The valley of horses_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [176]
Dolando started up around a rock formation whose parallel lines of strata were skewed at an angle. Softer layers of the sedimentary deposits had worn away on the exposed face, leaving convenient steplike footholds. The steep hike to get up behind and around the herd of chamois would be arduous, but not perilous. No real mountain climbing would be required.
The rest of the hunting party fell in behind the leader. Jondalar was waiting to bring up the rear. Nearly everyone had started up the stepped rock when he heard Serenio call out to him. He turned around in surprise. Serenio was not a woman who cared for hunting, and she seldom went much beyond the vicinity of the shelters. He couldn’t imagine what she was doing so far away, but the look on her face when she caught up to him sent a chill of fear down his back. She had been hurrying and had to catch her breath before she could talk. “Glad … reached you. Need Thonolan … Jetamio … labor …” she managed to get out after a moment.
He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted: “Thonolan! Thonolan!”
One of the figures moving on ahead turned around, and Jondalar waved him back.
The silence as they waited was uncomfortable. He wanted to ask if Jetamio was all right, but something held him back.
“When did labor start?” he finally asked.
“She was having back pains last night but didn’t say anything to Thonolan. He’d been looking forward to the chamois hunt, and she was afraid he wouldn’t go if she told him. She said she wasn’t sure it was labor, and I think she had some idea of surprising him with a baby when he got back,” Serenio said. “She didn’t want him to worry, or be nervous waiting, while she labored.”
That was like Jetamio, he thought. She would want to spare him. Thonolan doted on her so much. Suddenly Jondalar had an ominous thought. If it was Jetamio’s wish to surprise Thonolan, why had Serenio rushed up the mountain to get him?
“There’s a problem, isn’t there?”
Serenio looked at the ground, closed her eyes, and breathed deep before she answered. “The baby is breech; she’s too narrow and won’t give. Shamud thinks it’s the fault of the paralysis she had, and told me to get Thonolan.… You, too … for his sake.”
“Oh, no! Good Doni, oh, no!”
“No! No! No! She can’t be! Why? Why would the Mother bless her with a child, and then take them both?”
Thonolan was pacing furiously within the confines of the dwelling he had shared with Jetamio, pounding one fist into the other hand. Jondalar stood by helplessly, unable to offer more than the comfort of his presence. Most could not offer that much. Thonolan, wild with grief, had screamed at everyone to get away.
“Jondalar, why her? Why would the Mother take her? She had so little, she suffered through so much. Was it so much to ask? A child? Someone of her own flesh and blood?”
“I don’t know, Thonolan. Not even a zelandoni could answer you.”
“Why like that? With such pain?” Thonolan stopped in front of his brother, appealing to him. “She hardly knew me when I came. Jondalar, she was hurting. I could see it in her eyes. Why did she have to die?”
“No one knows why the Mother gives life, and then takes it back.”
“The Mother! The Mother! She doesn’t care. Jetamio honored Her, I honored Her. What did it matter? She took Jetamio anyway. I hate the Mother!” He started pacing again.
“Jondalar …” Roshario called from the entrance, hesitating to come in.
Jondalar stepped out. “What is it?”
“Shamud cut in to take the baby, after she …” Roshario blinked back a tear. “He thought he might be able to save the baby—sometimes that will work. It was too late, but it was a boy. I don’t know if you want to tell him or not.”
“Thank you, Roshario.”
He could see she had been grieving. Jetamio had been a daughter. Roshario had raised her, cared for her through a paralyzing illness and a long