The valley of horses_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [37]
The man nodded vigorously. “Yes, mother’s mother … five … generations,” he said, pointing again to each person.
“Great Mother! Do you know how old she must be?” Jondalar said to his brother.
“Great mother, yes,” Tamen said. “Haduma … mother.” He patted his stomach.
“Children?”
“Children.” He nodded. “Haduma mother children …” He began drawing lines in the dirt.
“One, two, three …” Jondalar said the counting words with each one. “ … Sixteen! Haduma gave birth to sixteen children?”
Tamen nodded, pointing again to the marks on the ground. “ … Many son … many … girl?” He shook his head, doubtful.
“Daughters?” Jondalar offered.
Tamen brightened. “Many daughters …” He thought for a moment, “Live … all live. All … many children.” He held up one hand and one finger. “Six Caves … Hadumai.”
“No wonder they were ready to kill us if we so much as looked cross at her,” Thonolan said. “She’s the mother of all of them, a living First Mother!”
Jondalar was as impressed, but even more puzzled. “I am honored to know Haduma, but I don’t understand. Why are we being held? And why did she come here?”
The old man pointed to their meat drying on cords, then to the young man who had first detained them. “Jeren … hunt, Jeren make …” Tamen drew a circle on the ground with two diverging lines making a broad V from the small space left open. “Zelandonii man make … make run …” He thought for a long time, then smiled and said, “Make run horse.”
“So that’s it!” Thonolan said. “They must have built a surround and were waiting for that herd to move closer. We chased them off.”
“I can understand why he was angry,” Jondalar said to Tamen. “But we didn’t know we were on your hunting grounds. We’ll stay and hunt, of course, to make restitution. It’s still no way to treat Visitors. Doesn’t he understand passage customs for those on a Journey?” he said, venting his own anger.
The old man didn’t catch every word, but enough to understand the meaning. “Not many Visitors. Not … west … long time. Customs … forget.”
“Well, you ought to remind him. You were on a Journey, and he might want to make one someday.” Jondalar was still annoyed at their treatment, but he didn’t want to make too much of an issue about it. He still wasn’t sure what was going on and he didn’t want to actually offend them. “Why did Haduma come? How can you allow her to make a long trip at her age?”
Tamen smiled. “Not … allow Haduma. Haduma say. Jeren … find dumai. Bad … bad luck?” Jondalar nodded to indicate the correctness of the word, but he didn’t understand what Tamen was trying to say. “Jeren give … man … runner. Say Haduma make bad luck go. Haduma come.”
“Dumai? Dumai? You mean my donii?” Jondalar said, taking the carved stone figurine out of his pouch. The people around gasped and drew back when they saw what he had in his hand. An angry murmur rose from the crowd, but Haduma harangued them and they quieted.
“But this donii is good luck!” Jondalar protested.
“Good luck … woman, yes. Man …” Tamen searched his memory for a word, “ … sacrilege,” he said.
Jondalar sat back, stunned. “But if it’s good luck for a woman, why did she throw it?” He made a violent gesture of casting the donii down, bringing exclamations of concern. Haduma spoke to the old man.
“Haduma … long time live … big luck. Big … magic. Haduma say me Zelandonii … customs. Say Zelandonii man not Hadumai … Haduma say Zelandonii man bad?”
Jondalar shook his head.
Thonolan spoke up. “I think he’s saying she was testing you, Jondalar. She knew the customs were not the same, and she wanted to see how you would react when she dishonored …”
“Dishonor, yes,” Tamen interrupted, hearing the word.
“Haduma … know not all man, good man. Want know Zelandonii man dishonor Mother.”
“Listen, that’s a very special donii,” Jondalar said, a little indignant, “It’s very old. My mother gave it to me—it’s been handed down for generations.”
“Yes, yes.” Tamen nodded vigorously. “Haduma know. Wise … much wise. Long time live. Big magic, make bad luck go. Haduma know Zelandonii