Plains of Passage (86 page)

Before she made their morning tea, Ayla added a little water to the soup that was left and put extra cooking stones in the fire to heat it for their breakfast. She also tasted the thickened apple mixture. Freezing had moderated the usual tart sourness of the hard apples and adding rose hips had imparted a reddish tinge and a tangy sweet flavor. She served a bowl to Jondalar along with his soup.

“This is the best food I’ve ever eaten!” Jondalar said after the first few bites. “What did you put in it to make it taste so good?”

Ayla smiled. “It’s flavored with hunger.”

Jondalar nodded, and between mouthfuls he said, “I suppose you’re right. It makes me feel sorry for the ones still in the Holding.”

“No one should have to go hungry when there is food available,” Ayla said, her anger flaring for a moment. “It’s another thing when everyone is starving.”

“Sometimes, near the end of a bad winter, that can happen,” Jondalar said. “Have you ever gone hungry?”

“I’ve missed a few meals, and favorite foods always seem to go first, but if you know where to look, you can usually find something to eat—if you are free to go looking!”

“I’ve known of people who starved because they ran out of food and didn’t know where to find more, but you always seem to find something to eat, Ayla. How do you know so much?”

“Iza taught me. I think I’ve always been interested in food and things that grow,” Ayla said, then paused. “I guess there was a time when I nearly starved, just before Iza found me. I was young, and I don’t remember much about it.” A fond smile of remembrance flitted across her face. “Iza said that she never knew anyone who learned to find food
as fast as I did, especially since I was not born with the memories of where or how to look for it. She told me that hunger taught me.”

After he finished devouring a second large serving, Jondalar watched Ayla sort through her carefully hoarded preserved food supplies and begin preparations for the dish she wanted to make for the feast. She had been thinking about what container she could cook in that would be large enough to make the amount she would need for the entire S’Armunai Camp, since they had cached most of their equipment and brought only bare essentials with them.

She took down their largest waterbag and emptied it into smaller bowls and cooking utensils, then separated the lining from the hide covering, which had been sewn together with the fur side out. The lining had been made from the stomach of an aurochs, which was not exactly waterproof, but seeped very slowly. The moisture was absorbed by the soft leather of the covering and wicked away by the hair, which kept the outside essentially dry. She cut open the top of the lining, tied it to a frame of wood with sinew from her sewing kit, then refilled it with water and waited until a thin film of moisture had seeped through.

By then the hot fire they had started earlier had burned down to searing coals, and she placed the mounted waterbag directly over them, making sure she had additional water close at hand to keep the skin pot filled. While she waited for it to boil, she started weaving a tight basket out of willow withes and yellowed grasses made flexible by moisture from the snow.

When bubbles appeared, she broke strips of lean dried meat and some fatty cakes of traveling food into the water to make a rich, meaty broth. Then she added a mixture of various grains. Later she planned to mix in some dry roots—wild carrots and starchy groundnuts—plus other pod and stem vegetables, and dried currants and blueberries. She flavored it all with a choice selection of herbs including coltsfoot, ram-sons, sorrel, basil, and meadowsweet, and a bit of salt saved since they left the Mamutoi Summer Meeting, which Jondalar didn’t even know she still had.

He had no desire to go very far, and he stayed nearby gathering wood, getting more water, picking grasses, and cutting willow withes for the baskets she was weaving. He was so happy to be with her that he didn’t want to let her out of his sight. She was just as happy to be in his company again. But when the man noticed the large quantity of their food supplies she was using, he became concerned. He had just been through a very hungry time and was unusually aware of food.

“Ayla, a lot of our emergency food stores are in that dish. If you use up too much, it could leave us short.”

“I want to make enough for all of them, the women and the men of Attaroa’s Camp, to show them what they could have in their own storage if they work together,” Ayla explained.

“Maybe I should take my spear-thrower and see if I can find fresh meat,” he said with a worried frown.

She glanced up at him, surprised at his concern. By far, the majority of the food they had eaten on their Journey had been gleaned from the land they passed through, and most of the time, when they did dip into their stores, it was more for convenience than necessity. Besides, they had more food supplies stashed away with the rest of their things near the river. She looked at him closely. For the first time, she noticed that he was thinner, and she began to understand his uncharacteristic misgivings.

“That might be a good idea,” she agreed. “Maybe you should take Wolf with you. He’s good at finding and flushing out game, and he could warn you if anyone was near. I’m sure Epadoa and Attaroa’s Wolf Women are looking for us.”

“But if I take Wolf, who will warn you?” Jondalar said.

“Whinney will. She’ll know if strangers are approaching. But I would like to leave here as soon as this is done and head back to the S’Armunai settlement.”

“Will you be very long?” he asked, his forehead knotted deeper as he weighed his alternatives.

“Not too long, I hope, but I’m not used to cooking this much at one time, so I’m not sure.”

“Maybe I should wait, and go hunting later.”

“It’s up to you, but if you stay here, I could use more wood,” she said.

“I’ll get you some wood,” he decided. Looking around, he added, “And I’ll pack up everything you’re not using so we’ll be ready to go.”

It took Ayla longer than she expected, and around midmorning, Jondalar did take Wolf to survey the area, more to make sure that Epadoa was not nearby than to look for game. He was a little surprised at how eager the wolf was to accompany him … once Ayla told him to go. He had always thought of the animal as hers alone and never considered taking Wolf along with him. The animal turned out to be good company, and he did flush something, but Jondalar decided to let him make a meal of the rabbit by himself.

When they came back, Ayla handed Jondalar a large hot serving of the delicious mixture she had prepared for the Camp. Though they usually ate no more than twice a day, as soon as he saw the bowl piled high with food, he realized that he was very hungry. She took some herself and gave a little to Wolf as well.

It was just after noon before they were ready to leave. While the
food was cooking, Ayla had completed two rather steep-sided bowl-shaped baskets, both of good size but one somewhat larger than the other, and both were filled with the thick, rich combination. She had even added some oily pine nuts from the cones of the stone pines. She knew with their diet of mostly lean meat, it was the richness of fats and oils that would be most appealing to the people of the Camp. She also knew, without entirely understanding why, that it was what they needed the most, especially in winter, for warmth and energy and, along with the grains, to make everyone feel fall and satisfied.

Ayla covered the heaping bowls with inverted shallow baskets used as lids, lifted them to Whinney’s back, and secured them in a roughly made holder of dry grass and willow withes that she had worked together quickly, since it would be used only once and then disposed of. Then they started back to the S’Armunai settlement, using a different route. On the way they discussed what to do with the animals once they reached Attaroa’s Camp.

“We can hide the horses in the woods by the river. Tie them to a tree and walk the rest of the way,” Jondalar suggested.

“I don’t want to tie them. If Attaroa’s hunters happened to find them, they’d be too easy to kill,” Ayla said. “If they are free, at least they have a chance to get away, and they’ll be able to come when we whistle. I would rather have them close by, where we can see them.”

“In that case, the field of dry grass next to the Camp might be a good place for them. I think they would stay there without being tied. They usually stay close by if we put them where they have something to graze,” Jondalar said. “And it would make a big impression on Attaroa and the S’Armunai if we both ride horses into the Camp. If they’re like everyone else we’ve met, the S’Armunai are probably a little afraid of people who can control horses. They all think it has to do with spirits or magical powers or something, but as long as they’re afraid, it gives us an edge. With only two of us, we need every advantage we can get.”

“That’s true,” Ayla said, frowning, both because of her concerns for them and the animals, and because she hated the thought of taking advantage of the unfounded fears of the S’Armunai. It made her feel as if she were lying, but their lives were at stake, and very likely the lives of the boys and men in the Holding.

It was a difficult moment for Ayla. She was being required to make a choice between two wrongs, but she was the one who had insisted that they return to help, even though it put their own lives in jeopardy. She had to overcome her ingrained compulsion to be absolutely truthful; she had to choose the lesser wrong, to adapt, if they were to have any chance of saving the boys and men of the Camp, and themselves, from the madness of Attaroa.

“Ayla,” Jondalar said. “Ayla?” he repeated, when she had not responded to his question.

“Uh … yes?”

“I said, what about Wolf? Are you going to take him into the Camp, too?”

She paused to think about it. “No, I don’t think so. They know about the horses, but they don’t know about a wolf. Considering what they like to do with wolves, I don’t see any reason why we should give them an opportunity to get too close to him. I’ll tell him to stay in hiding. I think he will, if he sees me once in a while.”

“Where will he hide? It’s mostly open country around the settlement.”

Ayla thought for a moment. “Wolf can stay where I was hiding when I watched you, Jondalar. We can go around from here to the uphill side. There are some trees and brush along a small stream leading up to the place. You can wait for me there with the horses; then we can go back around and ride into the Camp from another direction.”

   No one noticed them entering the field from the fringe of woods, and the first ones who saw the woman and man, each on a separate horse, cantering across the open land toward the settlement, had the feeling that they had simply appeared. By the time they reached Attaroa’s large earthlodge, everyone who could had gathered to watch them. Even the men in the Holding were crowded behind the fence watching through the cracks.

Attaroa stood with her hands on her hips and her legs apart, assuming her attitude of command. Though she would never admit it, she was shocked and more than a little concerned to see them, and this time both on horses. The few times that anyone had ever gotten away from her, he had run as far and as fast as he could. No one had ever voluntarily come back. What power did these two possess that they felt confident enough to return? With her underlying fear of reprisal from the Great Mother and Her world of spirits, Attaroa wondered what the reappearance of the enigmatic woman and the tall, handsome man might signify, but her words showed none of her worry.

“So you did decide to come back,” she said, looking to S’Armuna to translate.

Jondalar thought the shaman seemed surprised, too, but he sensed her relief. Before she translated Attaroa’s words into Zelandonii, she spoke to them directly.

“No matter what she says, I would advise you not to stay in her lodge, son of Marthona. My offer is still open to both of you,” she said before repeating Attaroa’s comment.

The headwoman eyed S’Armuna, sure she had spoken more words than were necessary to translate. But without knowing the language, she couldn’t be sure.

“Why shouldn’t we come back, Attaroa? Weren’t we invited to a feast in our honor?” Ayla said. “We have brought our contribution of food.”

As her words were translated, Ayla threw her leg over and slid down from Whinney’s back, then lifted the largest bowl and set it on the ground between Attaroa and S’Armuna. She picked up the basket cover, and the delicious aroma from the huge mound of grains cooked with other foods made everyone stare in wonder as their mouths watered. It was a treat they had seldom enjoyed in recent years, especially in winter. Even Attaroa was momentarily overwhelmed.

“There seems to be enough for everyone,” she said.

“That is only for the women and children,” Ayla said. Then she took the slightly smaller woven bowl that Jondalar had just brought and put it down beside the first. She lifted the lid and announced, “This is for the men.”

A murmuring undercurrent arose from behind the fence, and from the women who had come out of their lodges, but Attaroa was furious. “What do you mean, for the men?”

“Certainly when the leader of a Camp announces a feast in honor of a visitor, it includes all the people? I presumed that you were the leader of the entire Camp, and that I was expected to bring enough for all. You are the leader of everyone, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am the leader of everyone,” Attaroa sputtered, caught at a loss for words.

“If you aren’t ready yet, I think I should take these bowls inside, so they don’t freeze,” Ayla said, picking up the larger bowl again and turning toward S’Armuna. Jondalar took the other.

Attaroa quickly recovered. “I invited you to stay in my lodge,” she said.

“But I’m sure you are busy with preparations,” Ayla said, “and I would not want to impose on the leader of this Camp. It is more appropriate for us to stay with the One Who Serves the Mother.” S’Armuna translated, then added, “It is the way it is always done.”

Ayla turned to go, saying to Jondalar under her breath, “Start walking toward S’Armuna’s lodge!”

As Attaroa watched them go with the shaman, a smile of pure evil slowly altered her features, turning a face that could have been beautiful into a hideous, subhuman caricature. They were stupid to come back here, she thought, knowing that their return had given her the opportunity she wanted: her chance to destroy them. But she also knew
she would have to catch them off guard. When she thought about it, she was glad to let them go with S’Armuna. It would get them out of the way. She wanted time to think and discuss plans with Epadoa, who had not yet returned.