The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [384]
Losaduna smiled. “Good! That’s perfect! And very clever. I’ve seen that amulet, and it is very personal to her. Wrap them back up together and give me the package.”
Jondalar did as he was told, but Losaduna noticed a questioning look when he handed it to him.
“I cannot tell you where I will put it, but She will know. Now, there are some things I must explain to you, and some questions I must ask,” Losaduna said.
Jondalar nodded. “I will try to answer.”
“You want a child to be born to your hearth, to the woman, Ayla, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“You do understand that a child born to your hearth may not be of your spirit?”
“Yes.”
“How do you feel about that? Does it matter to you whose spirit is used?”
“I would like it to be of my spirit, but … my spirit may not be right. Maybe it isn’t strong enough or the Mother can’t use it, or maybe She doesn’t want to. No one is ever sure whose spirit it is, anyway, but if a child was born to Ayla, and born to my hearth, that would be enough. I think I would almost feel like a mother myself,” Jondalar said, and his conviction was obvious.
Losaduna nodded. “Good. Tonight we honor the Mother, so this is a very propitious time. You know that those women who honor Her most are the ones who are most often blessed. Ayla is a beautiful woman, and she will have no trouble finding a man or men to share Pleasures with.”
When the One Who Served the Mother saw the tall man’s frown, he realized that Jondalar was one of those who found it difficult to see the woman he chose choose someone else, even though it was only for ceremony. “You must encourage her, Jondalar. It honors the Mother and is most important if you are sincere in wanting Ayla to have a child born to your hearth. I have seen it work before. Many women become pregnant almost immediately. The Mother may be so pleased with you, She might even use your spirit, especially if you also honor Her well.”
Jondalar closed his eyes and nodded, but Losaduna saw his jaw clench and grind. It was not going to be easy for the man.
“She has never taken part in a Festival to Honor the Mother. What if she … doesn’t want anyone else?” Jondalar asked. “Should I refuse her?”
“You must encourage her to share with others, but the choice is, of course, hers. You must never refuse any woman, if you can help it, at Her Festival, but especially not the one you have chosen to be your mate. I wouldn’t worry about it, Jondalar. Most women get into the spirit of it and have no trouble enjoying the Mother Festival,” Losaduna said. “But it is strange that Ayla wasn’t raised to know the Mother. I didn’t know there were any people who don’t acknowledge Her.”
“The people who raised her were … unusual in many ways,” Jondalar said.
“I’m sure that’s true,” Losaduna said. “Now, let’s go ask the Mother.”
Ask the Mother. Ask the Mother. The phrase went through Jondalar’s thoughts as they walked toward the back of the ceremonial space. He suddenly remembered being told that he was favored by the Mother, so favored that no woman could refuse him, not even Doni Herself; so favored that if he ever asked the Mother for anything, She would grant his request. He had also been warned to be wary of such favor; he might get what he asked for. At that moment, he fervently hoped it was true.
They stopped at the niche where the lamp still burned. “Pick the dunai up and hold her