"If the spirits mixed as expected, he would have been three parts human, and only one part flathead," S'Armuna said.
Ayla suddenly thought of her son, Durc. Broud is bound to make his life difficult. What if he turns out like Brugar? But Durc is a full mixture, and he has Uba to love him, and Brun to train him. Brun accepted him into the Clan when he was leader and Durc was a baby. He will make sure Durc knows the ways of the Clan. I know he would be capable of talking, if there was someone to teach him, but he may also have the memories. If he does, he could be full Clan, with Brun's help.
S'Armuna had a sudden inkling about the mysterious young woman. "How do you know so much about flatheads, Ayla?" she asked.
The question caught Ayla by surprise. She wasn't on her guard, as she would have been with Attaroa, and she wasn't prepared to evade it. Instead she blurted out the truth. "I was raised by them," she said. "My people died in an earthquake and they took me in."
"Your childhood must have been even more difficult than Brugar's," S'Armuna said.
"No. I think in a way it was easier. I wasn't considered a deformed child of the Clan; I was just different. One of the Others – which is what they call us. They didn't have expectations of me. Some of the things I did were so strange to them that they didn't know what to think of me. Except I'm sure some of them did think I was rather slow because I had such a hard time remembering things. I'm not saying it was easy growing up with them. I had to learn to speak their way, and I had to learn to live according to their ways, learn their traditions. It was hard to fit in, but I was lucky. Iza and Creb, the people who raised me, loved me, and I know that without them I would not have lived at all."
Nearly all of her statements raised questions in S'Armuna's mind, but the time was not appropriate to ask them. "It is a good thing that you have no mixture in you," she said, giving Jondalar a significant look, "especially since you are going to meet the Zelandonii."
Ayla caught the look, and she had an idea what the woman meant. She recalled the way Jondalar had first reacted when he discovered who had raised her, and it was even worse when he found out about her son of mixed spirits.
"How do you know she hasn't met them already?" Jondalar asked.
S'Armuna paused to consider the question. How had she known? She smiled at the man. "You said you were going home, and she said, 'his language' not hers." Suddenly a thought came to her, a revelation. "The language! The accent! Now I know where I've heard it before. Brugar had an accent like that! Not quite as much as yours, Ayla, though he didn't speak his own language as well as you speak Jondalar's. But he must have developed that speech… mannerism – it isn't quite an accent – when he lived with the flatheads. There is something about the sound of your speech, and now that I hear it, I don't think I'll ever forget again."
Ayla felt embarrassed. She had worked so hard to speak correctly, but she had never been quite able to make some sounds. For the most part, it had ceased to bother her when people mentioned it, but S'Armuna was making such an issue of it.
The shaman noticed her discomfiture. "I'm sorry, Ayla. I don't mean to embarrass you. You really do speak Zelandonii very well, probably better than I do, since I've forgotten so much. And it isn't really an accent you have. It's something else. I'm sure most people don't even notice. It's just that you have given me such an insight into Brugar, and that helps me to understand Attaroa."
"Helps you to understand Attaroa?" Jondalar asked. "I wish I could understand how someone could be so cruel."
"She wasn't always so bad. I really grew to admire her when I first came back, although I felt very sorry for her, too. But in a way, she was prepared for Brugar as few women could have been."
"Prepared? That's a strange thing to say. Prepared for what?"
"Prepared for his cruelty," S'Armuna explained. "Attaroa was used badly when she was a girl. She never said much about it, but I know she felt her own mother hated her. I learned from someone else that her mother did abandon her, or so it was thought. She left and nothing was heard from her again. Attaroa was finally taken in by a man whose mate had died in childbirth, under very suspicious circumstances, the baby with her. The suspicions were borne out when it was discovered that he beat Attaroa and took her before she was even a woman, but no one else wanted responsibility for her. It was something about her mother, some question about her background, but it left Attaroa to be raised with and warped by his cruelty. Finally the man died, and some people of her Camp arranged for her to be mated to the new leader of this Camp."
"Arranged without her consent?" Jondalar asked.
"They 'encouraged' her to agree, and they brought her to meet Brugar. As I said, he could be very charming, and I'm sure he found her attractive."
Jondalar nodded agreement. He had noticed that she could have been quite attractive.
"I think she looked forward to the mating," S'Armuna continued. "She felt it would be a chance for a new beginning. Then she discovered the man with whom she had joined was even worse than the one she had known before. Brugar's Pleasures were always done with beatings, and humiliation, and worse. In his way, he did… I hesitate to say he loved her, but I think he did have feeling for her. He was just so… twisted. Yet she was the only one who dared to defy him, in spite of everything he did to her."
S'Armuna paused, shook her head, and then continued. "Brugar was a strong man, very strong, and he liked to hurt people, especially women. I really think he enjoyed causing women pain. You said the flatheads don't allow men to hit other men, though they can hit women. That might have something to do with it. But Brugar liked Attaroa's defiance. She was a good deal taller than he was, and she is very strong herself. He liked the challenge of breaking down her resistance, and he was delighted when she fought him. It gave him an excuse to hurt her, which seemed to make him feel powerful."
Ayla shuddered, recalling a situation not too dissimilar, and she felt a moment of empathy and compassion for the headwoman.
"He bragged about it to the other men, and they encouraged him, or at least they went along with him," the older woman said. "The more she resisted, the worse he made it for her, until she finally broke. Then he would want her. I used to wonder, if she had been complaisant in the beginning, would he have grown tired of her and stopped beating her?"
Ayla thought about that. Broud had grown tired of her when she stopped resisting.
"But somehow I doubt it," S'Armuna continued. "Later, when she was blessed and did stop fighting him, he didn't change. She was his mate, and as far as he was concerned, she belonged to him. He could do whatever he wanted to her."
I was never Broud's mate, Ayla thought, and Brun wouldn't let him beat me, not after the first time. Though it was his right, the rest of Bran's clan thought his interest in me was strange. They discouraged his behavior.
"Brugar didn't stop beating her, even when Attaroa became pregnant?" Jondalar asked, appalled.
"No, although he seemed pleased that she was going to have a baby," the woman said.
I became pregnant, too, Ayla thought. Her life and Attaroa's had many similarities.
"Attaroa came to me for healing," S'Armuna was continuing, closing her eyes and shaking her head as if to dispel the memory. "It was horrible, the things he did to her, I cannot tell you. Bruises from beatings were the least of it."
"Why did she put up with it?" Jondalar asked.
"She had no other place to go. She had no kin, no friends. The people of her other Camp had made it clear to her that they didn't want her, and at first she was too proud to go back and let them know that her mating to the new leader was so bad. In a way, I knew how she felt," S'Armuna said. "No one beat me, although Brugar did try it once, but I believed there was no other place for me to go, even though I do have relatives. I was the One Who Served the Mother, and I couldn't admit how bad things had become. It would have seemed that I had failed."