The valley of horses_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [118]
Jondalar smiled at his brother’s gibe. “Should speak Sharamudoi, Thonolan,” he said with a wink at Tholie. He speared a vegetable out of his wooden bowl with his eating knife, still finding it not quite natural to use his left hand for the purpose, though that was the custom of the Sharamudoi. “What is named this?” he asked her. “In Zelandonii is called ‘mushroom.’ ”
Tholie told him the word for the shaggy cap mushroom in her language and in Sharamudoi. Then he speared a green stalk and held it up questioningly.
“That’s the stem of young burdock,” Jetamio said, and then realized the word itself would mean little to him. She got up and went to the refuse pile near the cooking area and brought back some wilted but still recognizable leaves. “Burdock,” she said, showing him the large, downy, gray-green leaf parts that had been torn from the stem. He nodded his head with undemanding. Then she held out a long, broad, green leaf with an unmistakable odor.
“That’s it! I knew it was some familiar flavor,” he said to his brother. “I didn’t know garlic grew in leaf like that.” Then back to Jetamio, “What is name?”
“Ransoms,” she said. Tholie had no Mamutoi name for it, but she did for the piece of dried leaf Jetamio next held out.
“Seaweed,” she said. “I brought that with me. It grows in the sea, and it thickens the stew.” She tried to explain but wasn’t sure if she was understood. The ingredient had been added to the traditional dish because of her close relationship to the new couple, and because it imparted an interesting taste and texture. “There is not much left. It was part of my bride gift,” Tholie braced the baby over her shoulder and patted her back. “Have you made your gift to the Blessing Tree yet, Tamio?”
Jetamio lowered her head, smiling demurely. It was a question not usually asked outright, but only mildly meddlesome. “I’m hoping the Mother will bless my mating with a baby as healthy and happy as yours, Tholie. Is Shamio through nursing?”
“She just likes to suck for comfort. She’d hang on all day if I let her. Would you like to hold her? I need to go outside.”
When Tholie returned, the focus of conversation had shifted. Food had been cleared out of the way, more wine served, and someone was practicing rhythms on a single-skin drum and improvising words to a song. When she took her infant back, Thonolan and Jetamio stood up and tried to edge their way out. Suddenly several people with broad grins ringed them.
It was usual for the couple about to be mated to leave the feast early to find some last moments alone together before their pre-Matrimonial separation. But since they were the guests of honor, they could not politely take their leave as long as anyone was talking to them. They must try to sneak away in the moment when no one would notice, but of course, everyone knew it. It became a game, and they were expected to play their parts—making dashes to get away while everyone pretended to look aside, and then making polite excuses when they were caught. After some teasing and joking, they would be allowed to go.
“You’re not in a hurry to leave, are you?” Thonolan was asked.
“It get late,” Thonolan evaded, grinning.
“It’s early yet. Have another helping, Tamio.”
“I couldn’t eat another bite.”
“A cup of wine then. Thonolan, you wouldn’t turn down a cup of Tamio’s wonderful bilberry wine, would you?”
“Well … little.”
“Little more for you, Tamio?”
She edged closer to Thonolan and made a conspiratorial glance over her shoulder. “Just a sip, but someone will have to get our cups. They’re over there.”
“Of course. You’ll wait right here, won’t you?”
One person went to get the cups, while the rest made a pretense of watching him. Thonolan and Jetamio made a break for the darkness beyond the fire.
“Thonolan. Jetamio. I thought you were going to share a drink of wine with us.”
“Oh, we are. Just need to make a trip outside. You know how it is after a large meal,” Jetamio explained.
Jondalar, standing close to Serenio, was