The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [214]
Ayla noticed that Jonokol was paying very close attention to the words of the Seventh, and thought it might be because he wanted to learn how to please the Mother so she would stay close to the white cave. He never said it in so many words, but she knew he considered it his special Sacred Cave. She did, too.
Someone had put cooking rocks in the fire previously and were now taking them out with bentwood tongs, and dropping them into a tightly woven container of water. Then the Seventh added the contents of a leather pouch to the steaming water. The scent pervaded the area and Ayla tried to identify the ingredients. She thought it was a mixture, some of which seemed familiar, but some not at all. Overlying everything else was a strong odor of mint, which she thought might have been added to disguise the smell of some other ingredient or to mask an unpleasant odor or taste. After the tea had steeped for a while, the Seventh dipped some out into two cups, one larger than the other.
“This is a powerful drink,” the Seventh said. “I have tried it once, and I will be very careful before using very much of it again. It can take you very close to the world of the spirits, but I think everyone can have a taste, if you are careful not to take too much. One of my acolytes has offered to drink a larger dosage so that she can be a way in, a conduit for us.”
The larger cup was passed around and each one there took a small drink. When it reached the First, she smelled it first, then took a small sip and rolled it around in her mouth, trying to distinguish the elements. Then she took a slightly larger taste, and passed it on to Ayla. She had observed the First closely, and did the same thing. It was very potent. The scent alone was strong and made her feel a bit dizzy. The sip filled her mouth with a powerful taste that wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but wasn’t something she would want to drink every day like a normal cup of tea, and the small taste that she swallowed almost made her feel faint. She wished she knew what the ingredients were.
After tasting, everyone watched as the Seventh’s acolyte drank the small cupful. It wasn’t long before she was on her feet, weaving unsteadily toward the entrance to the Sacred Cave. The Seventh quickly got up to offer a hand to help her keep her balance. The rest of the zelandonia present followed them into the Sacred Cave, several of them carrying lit torches. They allowed the First, along with Ayla and Jonokol, to go ahead. Although it was quite a long way in, the acolyte went almost directly to the area of the cave where the painted horses that enclosed the large dots were. Several of those with torches went close to the wall to shine light on them.
Ayla was still feeling the effects of her small taste of the drink and wondered what sensations the acolyte who had drunk much more was experiencing. The young woman went to the panel and put both hands on it, then got in close and laid her cheek against the rough stone as though she was trying to get inside it. Then she began to cry. Her Zelandoni put his arm around her shoulders to calm her. The First took a few steps toward her and then began to sing the Mother’s Song.
Out of the darkness, the chaos of time,
The whirlwind gave birth to the Mother sublime.
She woke to Herself knowing life had great worth,
The dark empty void grieved the Great Mother Earth.
The Mother was lonely. She was the only.
Everyone listened, and Ayla could feel a tension in her shoulders that she didn’t know was there begin to ease. The young acolyte stopped crying, and after a while when they picked up the tune of the music, others joined in, especially when they got to the part where she sang about Her bringing forth the children of earth from her womb.
Each child was different, some were large and some small,
Some could walk and some fly, some could swim and some crawl.
But each form was perfect, each spirit complete,
Each one was a model whose shape could repeat.