The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [388]
“I’ve never made a mistake like that with the medicines in my bag. I was careless. So careless, I lost my baby,” Ayla said, as though she hadn’t even heard the First.
“Because you don’t make those kind of mistakes is all the more reason to believe it was Her will. Whenever She calls someone to Serve Her, it is always unexpected, and the first time that one goes to the Spirit World alone is especially dangerous. Many never find their way back. Some leave something behind, as you did. It is always dangerous, Ayla. Even if you have gone there many times, you never know if this is the time that you will not find your way back.”
Ayla was quietly sobbing, the tears glistening on her cheeks.
“It’s good that you are letting go. You’ve held it in for too long, and you need to grieve for that baby,” the Donier said. She got up, took both cups, and went to the back, where the bandaging skins were stored. When she returned, she poured more tea. “Here,” she said, handing her the soft animal hide, and put the tea on the table.
Ayla wiped her eyes and her nose, took a deep breath to settle herself, then took a sip of the warmish tea, struggling to get herself under control again. It was more than losing the baby that had caused her tears, although that had been the catalyst. She couldn’t seem to do anything right. Jondalar had stopped loving her, people hated her, and she had been so careless that she lost her baby. She had heard Zelandoni’s words, but she didn’t fully comprehend and it didn’t change how she felt.
“Perhaps now you can understand why I’m so interested in those roots you talk about,” the First said when it seemed that Ayla was feeling better. “If the experience can be carefully watched and controlled, we may have another helpful way to reach the Next World when we need to, like this mixture in the pouch, and some other herbs we sometimes use.”
Ayla didn’t hear her at first. When Zelandoni’s words finally reached her, she recalled that she had never wanted to experiment with those roots again. Though The Mog-ur had been able to control the effects of the powerful substance, she was sure she would never be capable of it. She believed only a Clan mind, with its unique differences, and the Clan memories, could control it. She didn’t think anyone born to the Others could ever control the black void, no matter how well they were watched.
She knew that the First was fascinated. Mamut had been intrigued, too, about the special plants used only by the mog-urs of the Clan, but after their dangerous experience together, Mamut had said he would never use them again. He told her he was afraid he would lose his spirit in that paralyzing black void, and had warned her against them. Reliving the terrifying journey to that menacing unknown place when she was deep in the cave, and vividly recalling it during her initiation, made the memory too disturbingly fresh. And she knew that even her unnerving recollection was only a faint shadow of the real experience.
Yet, in the black despair of her present state of mind, she wasn’t thinking clearly. She should have had time to regain her balance, but too much had happened too fast. Her ordeal in the cave when she was called, including the miscarriage, had weakened her both physically and emotionally. The pain and the jealousy, and the disappointment, of finding Jondalar with another woman were intensified by her experience in the cave, and by her loss. She had been looking forward to the knowing touch of his hands and the closeness of his body, to the thought of replacing the baby she had lost, to the healing comfort of his love.
Instead she found him with another woman, and not just any woman, the woman who had viciously and knowingly tried to hurt her before. Under normal circumstances, she might have been able