The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [342]
“Well, I’m not leaving yet, and who knows? It appears to me that you could have that baby any time,” Ayla said. “Perhaps we will still be here.”
“I hope so. You have done so much for us. I only wish you had come before Omel and the others…”
Ayla saw tears glittering in her eyes. “You miss your friends, I know, but soon you will have a brand-new baby all your own. I think that may help. Have you thought about a name?”
“I didn’t for a long time. I knew there wouldn’t be much point in thinking about a boy’s name, and I didn’t know if I’d be allowed to name a girl. Now, if it’s a boy, I don’t know whether to name it after my brother, or … another man I knew. But if it’s a girl, I want to name it for S’Armuna. She helped me to see … him…” A sob of anguish interrupted her words.
Ayla took the young woman in her arms. Grief needed to be expressed. It was good for her to get it out. This Camp was still full of grief that had to come out. Ayla hoped the ceremony that S’Armuna planned would help. When her tears finally abated, Cavoa pulled back and wiped her eyes with the side of her hand. Ayla looked around for something to give her to dry her tears, and she opened up a package she had carried with her for years to let the young woman use the soft leather wrapping. But when Cavoa saw what was inside, her eyes opened wide in disbelief. It was a munai, a small figure of a woman carved out of ivory, but this munai had a face, and the face was Ayla’s!
She averted her eyes, as though she had seen something she shouldn’t have, dried her eyes, and quickly left. Ayla frowned as she wrapped the carving Jondalar had made of her back in the soft leather. She knew it had frightened Cavoa.
She tried to put it out of her mind as she packed their few things. She picked up the pouch that held their firestones, and she emptied it to see how many of the grayish yellow metallic pieces of iron pyrite they had left. She wanted to give one to S’Armuna, but she didn’t know how plentiful they would be near Jondalar’s home, and she wanted to have some for gifts to his kin. She decided to part with one, but only one, and she selected a good-size nodule, then put the rest away.
When Ayla went out, she noticed Cavoa leaving the large earthlodge as she entered. She smiled at the young woman, who smiled nervously back, and when she went in, she thought S’Armuna looked at her strangely. Jondalar’s carving had created some worry, it seemed. Ayla waited until another person had left the lodge, and S’Armuna was alone.
“I have something I want to give you before I leave. I discovered this when I was living alone in my valley,” she said, opening her palm to show her the stone. “I thought you might be able to make use of it for your Fire Ceremony.”
S’Armuna looked at it, then looked up at Ayla questioningly.
“I know it doesn’t look like it, but there is fire inside this stone. Let me show you.”
Ayla went to the fireplace, got out the tinder they used, and arranged small shavings of wood loosely around dried cattail fluff. She placed sticks of kindling nearby, then bent down low and struck the iron pyrite with flint. A large hot spark was drawn off and fell on the tinder, and when she blew on it, a small flame miraculously appeared. She added kindling to keep it going, and when she looked up she saw the stunned woman gaping at her incredulously.
“Cavoa told me she saw a munai with your face, and now you make fire appear. Are you … who they say you are?”
Ayla smiled. “Jondalar made that carving, because he loved me. He said he wanted to capture my spirit, and then he gave it to me. It’s not a donii, or a munai. It’s just a token of his feeling, and I will be happy to show you how to make fire appear. It’s not me, it’s something in the firestone.”
“Should I be here?” The voice came from the entrance, and both women turned to look at Cavoa. “I forgot my mitts and came back for them.”
S’Armuna and Ayla looked at each other. “I don