The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [322]
Finally, out of desperation, he said, “I want to do something for those men in the Holding. How can I help?”
“Jondalar, you already have,” S’Armuna said, feeling a need to plan some strategy herself. “When you refused her, it gave the men heart, but that by itself would not have been enough. Men have resisted her before, for a while, but this was the first time a man walked away from her, and even more important, came back,” S’Armuna said. “Attaroa has lost face, and that gives others hope.”
“But hope doesn’t get them out of there,” he replied.
“No, and Attaroa will not let them out willingly. No man leaves here alive, if she can help it, although a few have gotten away, but women don’t often make Journeys. You are the first who has come this way Ayla.”
“Would she kill a woman?” Jondalar asked, unconsciously moving in closer to protect the woman he loved.
“It’s harder for her to justify killing a woman, or even putting her in the Holding, although many of the women here are held against their will, though they have no fence around them. She has threatened the ones they love, and they are held by their feelings for their sons or mates. That’s why your life is in danger,” S’Armuna said, looking directly at Ayla. “You have no ties to this place. She has no hold over you, and if she succeeds in killing you, it will make it easier for her to kill other women. I’m telling you this not only to warn you, but because of the danger to the whole Camp. You can both still get away, and perhaps that is what you should do.”
“No, I cannot leave,” Ayla said. “How can I walk away from those children? Or those men? The women will need help, too. Brugar called you a medicine woman, S’Armuna. I don’t know if you know what that means, but I am a medicine woman of the Clan.”
“You are a medicine woman? I should have known,” S’Armuna said. She wasn’t entirely sure what a medicine woman was, but she had gained such respect from Brugar after he had ranked her within that classification, that she had granted the position the highest significance.
“That is why I can’t go,” Ayla said. “It is not so much something I choose to do; it is what a medicine woman must do, it is what she is. It is inside. A piece of my spirit is already in the next world”—Ayla reached for the amulet around her neck—” given in exchange for the spirit obligation of those people who will need my help. It’s difficult to explain, but I can’t allow Attaroa to abuse them any more, and this Camp will need help after the ones in the Holding are free. I must stay, as long as I need to.”
S’Armuna nodded, feeling that she understood. It was not an easy concept to explain. She equated Ayla’s fascination with healing and compassionate need to help with her own feelings about being called to Serve the Mother, and she identified with the young woman.
“We will stay as long as we can,” Jondalar amended, remembering that they still had to cross a glacier that winter. “The question is, how are we going to persuade Attaroa to let the men out?”
“She fears you, Ayla,” the shaman said, “and I think most of her Wolf Women do, too. Those who don’t fear you are in awe of you. The S’Armunai are horse-hunting people. We hunt other animals, too, including mammoths, but we know horses. To the north there is a cliff that we have driven horses over for generations. You cannot deny your control over horses is powerful magic. It is so powerful that it is hard to believe, even seeing it.”
“There is nothing mysterious about it,” Ayla snorted. “I raised the mare from the time she was a foal. I was living alone, and she was my only friend. Whinney does what I want because she wants to, because