The clan of the cave bear_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [38]
She had hardly considered Crug’s fire. Ika, his mate and the mother of Borg, was an open, friendly young woman. That was just the trouble, they were both so young, and Iza had never gotten along very well with Dorv, the old man who had been the mate of Ika’s mother, who shared their fire.
That left Brun, and she could not even be second woman at his hearth; he was her sibling. Not that it mattered, she had her own status. At least she wasn’t like the poor old woman who had finally found her way to the world of the spirits during the earthquake. She had come from another clan, her mate had died long before, she never had any children, and had been traded off from fire to fire, always a burden; a woman with no status, no value.
But the possibility of sharing a hearth with Creb, of his providing for her hadn’t even entered her mind. There was no one in the clan of whom she was fonder, man or woman. He even likes Ayla, she thought, I’m sure of it. It’s a perfect arrangement—unless I have a boy. A boy needs to live with a man who can train him to be a hunter, and Creb can’t hunt.
I could take the medicine to make me lose it, she thought for a moment. Then I could be sure I wouldn’t have a boy. She patted her stomach and shook her head. No, it’s too late, there could be problems. She realized she wanted the baby, and despite her age, her pregnancy had progressed without difficulty. The chances were good that the child would be normal and healthy, and children were too precious to give up lightly. I will ask my totem again to make the baby a girl. He knows I’ve wanted a girl all along. I promised I’d take care of myself so the baby he allowed to start would be healthy, if only he’d make it a girl.
Iza knew women of her years could have problems, and she ate foods and medicines that were helpful to pregnant women. Though never a mother, the medicine woman knew more about pregnancy, delivery, and nursing than most women. She had helped deliver all the youngsters in the clan and she dispensed her knowledge with her medication freely to the women. But there was some magic, passed down from mother to daughter, that was so secret, Iza would have died before revealing it, especially to a man. Any man who found out about it would never permit its use.
The secret had been kept only because no one, man or woman, asked a medicine woman about her magic. The custom of avoiding direct queries was so long-standing, it had become tradition, almost law. She could share her knowledge if someone indicated an interest, but Iza never discussed her special magic because if a man had thought to ask, she could not have refused to answer—no woman could refuse to answer a man—and it was impossible for people of the Clan to lie. Their form of communication, dependent for subtle nuance on barely perceptible changes in expressions, gestures, and postures, made any attempt immediately detectable. They didn’t even have a concept for it; the closest they could come to untruth was to refrain from speaking, and that was usually discerned, though often allowed.
Iza never mentioned the magic she had learned from her mother, but she had been using it. The magic prevented conception, prevented the spirit of a man’s totem from entering her mouth to start a child. It never occurred to the man who had been her mate to ask her why she had not conceived a child. He assumed her totem was too strong for a woman. He often told her so and bemoaned the fact to the other men as the reason his totem’s essence was not able to overcome hers. Iza used the plants to prevent conception because she wanted to shame