There was a movement at the entrance. Ayla felt a cool breeze and realized how hot she was. Everyone looked to see who was coming. Rugie and Tusie clambered down, followed by Tronie holding Nuvie.
"I had to nurse Hartal," Tronie announced. "Tornec wanted to take him for a sweatbath, and I didn't want him fussing."
Were men not allowed here, not even male babies? Ayla wondered.
"Are all the men in the sweatbath, Tronie? Maybe I should get Rydag," Nezzie said.
"Danug took him in. I think the men decided they wanted all the males this time," Tronie said. "Even the children."
"Frebec took Tasher and Crisavec," Tusie mentioned.
"It's about time he started taking more interest in those boys," Crozie grumbled. "Isn't that the only reason you joined with him, Fralie?"
"No, Mother. That's not the only reason."
Ayla was surprised. She'd never heard Fralie disagree with her mother before, even mildly. No one else seemed to notice. Maybe in here, with only the women, Fralie didn't have to worry about seeming to take sides. Crozie was sitting back with her eyes closed; it was amazing how much her daughter resembled her. In fact, she resembled her too much. Except for a stomach big with pregnancy, Fralie was so thin she looked almost as old as her mother, Ayla noticed. Her ankles were swollen. That was not a good sign. She wished she could examine her, then realized she might be able to, in here.
"Fralie, ankles swell much?" Ayla asked, somewhat hesitantly. Everyone sat up, waiting for Fralie's reply, as though they all suddenly realized what had just occurred to Ayla. Even Crozie watched her daughter without saying a word.
Fralie looked down at her feet, seeming to examine her swollen ankles, considering. Then she looked up. "Yes. They've been swollen lately," she said.
Nezzie breathed an audible sigh of relief, which everyone else felt.
"Still sick in morning?" Ayla asked, leaning forward.
"I wasn't sick this long with the first two."
"Fralie, will let me… look at you?"
Fralie looked around at the women. No one said a word. Nezzie smiled, and nodded at her, silently urging her to agree.
"All right," Fralie said.
Ayla quickly got up, looked at her eyes, smelled her breath, felt her forehead. It was too dark to see much, and it was too hot in the sweatbath to judge fever. "Will lie down?" Ayla asked.
Everyone moved out of the way to make a place for Fralie to stretch out. Ayla felt, and listened, and examined with thoroughness and obvious knowledge, while everyone else watched with curiosity.
"Sick more than morning, I think," Ayla said, when she was through. "I fix something, help make food not come up. Help feel better. Help swelling. Will take?"
"I don't know," Fralie said. "Frebec watches everything I eat. I think he's worried about me, but he won't admit to it. He'll ask where it came from."
Crozie was sitting, tight-lipped, obviously biting back words she wanted to say, fearing if she said them, Fralie might take Frebec's side and refuse Ayla's help. Nezzie and Tulie exchanged glances. It wasn't like Crozie to exercise so much self-restraint.
Ayla nodded. "I think I know way," she said.
"I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm ready to clean up and go out," Deegie said. "How would a quick plunge in the snow feel right now, Ayla?"
"I think good. I am hot."
17
Jondalar opened the drape that hung closed in front of the bed platform he shared with Ayla, and smiled. She was sitting cross-legged in the middle, naked, her skin pink and glowing, brushing her wet hair.
"I feel so good," she said, smiling back. "Deegie said I would love it. Did you like the sweatbath?"
He climbed in beside her, letting the drape fall. His skin was pink and glowing, too, but he had finished dressing and had just combed his hair and tied it in a club at the back of his neck. The sweatbath had felt so refreshing he had even considered shaving, but just trimmed his beard instead.
"I always enjoy them," he said. Then he couldn't resist. He took her in his arms, kissed her, and began caressing her warm body. She responded willingly, giving herself up to his embrace, and he heard a soft moan when he bent to take a nipple in his mouth.
"Great Mother, woman, you are tempting," he said as he pulled back. "But what will people say when they start arriving at the Mammoth Hearth for your adoption, and find us sharing Pleasures instead of being dressed and ready?"
"We could tell them to come back later," she answered with a smile.
Jondalar laughed out loud. "I believe you would, wouldn't you?"
"Well, you gave me your signal, didn't you?" she said with a mischievous grin.
"My signal?"
"You remember. The signal a man gives a woman when he wants her? You said I'd always know, then you kissed me and touched me like that. Well, you just gave me your signal, and when a man gives her the signal, a woman of the Clan never refuses."
"Is it really true she never refuses?" he asked, still not quite able to believe it.
"That's what she is taught, Jondalar. That's how a proper woman of the Clan behaves," she answered, with a perfectly matter-of-fact seriousness.
"Hmmm, you mean the choice is mine? If I said let's stay here and share Pleasures, you'd make everyone wait?" He was trying to be serious, but his eyes twinkled with delight at what he considered their private joke.
"Only if you give me the signal," she replied, in the same vein.
He took her in his arms and kissed her again, and feeling her warm skin and warmer response, he was almost tempted to find out if she was joking or if she really meant it but, reluctantly, he let her go.
"It's not what I'd rather do, but I think I'd better let you get dressed. People will be here before long. What are you going to wear?"
"I don't really have anything, except some Clan wraps, and the outfit I've been wearing, and an extra pair of leggings. I wish I did. Deegie showed me what she's going to wear. It's so beautiful – I've never seen anything like it. She gave me one of her brushes, after I started to brush my hair with teasel," Ayla said, showing Jondalar the stiff mammoth-hair brush, tightly wrapped around one end with rawhide to form the handle, giving it the shape of a wide, tapering paint brush. "She gave me some strings of beads and shells, too. I think I'll wear them in my hair, like she does."
"I'd better let you finish getting ready," Jondalar said, opening the drape to leave. He leaned over to kiss her again, then got up. After the leather drape closed, he stood looking at it for a moment, and a frown creased his brow. He wished he could have stayed with her and not had to worry about other people. When they were in her valley they could do what they wanted whenever they wanted to. And she wouldn't be getting ready to be adopted by people who lived so far from his home. What if she wanted to stay here? He had a sinking feeling that after this night, nothing would ever be the same.
As he turned to go, Mamut caught his eye, and beckoned him. The tall young man walked toward the tall old shaman.
"If you are not busy, I could use your help," Mamut said.
"I'd be glad to help. What can I do?" Jondalar asked.
From the back of a storage platform, Mamut showed him four long poles. On close inspection, Jondalar realized they were not wood, but solid ivory; curved mammoth tusks that had been shaped and straightened. Then the old man gave him a large, hailed, stone maul. Jondalar stopped to examine the heavy hammerlike tool since he had not seen one quite like it before. It was completely covered with hide. He could feel that a circular groove had been nicked around the large stone, and a flexible willow withe wrapped around the groove, then bound to a bone handle. The entire maul had then been wrapped with wet, unprocessed hide, which had only been scraped clean. The rawhide shrunk tight as it dried, encasing both stone maul and handle in hard, tough leather, thus holding them firmly together.