The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [366]
“Jondalar!” Joharran said again, and shook his shoulder.
“What?” Jondalar said.
“Come on, they are serving the food.”
“Oh,” the younger brother said, his mind still whirling as he stood up.
“What do you think it all means?” Joharran asked as they started walking.
“Did you see where Ayla went?” Jondalar said, still oblivious to everything except his own thoughts.
“I haven’t seen her, but I imagine she’ll join us before long. It was quite a ceremony. It took a lot of work and planning. Even the zelandonia need to relax and eat once in a while,” Joharran said. They walked a few steps. “What do you think that meant, Jondalar? That last verse to the Mother’s Song?”
Jondalar finally turned to look at his brother. “It meant what it said, ‘man has his part.’ It’s not just women who are Blessed. No new life can begin without a man.”
Joharran frowned, showing the furrows on his brow that matched his brother’s. “Do you really think so?”
Jondalar smiled. “I know so.”
As they approached the area where the Ninth Cave had gathered to feast, various strong drinks were being handed out. Someone put watertight woven cups in both Joharran’s and Jondalar’s hands. They took a taste, but it wasn’t what either expected.
“What’s this?” Joharran said. “I thought it would be Laramar’s brew. It’s nice, but it’s rather light.”
It was familiar to Jondalar, and he tasted again. Where had he tasted this before? “Ah! The Losadunai!”
“What?” Joharran said.
“This is the drink the Losadunai serve at their Mother Festivals. It tastes light, but don’t underestimate it,” Jondalar warned. “This is potent. It sneaks up on you. Ayla must have made it. Did you see where she went after the ceremony?”
“I thought I saw her a while ago coming out of the ceremonial tent. She had her regular clothes on,” Joharran said.
“Did you see which direction she went?”
“There she is. Over there, where they are serving more of that new drink.”
Jondalar headed toward a sizable group of people milling around a large kerfed box, dipping out cups of liquid. When he saw Ayla, she happened to be standing next to Laramar. She handed him a cup she had dipped. He said something, and she laughed, then smiled at him.
Laramar looked surprised, then leered in response. Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all, he thought. She had always been so standoffish before, hardly ever said a word to him. But she is Zelandoni now; they are supposed to honor the Mother at festivals. This may turn out to be an interesting festival. Suddenly Jondalar appeared. Laramar frowned with disappointment.
“Ayla,” Jondalar said. “I need to talk to you. Let’s get away from here.” He took her arm and tried to walk toward a less crowded place.
“Is there some reason you can’t talk right here? I’m sure I’ll be able to hear you. I haven’t suddenly gone deaf,” Ayla said, pulling her arm away.
“But I need to talk to you alone.”
“You had plenty of opportunity to talk to me alone before, but you couldn’t be bothered. Why is it suddenly so important now? This is the Mother Festival. I’m going to stay here and enjoy myself,” she said, turning to smile rather suggestively at Laramar.
He forgot. In his excitement about his new depth of understanding, Jondalar forgot. Suddenly it all came back to him. She had seen him with Marona! And it was true, he hadn’t spoken to her since then. Now she didn’t want to talk to him. Ayla saw his face turn white. He reeled, as if someone had hit him, and stumbled away. He looked so beaten and confused, she almost called him back, but bit her tongue to keep from speaking.
Jondalar walked around in a daze, lost in his own thoughts. Someone put a cup of something in his hand. He drank it without thinking. Someone else filled it again. She was right, he thought. He’d had plenty of time to talk to her, to try to explain things to her. Why hadn’t he done it? She had come looking for him, and found him with Marona. Why hadn’t he gone looking for her? Because he was ashamed and afraid he’d lost her. What was