probably because when they were used by patients that had to be brought to the zelandonia lodge, it was easier to tend to them.
The ground was covered with mats, many of them woven with intricate and beautiful patterns, and various pads, pillows, and stools used for seating were scattered around near several low tables of various sizes. Most of them were graced with oil lamps usually made of sandstone or limestone that were, as a rule, lit day and night inside the windowless shelter, many with multiple wicks. Most of the lamps were carefully shaped, smoothed, and decorated, but like the lamps in Marthona's dwelling, some were crude stones with naturally formed or roughly pecked-out depressions for the melted tallow. Near many of the lamps she saw small carvings of women, propped up in woven bowls of sand. They were all similar, yet different. She had seen several like them and knew they were representations of the Great Earth Mother, what Jondalar called donii.
The donii ranged in size from about four inches to eight inches in height, but each one could be held in a hand. There was some abstraction and exaggeration. The arms and hands were barely suggested, and the legs tapered together with no real feet so the woman figure could be stuck into the ground, or a bowl of sand, and stand upright. It was not a carving of a particular person, there were no features to give ident.i.ty, though the body may have been suggested by a woman known to the artist. She was not a high-breasted, nubile young woman, at the beginning of her adult life, nor was hers the lean figure of a woman who walked every day, a peripatetic wanderer constantly foraging for food.
A donii depicted a richly obese woman with some experience in living. She was not pregnant, but she had been. Her broad b.u.t.tocks were matched by huge b.r.e.a.s.t.s that hung down over the large, somewhat drooping stomach of a woman who had given birth to and nurtured several children. She had the ample figure of an experienced older woman, a mother, but her shape suggested much more than the fertility of procreation. In order for a woman to be fat, food had to be plentiful and she had to lead a fairly sedentary life. The small carved figure was meant to look like a well-fed, successful
The reality was not too far off. Some years were worse than others, but most of the time, the Zelandonii managed fairly well. There were fat women in the community; the carver of the figures had to know how a fat woman looked to depict her in such faithful detail. Late spring, when the food stored for winter was nearly gone and the new plants had barely sprouted, could be a lean time. The same was true for animals; in spring, they were scrawny and thin, and their meat was stringy and tough with so little fat, even the marrow in their bones was depleted. Then, the people may have done without certain foods, but they did not starve, at least not usually.
To those who lived off the land, hunted and foraged for everything they required to survive, the earth was like a great mother who nourished her children. She gave them what they needed. They did not plant seeds, tend crops, cultivate or water the land, and they did not herd animals, protect them from predators, gather feed for them for winter. Everything was theirs for the taking, if they knew where to look and how to harvest. But they could not take it for granted, because sometimes it was withheld.
Each donii they carved was a receptacle for the spirit of the Great Earth Mother, and a manifest demonstration to inform the unseen forces that controlled their lives what they needed to survive. She was sympathetic magic, meant to show the Mother what they wanted, and therefore extract it from Her. The donii was a representation of the hope that edible plants would be profuse and easy to find and gather, that the animals would be abundant and easily hunted. She was a symbol of and a plea for an earth that was generous, a land that was rich, food that was plentiful, and life that was good. The donii was an idealized figure, an evocation of the conditions that they earnestly desired.
"I would like to thank Ayla..."
She was startled out of her daydreaming when she heard the sound of her name. She couldn't even remember what she was thinking about.
"...for her willingness to show this new way of making fire to all the zelandonia, and for her patience with some of us who took a little longer to learn," the One Who Was First said.
There were many voices in agreement, even the Zelandoni of the Fourteenth Cave seemed to be genuine in her appreciation. Then they began to discuss the details of the rest of the ceremony to start off this year's Summer Meeting, and other ceremonial occasions coming up, particularly the mating ceremony known as the Matrimonial. Ayla wished they would talk more about that, but primarily they talked about when they would meet again to discuss it further. Then the focus of the meeting s.h.i.+fted to the acolytes.
Zelandoni Who Was First stood up. "It is the zelandonia who keep the History of the people." She looked at the zelandonia-in-training, the acolytes, but Ayla felt that Zelandoni seemed to make a special point of including her.
"Part of an acolyte's training is the memorization of the Elder Legends and the Histories. They explain who the Zelandonii are and where the People come from. Memorizing also helps one to learn, and there are many things an acolyte must learn. Let us finish this gather with Her Legend, the Mother's Song."
She paused and her eyes seemed to look inward, dredging up from the recesses of her own mind a story that she had committed to memory long ago. It was the most important of all the Elder Legends, because it was the one that told of the beginnings. To make the legends easy to remember, they were told in rhyme and meter, and to make the stories that were required to be memorized even easier to recall, melody was often added by those who had the talent to compose music, which other people enjoyed learning. Some of the songs were ancient and so familiar that the sound of the melody was often enough to recall the story.
Zelandoni Who Was First, however, had created a melody of her own composition for the Mother's Song, and many people were starting to learn it. She began to sing, a cappella, in a pure, strong, beautiful voice.
"Out of the darkness, the chaos of time, The whirlwind gave birth to the Mother sublime.
She woke to Herself knowing life had great worth, The dark empty void grieved the Great Mother Earth."
"The Mother was lonely She was the only."
Ayla felt a chill of recognition as the First began and joined in with the rest when they spoke or sang the last line in unison with the One Who Was First.
"From the dust of Her birth She created the other, A pale s.h.i.+ning friend, a companion, a brother.
They grew up together, learned to love and to care, And when She was ready they decided to pair."
"Around Her he'd hover. Her pale s.h.i.+ning lover."
Ayla remembered the last line of the second verse, too, and said it with the others, but then she listened through several more verses, trying to hear the words, saying what she remembered under her breath. She wanted to memorize it exactly because she loved this story, and she loved the way the First sang it. Just the sound of her voice almost brought tears to her eyes. Though she knew she would never learn to sing it, she wanted to learn the words. She had learned the Losadunai version on their Journey, but the language, the meter, and some of the story were different. She wanted to learn the story in Zelandonii and listened carefully.
"The dark empty void and the vast barren Earth, With antic.i.p.ation, awaited the birth.Life drank from Her blood, it breathed from Her bones.
It split Her skin open and sundered Her stones."
"The Mother was giving. Another was living."
Jondalar had repeated a few lines to her while they were traveling, but she had never heard anything like the resonance and full dramatic power with which the First Among Those Who Served The Mother brought to it. His words had not been exactly the same, either "Her gus.h.i.+ng birth waters filled rivers and seas, And flooded the land, giving rise to the trees.
From each precious drop more gra.s.s and leaves grew, And lush verdant plants made all the Earth new."
"Her waters were flowing. New green was growing.""In violent labor spewing fire and strife, She struggled in pain to give birth to new life.
Her dried clotted blood turned to red-ochred soil, But the radiant child made it all worth the toil."
"The Mother's great joy. A bright s.h.i.+ning boy.""Mountains rose up spouting flames from their crests, She nurtured Her son from her mountainous b.r.e.a.s.t.s.
He suckled so hard, the sparks flew so high, The Mother's hot milk laid a path through the sky."
"His life had begun. She nourished Her son."
This was one of the parts she especially loved. It reminded her of her own experience, especially the part about it being all worth it because of her great joy, her wonderful boy.
"He stole from Her side as the Great Mother slept, While out of the dark swirling void chaos crept.
With tempting inducements the darkness beguiled.
Deceived by the whirlwind, chaos captured Her child."
"The dark took Her son. The young brilliant one."
Just as Broud had taken her son. Zelandoni told the story so well, Ayla found herself feeling anxious for both the Mother and Her son. She was leaning forward, not wanting to miss a word.
"And Her luminous friend was prepared to contest, the thief who held captive the child of Her breast.
Together they fought for the son She adored.
Their efforts succeeded, his light was restored."
"His energy burned. His brilliance returned."
Ayla let out a deep breath and looked around. She wasn't alone in being caught up in the story. Everyone's rapt attention was focused on the large woman.
"The Great Mother lived with the pain in Her heart, That She and Her son were forever apart.
She ached for the child that had been denied, So She quickened once more from the life-force inside."
"She was not reconciled. To the loss of Her child."
Tears were running down Ayla's face, and she felt a sudden clenching ache for her own son that she had been forced to leave behind with the Clan, and a deep empathie sorrow for the Mother.
"When She was ready Her waters of birth, Brought back the green life to the cold barren Earth.
And the tears of Her loss, abundantly spilled, Made dew drops that sparkled and rainbows that thrilled."
"Birth waters brought green. But Her tears could be seen."
Ayla was sure she would never again be able to think, of morning dew or rainbows the way she had before. From this time on, they would always remind her of the Mother's tears.
"With a thunderous roar Her stones split asunder, And from the great cave that opened deep under,She birthed once again from Her cavernous room, And brought forth the Children of Earth from Her womb."
"From the Mother forlorn, more children were born."
The next part was not so sad, but it was interesting. It explained how things were now, and why.
"They all were Her children, they filled Her with pride, But they used up the life-force She carried inside.
She had enough left for a last innovation, A child who'd remember Who made the creation."
"A child who'd respect. And learn to protect.""First Woman was born full-grown and alive, And given the Gifts she would need to survive.
Life was the First Gift, and like Mother Earth, She woke to herself knowing life had great worth."
"First Woman defined. The first of her kind."
Ayla looked up and noticed Zelandoni watching her. She glanced at the other people around her and when she looked back, Zelandoni's gaze had s.h.i.+fted.
"The Mother remembered Her own loneliness, The love of Her friend and his hovering caress.
With the last spark remaining, Her labor began, To share life with Woman, She created First Man."
"Again She was giving. One more was living.""To Woman and Man the Mother gave birth, And then for their home, She gave them the Earth, The water, the land, and all Her creation, To use them with care was their obligation."
"It was their home to use. But not to abuse.""For the Children of Earth the Mother provided, The Gifts to survive, and then She decided, To give them a Gift of Pleasure and sharing,That honors the Mother with the joy of their pairing."
"The Gifts are well-earned. When honor's returned.""The Mother was pleased with the pair She created, She taught them to love and to care when they mated.
She made them desire to join with each other, the Gift of their Pleasures came from the Mother."
"Before She was through. Her children loved too.
Earth's Children were blessed. The Mother could rest."
Ayla felt a little confused about the two lines at the end. It broke the established pattern, and she wondered if something was wrong or missing. When she looked at Zelandoni, the woman was staring at her, which made her uncomfortable. She looked down, but when she glanced back up, Zelandoni was still watching her.
After the meeting broke up, Zelandoni fell into stride beside Ayla. "I have to go to the camp of the Ninth Cave, do you mind if I walk with you?" she said.
"No, of course not," Ayla said.
They walked in companionable silence at first. Ayla was still feeling overwhelmed by the legend, and Zelandoni was waiting to see what she would say.
"That was beautiful, Zelandoni," Ayla finally said. "When I lived at the Lion Camp, sometimes everyone would make music and sing, or dance, together, and some of them had beautiful voices, but none as beautiful as yours."
"It is a Gift of the Mother. I didn't do anything to make it happen, I was born with it. The Legend of the Mother is called the Mother's Song, because some people like to sing it," Zelandoni said.
"Jondalar told me a little of the Mother's Song while we were on our Journey. He said he couldn't remember it all, but some of his words were not exactly the same as yours," Ayla said.
"That's not unusual. There are slightly different versions. He learned from the old Zelandoni, I memorized my mentor's song. Some of the zelandonia make slight revisions. It's perfectly all right, as long as it doesn't change the meaning, and keeps the rhythm and rhyme. If they feel right, people tend to adopt them. If not, they are forgotten. I made up my own song because it pleased me, but there are other ways to sing it."
"I think most people sing the same song as you do, but what do the words 'rhythm and rhyme' mean? I don't think Jondalar ever explained them to me," Ayla said.
"I don't suppose he would. Singing and Story-Telling are not his greatest skills, though he has become much better at telling about his adventures."