Ayla and Jondalar stood up with the wolf between them, while the people watched with some trepidation, not sure what to expect next. Several of them looked toward S'Armuna. She stepped toward the visitors, eying the wolf warily.
"We are finally free of her," she said.
Ayla smiled; she could see the woman's anxiety. "Wolf won't hurt you," she said. "He attacked only to protect me."
S'Armuna noticed that Ayla didn't translate the name of the animal into Zelandonii, and she sensed that the word was used as a personal name for the animal. "It is appropriate that her end should come from a wolf. I knew you were here for a reason. We are no longer clutched in her grip, held by her madness," the woman said. "But what do we do now?" The question was rhetorical, spoken more to herself than to any of the listeners.
Ayla looked down at the still body of the woman who had only moments before been so malevolently, but vibrantly alive, and it made her conscious of how fragile a thing life was. Except for Wolf, it could have been her lying dead on the ground. She shuddered at the thought. "I think someone should take this headwoman away and prepare her for burial." She spoke in Mamutoi so that more people would understand without the need for translation.
"Does she deserve burial? Why not throw her body to the carrion eaters?" It was a male voice that had spoken.
"Who speaks?" Ayla asked.
Jondalar knew the man who stepped forward, somewhat hesitantly. "I am called Olamun."
Ayla nodded in recognition. "You have a right to feel angry, Olamun, but Attaroa was driven to violence by the violence done to her. The evil in her spirit is eager to carry it on, to leave you with a legacy of her violence. Give it up. Don't let your rightful anger make you fall prey to the trap her restless spirit has set. It is time to break the pattern. Attaroa was human. Bury her with the dignity she was not able to find in life, and let her spirit rest."
Jondalar was surprised by her response. It was the kind of answer a Zelandoni might make, wise and restrained.
Olamun nodded with acquiescence. "But who will bury her? Who will prepare her? She has no kin," he said.
"That is the responsibility of the One Who Serves the Mother," S'Armuna said.
"Perhaps with the help of those who followed her in this life," Ayla suggested. The body was obviously too heavy for the older woman to handle alone.
Everyone turned to face Epadoa and the Wolf Women. They seemed to press together as though to draw strength from each other.
"And then follow her to the next world," another male voice said. There were shouts of agreement from the crowd, and a surge toward the women hunters. Epadoa stood her ground, brandishing her spear.
Suddenly one young Wolf Woman stepped away from the others. "I never asked to be a Wolf Woman. I just wanted to learn to hunt so I wouldn't have to be hungry."
Epadoa glared at her, but the young woman looked back defiantly.
"Let Epadoa find out what it's like to be hungry," the male voice said again. "Let her go without food until she reaches the next world. Then her spirit will be hungry, too."
The people surging toward the hunters, and toward Ayla, brought a warning snarl from Wolf. Jondalar quickly knelt to quiet him, but his reaction did have the effect of making the people back away. They looked at the woman and the animal with some trepidation.
Ayla didn't ask who had spoken that time. "Attaroa's spirit still walks among us," Ayla said, "encouraging violence and revenge."
"But Epadoa must pay for the evil she has done." Ayla saw the mother of Cavoa stepping forward. Her young, pregnant daughter stood just behind her, offering moral support.
Jondalar got up and stood beside Ayla. He could not help thinking that the woman had a right to retribution for the death of her son. He looked to S'Armuna. The One Who Served the Mother ought to be answering, he thought, but she, too, was waiting for Ayla to reply.
"The woman who killed your son has already gone to the next world," Ayla said. "Epadoa should pay for the evil she has done."
"She has more than that to pay for. What about the harm she did to these boys?" It was Ebulan who spoke. He stood back to let Ayla see two youngsters leaning on a cadaverous old man.
Ayla was startled when she saw the man; for an instant she thought she was looking at Creb! He was tall and thin, where the holy man of the Clan had been short and stocky, but his craggy face and dark eyes held the same kind of compassion and dignity, and he obviously commanded the same kind of esteem.
Ayla's first thought was to offer him the Clan gesture of respect by sitting at his feet and waiting for him to tap her shoulder, but she knew the action would be misunderstood. Instead, she decided to offer him the regard of formal courtesy. She turned to the tall man beside her.
"Jondalar, I cannot properly address this man without an introduction," she said.
He was quick to understand her sensitivity. He, too, had felt awed by the man. He stepped forward and led Ayla to him. "S'Amodun, most respected of the S'Armunai, may I introduce Ayla, of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi, Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth, Chosen by the spirit of the Cave Lion, and Protected by the Cave Bear."
Ayla was surprised that Jondalar had added the last part. No one had ever named the Cave Bear as her protector, but when she considered it, she thought it might be true, at least through Creb. The Cave Bear had chosen him – it was the totem of Mog-ur – and Creb had been in her dreams so much that she was sure he was guiding and protecting her, perhaps with the help of the Great Cave Bear of the Clan.
"S'Amodun of the S'Armunai welcomes the Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth," the old man said, holding out both of his hands. He was not alone in singling out the Mammoth Hearth as the most impressive of her relationships. Most of the people there understood the importance of the Mammoth Hearth to the Mamutoi; it named her the equivalent of S'Armuna, One Who Served the Mother.
The Mammoth Hearth, of course, thought S'Armuna. It cleared up many questions she'd had. But where was her tattoo? Weren't those accepted to the Mammoth Hearth marked with a tattoo?
"I am happy you welcome, Most Respected S'Amodun," Ayla said, speaking in S'Armunai.
The man smiled. "You have learned much of our language, but you just said something twice. My name is Amodun. S'Amodun means 'Most Respected, Amodun,' or 'Greatly Honored,' or whatever you think of to mean singled out for special notice," he said. "It is a title imposed by the will of the Camp. I am not sure why I have earned it."
She knew why. "I thank you, S'Amodun," Ayla said, looking down and nodding with gratitude. Up close, he reminded her even more of Creb, with his deep, dark, luminous eyes, prominent nose, heavy brows, and generally strong features. She had to consciously overcome her Clan training – women were not supposed to stare directly at men – to look up and talk to him. "I would ask you a question," she said, speaking in Mamutoi, in which she was more fluent.
"I will answer if I can," he replied.
She looked at the two boys who stood on either side of him. "The people of this Camp want Epadoa to pay for the evil she has done. These boys, in particular, have suffered great harm at her hands. Tomorrow I will see if I can do anything to help them, but what retribution should Epadoa pay for carrying out the wishes of her leader?"
Involuntarily most people glanced at the body of Attaroa, still sprawled where Wolf had left her; then their eyes were drawn to Epadoa. The woman stood straight and unflinching, ready to accept her punishment. In her heart, she had known that someday she would have to pay.