"The other boy is seven years?" Jondalar said, shaking his head and shuddering with horror. "I have never heard of anything so terrible."
"Odevan is in pain, and he misses his mother, but Ardoban's story is worse." It was S'Amodun who spoke. He had left the lean-to and just joined the group.
"It's hard to imagine anything worse," Jondalar said.
"I think he suffers more from the pain of betrayal than from the physical pain," S'Amodun said. "Ardoban thought of Attaroa as his mother. His own mother died when he was young and Attaroa took him in, but she treated him more like a favored plaything than a child. She liked to dress him in girl's clothes and adorn him with silly things, but she fed him well, and she often gave him special tidbits. She even cuddled him, sometimes, and took him to her bed to sleep with her when she was in the mood. But when she got tired of him, she'd push him out and make him sleep on the ground. A few years ago, Attaroa began to think people were trying to poison her."
"They say that's what she did to her mate," Olamun interjected.
"She made Ardoban taste everything before she ate it," the old man continued, "and when he got older, she tied him up, sometimes, convinced he was going to run away. But she was the only mother he knew. He loved her and tried to please her. He treated the other boys the same way she treated the men, and he began telling the men what to do. Of course, she encouraged him."
"He was insufferable," Ebulan added. "You'd think the whole Camp belonged to him, and he made the other boys' lives miserable."
"But what happened?" Jondalar asked.
"He reached the age of manhood," S'Amodun said. Then, seeing Jondalar's puzzled look, he explained. "The Mother came to him in his sleep in the form of a young woman and brought his manhood to life."
"Of course. That happens to all young men," Jondalar said.
"Attaroa found out," S'Amodun explained, "and it was as though he had purposely turned into a man just to displease her. She was livid! She screamed at him, called him terrible names, then banished him to the Men's Camp, but not before she had his leg dislocated."
"With Odevan, it was easier," Ebulan said. "He was younger. I'm not even sure if they originally intended to tear his joint loose. I think they just wanted to make his mother and her mate suffer by listening to his screams, but once it happened, I think Attaroa thought it would be a good way to disable a man, make him easier to control."
"She had Ardemun as an example," Olamun said.
"Did she dislocate his leg, too?" Jondalar asked.
"In a way," S'Amodun said. "It was an accident, but it happened when he was trying to get away. Attaroa would not allow S'Armuna to help him, although I believe she wanted to."
"But it was harder to disable a boy of twelve years. He fought and screamed, but it did no good," Ebulan said. "And I will tell you, after listening to his agony, no one here could be angry with him any more. He more than paid for his childish behavior."
"Is it true that she has told the women that all children, including the one that is expected, if they are boys, will have their legs dislocated?" Olamun asked.
"That's what Ardemun said," Ebulan confirmed.
"Does she think she can tell the Mother what to do? Force Her to make only girl babies?" Jondalar asked. "She is tempting her fate, I think."
"Perhaps," Ebulan said, "but it will take the Mother Herself to stop her, I'm afraid."
"I think the Zelandonii may be right," S'Amodun said. "I think the Mother has already tried to warn her. Look how few babies have been born in the last several years. This latest outrage of hers, injuring children, may be more than She will stand for. Children are supposed to be protected, not harmed."
"I know Ayla would never stand for it. She wouldn't stand for any of this," Jondalar said. Then, remembering, he frowned and lowered his head. "But I don't even know if she's alive."
The men glanced at each other, hesitant to speak, though they all thought the same question. Finally Ebulan found his voice. "Is that the woman you claimed could ride on the backs of horses? She must be a woman of great powers if she can control horses like that."
"She wouldn't say so." Jondalar smiled. "But I think she has more 'power' than she will acknowledge. She doesn't ride all horses. She only rides the mare that she raised, although she has ridden my horse, too. But he's a little harder to control. That was the problem…"
"You can ride horses, too?" Olamun said in tones of disbelief.
"I can ride one… well; I can ride hers, too, but…"
"Are you saying that the story you told Attaroa is true?" Ebulan said.
"Of course it's true. Why would I make up something like that?" He looked at the skeptical faces. "Maybe I'd better start at the beginning. Ayla raised a little filly…"
"Where did she get a filly?" Olamun asked.
"She was hunting and killed its dam, and then she saw the foal."
"But why would she raise it?" Ebulan asked.
"Because it was alone, and she was alone… and that's a long story," Jondalar sidestepped, "but she wanted company and decided to take in the filly. When Whinney grew up – Ayla named the horse Whinney – she gave birth to a colt, just about the time we met. She showed me how to ride and gave me the colt to train. I named him Racer. That's a Zelandonii word that means a fast runner, and he likes to run fast. We have traveled all the way from the Mamutoi Summer Meeting, around the southern end of those mountains to the east, riding those horses. It really doesn't have anything to do with special powers. It's a matter of raising them from the time they are born, just like a mother would take care of a baby."
"Well… if you say so," Ebulan said.
"I say so because it's true," Jondalar countered, then decided it was worthless to pursue the subject. They would have to see it to believe it, and it was unlikely that they ever would. Ayla was gone, and so were the horses.
Just then the gate opened and they all turned to see. Epadoa entered first along with a few of her women. Now that he knew more about her, Jondalar studied the woman who had actually caused such great pain to the two children. He wasn't sure who was more of an abomination, the one who conceived of the idea or the one who carried it out. Though he had no doubt that Attaroa would have done it herself, it was evident that something was wrong with her. She was not whole. Some dark spirit must have touched her and stolen a vital part of her being – but what about Epadoa? She seemed sound and whole, but how could she be and still be so cruel and unfeeling? Was she also lacking some essential part?
To everyone's surprise, Attaroa herself came in next.
"She never comes in here," Olamun said. "What can she want?" Her unusual behavior frightened him.
Behind her came several women carrying steaming trays of cooked meat along with tightly woven baskets of some delicious-smelling rich and meaty soup. Horsemeat! Have the hunters returned? Jondalar wondered. He hadn't eaten horsemeat for a long time, the thought of it didn't usually appeal to him, but at that moment it smelled delicious. A large, full waterbag with a few cups was also carried in.
The men watched the arriving procession avidly, but none of them moved anything except his eyes, afraid to do anything that might cause Attaroa to change her mind. They feared that it might be another cruel trick, to bring it in and show them and then take it away.