The shelters of stone - Jean M. Auel [204]
“That sounds like an admirable idea,” Willamar said.
“If they’re willing,” Marthona said.
“Why wouldn’t they be?” Ayla said. “Zelandonii women wouldn’t let a baby the for lack of a little milk, would they? I did tell Lanoga I would go there tomorrow in the morning and teach her how to make more than mashed roots for the baby.”
“What can a baby eat besides milk?” Folara asked.
“Many things,” Ayla said. “If you scrape cooked meat, you get a soft substance that a baby can eat, and they can drink the liquid left after you boil meat. Nuts, ground to mush and mixed with some liquid, and grain that has been ground very fine and cooked, are good for them. Any vegetable can be cooked until it’s soft, and some fruit just needs to be mashed, though the seeds have to be strained out. I always poured fruit juice through bunched-up fresh cleavers. They’re full of prickles and stick together easily and catch the seeds. Babies can eat almost anything their mothers can eat, if it’s smooth and fine enough.”
“How do you know so much about food that babies can eat?” Folara asked.
Ayla stopped and flushed with dismay. She hadn’t expected the question. She knew babies were not limited to nursing because Iza had taught her how to make food for Uba when the woman got sick and lost her milk. But Ayla’s knowledge had expanded manyfold when Iza died, and Ayla was so devastated by the loss of the only mother she knew, her milk dried up. Though the other women in Brun’s small clan who were nursing all fed Durc, she’d had to supplement with regular food to keep him satisfied and healthy.
But she wasn’t ready to tell Jondalar’s family about her son just yet. They had recently said they wanted to accept her into the Zelandonii, make her one of them, even though they knew she had been raised by the people they called flatheads and considered to be animals. She would never forget the pain she had felt at Jondalar’s first reaction when she told him that she had a son who was a mixture of both, of mixed spirits. Because the spirit of one of those people he thought of as animals had mixed with hers to start a life growing inside her, he had looked at her as though she were a filthy hyena and called her an abomination. She was worse than the child, because she had produced him. Jondalar had learned more about the Clan since then, and he did not feel that way anymore, but what about his people, his family?
Her mind raced. What would his mother say if she knew that her son wanted to mate with a woman who was an abomination? Or Willamar, or Folara, or the rest of his family? Ayla looked at Jondalar, and though usually she could discern his feelings and know what he was thinking by interpreting his expression or his demeanor, this time she could not. She didn’t know what he would wish her to say.
She had been raised with the understanding that she had to answer a direct question with a truthful answer. Ayla had since learned that unlike the Clan, the Others, her kind of people, could say things that were not true. They even had a word for it. It was called a lie. For a moment, she actually thought about saying a lie, but what could she say? She was sure they would know it if she tried; she didn’t know how to lie. At most, she could refrain from mentioning, but it was hard not to reply when she was asked a direct question.
Ayla had always supposed that his people were bound to find out about Durc sometime. He was often in her thoughts, and she knew there would come a moment when she would forget or decide not to refrain from mentioning him. She didn’t want to avoid talking about Durc forever. He was her son. But this was not the time.
“I know about making baby food, Folara, because after Uba was born, Iza lost her milk early and she taught me how to make food that Uba could eat. A baby can eat anything its mother can eat