The shelters of stone - Jean M. Auel [417]
The woman just smiled. Of course she had. Her own babies, but this one, the daughter of her son’s hearth, was no less beautiful than her own had been.
“The delivery wasn’t very hard at all, Zelandoni,” Ayla said when the donier came and looked at them both. “You helped a lot, but it wasn’t really so hard. I’m so glad she’s a girl. Look, she’s trying to find my breast.” Ayla helped her, with the ease of experience, Zelandoni thought. “Can Jondalar come and see her? I think she looks a lot like him, don’t you, Marthona?”
“He can come soon,” Zelandoni said as she examined Ayla and wrapped some fresh absorbent leather between her legs. “There was no tearing, Ayla, no damage. Only the bleeding to cleanse. It was a good delivery. Do you have a name for her?”
“Yes, I’ve been thinking about it ever since you told me I would have to choose the name for my baby,” Ayla said.
“Good. Tell me the name. I will make a symbol for it on this stone, and exchange it for this,” she said, picking up the birthing blanket wrapped into a bundle around the afterbirth. “Then I will take this out and bury it, before the spirit life still remaining in the afterbirth tries to seek a home close to the life it once held. I must do it quickly, then I will tell Jondalar to come in.”
“I’ve decided to call her…” Ayla began.
“No! Don’t say it out loud, just whisper it to me,” Zelandoni said.
As the donier bent close, Ayla whispered in her ear. Then she left quickly. Marthona, Folara, and Proleva sat beside the new mother, admiring the baby and talking quietly. Ayla was feeling tired, but happy and relaxed, not at all as she had after Durc was born. Then she had been exhausted and in pain. She dozed off a little and was awakened when Zelandoni returned and gave her the small stone that now held enigmatic marks in red and black paint.
“Put this in a safe place, perhaps in the niche behind your donii,” Zelandoni said.
Ayla nodded, then saw another head appear. “Jondalar!” she said. He knelt down beside the sleeping platform to get closer.
“How are you, Ayla?”
“I’m fine. It was not a bad delivery, Jondalar. Much easier than I thought it would be. And see the baby?” she said as she unwrapped the blanket so he could see. “She’s perfect!”
“You got the girl you wanted,” he said, looking at the tiny newborn and feeling a little awed. “She’s so little. And look, she even has tiny fingernails.” The thought of a woman giving birth to a complete new human being suddenly overwhelmed him. “What have you named your daughter, Ayla?”
She looked at Zelandoni. “Can I tell him?”
“Yes, it’s safe now,” she said.
“I’ve named our daughter Jonayla, after both you and me, Jondalar, because she came from both of us. She is your daughter, too.”
“Jonayla. I like that name. Jonayla,” he said.
Marthona liked the name, too. She and Proleva smiled indulgently at Ayla. It was not uncommon for new mothers to try to reassure their mates that their children came from their spirits. Although Ayla had not said “spirit,” they were sure they understood what she meant. Zelandoni wasn’t as sure. Ayla tended to say exactly what she meant. Jondalar had no doubt. He knew exactly what she meant.
It would be nice if it was true, he thought as he looked at the tiny little girl. Exposed to the cool air without her covers, she was beginning to wake up.
“She is beautiful. She’s going to look just like you, Ayla. I can see it already,” he said.
“She looks like you, too, Jondalar. Would you like to hold her?”
“I don’t know,” he said, backing off a bit. “She’s so small.”
“Not too small for you to hold, Jondalar,” Zelandoni said. “Here, I’ll help you. Sit down comfortably.” She quickly wrapped the baby back up in her blanket, picked her up, and placed her in Jondalar’s arms, showing him how to hold her.
The infant had her eyes open and seemed to be looking at him. Are you my daughter? he wondered. You are so tiny, you will need someone to watch over you,