The Valley of Horses (12 page)

Thonolan spoke up. “I think he’s saying she was testing you, Jondalar. She knew the customs were not the same, and she wanted to see how you would react when she dishonored …”

“Dishonor, yes,” Tamen interrupted, hearing the word.

“Haduma … know not all man, good man. Want know Zelandonii man dishonor Mother.”

“Listen, that’s a very special donii,” Jondalar said, a little indignant, “It’s very old. My mother gave it to me—it’s been handed down for generations.”

“Yes, yes.” Tamen nodded vigorously. “Haduma know. Wise … much wise. Long time live. Big magic, make bad luck go. Haduma know Zelandonii man, good man. Want Zelandonii man. Want … honor Mother.”

Jondalar saw the grin lighting up Thonolan’s face, and squirmed.

“Haduma want,” Tamen pointed to Jondalar’s eyes, “blue eyes. Honor Mother. Zelandonii … spirit make child, blue eyes.”

“You did it again, Big Brother!” Thonolan blurted, grinning with malicious delight, “With those big blue eyes of yours. She’s in love!” He was shaking, trying to hold his laughter in, afraid it might offend, but unable to stop. “Oh, Mother! I can hardly wait to get back home and tell them. Jondalar, the man every woman wants! Do you still want to go back? For this, I’d give up the end of the river.” He couldn’t talk anymore. He was doubled over, pounding the ground, holding his sides and trying not to laugh out loud.

Jondalar swallowed several times. “Ah … I … um … does Haduma think the Great Mother … ah … could still … bless her with a child?”

Tamen looked at Jondalar, perplexed, and at Thonolan’s contortions. Then a big grin cracked his face. He spoke to the old woman, and the whole camp erupted into raucous laughter, the old woman’s cackle heard above all. Thonolan, with a heave of relief, let out a great whoop of glee as tears squeezed out of his eyes.

Jondalar did not see anything funny.

The old man was shaking his head, trying to talk. “No, no, Zelandonii man.” He beckoned to someone. “Noria, Noria …”

A young woman stepped forward and smiled shyly at Jondalar. She was hardly more than a girl, but showed the fresh sparkle of new womanhood. The laughter finally subsided.

“Haduma big magic,” Tamen said. “Haduma bless. Noria five … generations.” He held up five fingers. “Noria make child, make … six generations.” He held up another finger.

“Haduma want Zelandonii man … honor Mother …”

Tamen smiled as he remembered the words, “First Rites.”

The worry lines on Jondalar’s forehead smoothed out, and the beginnings of a smile turned up the corners of his mouth.

“Haduma bless. Make spirit go Noria. Noria make … baby, Zelandonii eyes.”

Jondalar exploded with laughter, as much with relief as pleasure. He looked at his brother. Thonolan was not laughing anymore. “Do you still want to go home and tell everyone about the old hag I bedded?” he asked. He turned to Tamen. “Please tell Haduma it will be my pleasure to honor the Mother and share Noria’s First Rites.”

He smiled warmly at the young woman. She smiled back, tentatively at first, but, bathed in the unconscious charisma of his vivid blue eyes, her smile grew.

Tamen spoke to Haduma. She nodded, then motioned for Jondalar and Thonolan to stand, and looked the tall blond man over carefully again. The warmth of his smile still lingered, and when Haduma looked into his eyes, she chuckled softly and went into the large circular tent. The people were still laughing and talking about the misunderstanding as the crowd broke up.

The two brothers stayed to talk to Tamen; even his limited ability to communicate was better than none at all.

“When did you visit the Zelandonii?” Thonolan asked. “Do you remember what Cave it was?”

“Long time,” he said. “Tamen young man, like Zelandonii man.”

“Tamen, this is my brother, Thonolan, and my name is Jondalar, Jondalar of the Zelandonii.”

“You … welcome, Thonolan, Jondalar.” The old man smiled. “I, Tamen, three generation Hadumai. No talk Zelandonii long time. Forget, No talk good. You talk, Tamen … ?”

“Remember?” Jondalar suggested. The man nodded. “Third generation? I thought you were Haduma’s son,” Jondalar added.

“No.” He shook his head. “Want make Zelandonii man know Haduma, mother.”

“My name is Jondalar, Tamen.”

“Jondalar,” he corrected. “Tamen not Haduma son. Haduma make daughter.” He held up one finger with a questioning look.

“One daughter?” Jondalar said. Tamen shook his head.

“First daughter?”

“Yes, Haduma make first daughter. Daughter make first son.” He pointed to himself. “Tamen. Tamen … mate?” Jondalar nodded. “Tamen mate to mother, Noria mother.”

“I think I understand. You are the first son of Haduma’s first daughter, and your mate is Noria’s grandmother.”

“Grandmother, yes. Noria make … big honor Tamen … six generation.”

“I am honored, too, to be chosen for her First Rites.”

“Noria make … baby, Zelandonii eyes. Make Haduma … happy.” He smiled remembering the word. “Haduma say big Zelandonii man make … big … strong spirit, make strong Hadumai.”

“Tamen,” Jondalar said, his forehead knotted. “Noria might not make a baby of my spirit, you know.”

Tamen smiled. “Haduma big magic. Haduma bless, Noria make. Big magic. Woman no children. Haduma …” He pointed with a finger toward Jondalar’s groin.

“Touch?” Jondalar provided the word, feeling his ears warm.

“Haduma touch, woman make baby. Woman no … milk. Haduma touch, woman make milk. Haduma make Jondalar … big honor. Many man want Haduma touch. Make long time man. Make man … pleasure?” They all smiled. “Pleasure woman, all time. Many woman, many time. Haduma big magic.” He paused, and his face lost its smile. “No make Haduma … anger. Haduma bad magic, anger.”

“And I laughed,” Thonolan said. “Do you suppose I could get her to touch me? You and your big blue eyes, Jondalar.”

“Little Brother, the only magic touch you ever needed was the inviting look of a pretty woman.”

“So. I never noticed you needing help. Look who’s sharing First Rites? Not your little brother with his dull gray eyes.”

“Poor little brother. A camp full of women and he’s going to spend the night alone. Not on your life.” They laughed, and Tamen, who caught the drift of the banter, joined in.

“Tamen, maybe you’d better tell me about your customs for First Rites,” Jondalar said, more serious.

“Before you get into that,” Thonolan said, “can you get our spears and knives back? I’ve got an idea. While my brother is busy beguiling that young beauty with his big blue eyes, I think I know a way to make your angry hunter happier.”

“How?” Jondalar asked.

“With a grandmother, of course.”

Tamen looked confused, but he shrugged it off as problems with the language.

Jondalar saw little of Thonolan that evening or the next day; he was too busy with the purification rituals. The language was a barrier to understanding even with Tamen’s help, and when he was alone with the scowling older women, it was worse. Only when Haduma was there did he feel more relaxed, and he was sure she smoothed over some unforgivable blunders.

Haduma didn’t rule the people, but it was obvious they would refuse her nothing. She was treated with benevolent reverence and a little fear. It had to be magic that she had lived so long and retained her full mental faculties. She had a knack for sensing when Jondalar was in difficulty. On one occasion, when he was sure he had unknowingly broken some taboo, she waded in, eyes flashing anger, and beat the backs of several retreating women with her staff. She would brook no opposition to him; her sixth generation would have Jondalar’s blue eyes.

In the evening, when he was finally led to the large circular structure, he wasn’t even sure it was time, until he went inside. As he stepped through the entrance, he paused to look around. Two stone lamps, with bowl-shaped wells filled with fat in which wicks of dried moss burned, lit one side. The ground was covered with furs and the walls were hung with bark-cloth weavings in intricate patterns. Behind a raised platform covered with furs hung the thick white fur of an albino horse decorated with the red heads of immature great spotted woodpeckers. Sitting on the very edge of the platform was Noria, nervously staring down at her hands in her lap.

On the other side, a small section was partitioned off with hanging leather hides marked with esoteric symbols, and a screen of thongs—one of the hides cut into narrow strips. Someone was behind the screen. He saw a hand move a few of the strips aside, and looked into Haduma’s wrinkled old face for a brief moment. He breathed a sigh of relief. There was always at least one guardian, to bear witness that a girl’s transformation to full womanhood was complete, and to make sure a man wasn’t unduly rough. As a strnger, he had felt some concern that there might be a bevy of disapproving
guardians. With Haduma he felt no qualms. He didn’t know if he should greet her or ignore her, but he decided on the latter when the screen closed.

When Noria saw him, she stood up. He walked toward her, smiling. She was rather small, with soft, light brown hair hanging loosely around her face. She was barefoot, and a skirt of some woven fiber was tied at the waist and fell to below her knees in colorful bands. A shirt of soft deerskin embroidered with dyed quills was laced together tightly up the front. It conformed to her body enough to reveal that her womanhood was well established, though she had not lost all her girlish roundness.

She got a frightened look in her eye as he approached, though she tried to smile. But when he made no sudden moves, just sat down on the edge of the platform and smiled, she seemed to relax a little, and sat down beside him, far enough away so that their knees did not touch.

It would help if I could speak her language, he thought. She’s so scared. No wonder, I’m a total stranger to her. Appealing, so frightened like that. He felt protective, and a few twinges of excitement. He noticed a carved wooden bowl and some drinking cups on a nearby stand and started to reach, but Noria saw his intention and jumped up to fill the cups.

As she gave him a cup of amber liquid, he touched her hand. It startled her. She pulled it back a little, then left it. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, then took the cup and drank. The liquid had the sweet, strong taste of something fermented. Not unpleasant, but he wasn’t sure how strong it was, and decided to drink lightly.

“Thank you, Noria,” he said, putting the cup down.

“Jondalar?” she asked, looking up. By the light of the stone lamps he could tell her eyes were a light shade, but he wasn’t sure if they were gray or blue.

“Yes, Jondalar. Of the Zelandonii.”

“Jondalar … Zelandonyee man.”

“Noria, Hadumai woman.”

“Wo-man?”

“Woman,” he said, touching one firm young breast. She jumped back.

Jondalar untied the lace at the neck of his tunic and pulled it back, showing a chest of light curls. He smiled a wry grin and touched his chest, “No woman.” He shook his head. “Man.”

She giggled a little.

“Noria woman,” he said, slowly reaching toward her breast again. This time she let him touch without pulling back, and her smile was more relaxed.

“Noria woman,” she said, then got a mischievous glint in her eye, and pointed a finger toward his groin, but didn’t touch. “Jondalar man.” Suddenly she looked frightened again, as though she might have gone too far, and got up to refill the cups. She scooped out the liquid nervously, spilling some, and seemed embarrassed. Her hand shook holding the cup to him.

He steadied her hand, took the cup and sipped, then offered her a drink. She nodded, but he held the cup to her mouth so that she had to cup her hands around his to tip it up to drink. When he put the cup down, he reached for her hands again, opened her palms, and kissed each one lightly. Her eyes opened wide with surprise, but she didn’t pull back. He moved his hands up her arms, then bent closer and kissed her neck. She was tense, with anticipation as well as fear, waiting to see what he would do next.

He moved closer, kissed her neck again, and his hand slipped down to cup one breast. Though she was still afraid, she was beginning to feel her own responses to his touch. He tilted her head back, kissing her neck, flicked his tongue along her throat, and reached to untie the lace at her neck. Then he moved his lips up to her ear and along her jaw, and found her mouth. He opened his, and moved his tongue between her lips, and, when they parted, he exerted gentle pressure to open them more.

Then he backed off holding her shoulders, and smiled. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth was still open, and she was breathing faster. He kissed her again, cupping a breast, then reached up to pull the lace out of one hole. She stiffened a little. He stopped and looked at her, then smiled and deliberately pulled the lace out of another hole. She sat stiffly unmoving, looking up at his face as he pulled the lace out of yet another hole, and then another, until the deerskin shirt hung loosely, open all down the front.

He bent down to her neck as he pushed the shirt back to bare her shoulders and reveal her upright young breasts with their swollen areolas, and felt his manhood throb. He kissed her shoulders with open mouth and moving tongue and felt her quiver, and caressed her arms as he pushed her shirt off. He ran his hands up her spine, and his tongue down her
neck and chest, circled her areola, felt her nipple contract, and sucked gently. She gasped but didn’t pull away. He suckled the other breast, ran his tongue back up to her mouth and, as he kissed her, pushed her back.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him from the furs. Her eyes were dilated and luminous. His were so deeply blue and compelling that she could not look away. “Jondalar man, Noria woman,” she said.

“Jondalar man, Noria woman,” he said huskily, then sat up and pulled his tunic over his head, feeling the surge as his manhood strained to burst free. He bent over her, kissed her again, and felt her open her mouth to taste his tongue with hers. He caressed her breast and ran his tongue down her neck and shoulder. He found her nipple again, sucking harder as he heard her moan, and felt his own breath heaving faster.