He rested on her for a time, because he knew she loved his weight on her then. When he finally rolled over, he looked down at her and saw her languid smile and had to kiss it. Their tongues explored, softly, gently, without prodding, and she began to feel a touch of excitement again. He noticed her heightened response and responded in kind. Without the great urgency this time, he kissed her mouth, then each of her eyes, and found her ears, and the tender, ticklish places of her throat. He moved lower and found her nipple. In no hurry, he suckled and nibbled on one while he fondled and squeezed the other, then traded off, until she was pressing herself to him, wanting more and more as the sensation grew.
And his own as well. His spent manhood was swelling again, and when she felt it, she abruptly sat up and bent down to take it into her mouth and help it along. He lay back to enjoy the sensations she sent coursing through him, as she took in as much as she could, sucking hard, then releasing and letting it slide back. She found the hard ridge on the underside and rubbed her tongue across it rapidly; then, pulling back the foreskin a little, she circled the smooth head with her tongue faster and faster. He moaned with the fiery waves coursing through him, then pulled her around until she straddled him, and he reached up to taste the warm petal of her flower.
At almost the same moment, they felt themselves and each other mount and mount, and when he tasted her again, he pulled himself back, turned her around so that she was on her knees, guided himself
in, and felt her full, deep well again. She pushed back with each stroke, rocking, moving, plunging in and pulling back, feeling every push, every pull, and then, it came again, first she and, at the next stroke, he felt the marvelous surge of the Mother’s great Gift of Pleasure.
They both collapsed, exhausted, pleasurably, wonderfully, languorously exhausted. They felt a draft for a moment, but didn’t move, and they even dozed off for a time. When they woke, they got up and washed again, then soaked in the hot waters. To their surprise, when they got out, they found clean, dry, velvety soft leather blankets to dry themselves with beside the entrance.
Madenia walked back to the cave, experiencing feelings she had never known before. She had been moved by Jondalar’s intense but controlled passion and his caring tenderness, and by Ayla’s eager response and unreserved willingness to abandon herself to him, to trust him completely. Their experience was not at all like the one she had endured. Their Pleasures had been fiery and physical but not brutal; it was not taking from one to serve the other’s lust, but giving and sharing to please and gratify each other. Ayla had told her the truth; the Mother’s Pleasures could be an exciting, sensual delight, a joyful and pleasurable celebration of their love.
And though she didn’t quite know what to do about it, she was aroused, physically and emotionally. She had tears in her eyes. At that moment, she wanted Jondalar. She wished he could be the one to share her womanhood rites, though she knew that wasn’t possible. But she decided, at that moment, that if she could have someone like him, she would agree to go through with the ceremony and have her Rites of First Pleasures at the next Summer Meeting.
No one was feeling particularly lively the next morning. Ayla made the “morning-after” drink she had developed for the after-celebration headaches at the Lion Camp, though she only had enough ingredients for the people of the Ceremonial Hearth. She carefully checked her supply of the contraceptive tea she took each morning, and decided it should last until the growing season when she could collect more. Fortunately it wasn’t necessary to take much.
Madenia came to see the visitors before noon. Smiling shyly at Jondalar, she announced that she had decided to have her First Rites.
“That’s wonderful, Madenia. You won’t be sorry,” the tall, handsome, wonderfully gentle man said. She looked up at him with such adoring eyes that he bent down and kissed her cheek, then nuzzled her neck and breathed in her ear. He stood up and smiled at her, and she was lost in his remarkable blue eyes. Her heart was beating so fast that
she could hardly breathe. At that moment, more than anything, Madenia wished that Jondalar could be the one who would be chosen for her Rites of First Pleasures. Then she felt embarrassed, afraid, that somehow he knew what she was thinking. Suddenly she ran out of the hearth area.
“Too bad we don’t live closer to the Losadunai,” he said, watching her go. “I would like to help that young woman, but I’m sure they’ll find someone.”
“Yes, I’m sure they will, but I hope she hasn’t built up her expectations too high. I told her that someday she might find someone like you, Jondalar, that she had suffered enough and deserved it. I hope so, for her sake,” Ayla said. “But there aren’t many like you.”
“All young women have high hopes and expectations,” Jondalar said, “but it’s all imagination before the first time.”
“But she has something to base her imagination on.”
“Of course, they all know more or less what to expect. It’s not like they haven’t been around men and women,” he said.
“It’s more than that, Jondalar. Who do you think left us those dry blankets last night?”
“I thought it was Losaduna, or maybe Solandia.”
“They went to their bed before we did; they had their own honoring to do. I asked them. They didn’t even know we had gone to the sacred waters—although Losaduna seemed particularly pleased about it.”
“If they didn’t, then who … Madenia?”
“I’m almost certain it was.”
Jondalar frowned with concentration. “We’ve been traveling alone together for so long that … I’ve never really said it before, but … I feel a little … I don’t know … reluctant, I guess, to be as impetuous, as free when we’re around people. I thought we were alone last night. If I’d known she was there, I might not have been as … unrestrained,” he said.
Ayla smiled. “I know,” she said. She was becoming more and more aware that he didn’t like to reveal the deeply sensitive side of his nature, and she was pleased that he would express himself to her, in words and actions. “I’m glad you didn’t know she was there, both for me, and for her.”
“Why for her?” he asked.
“I think that’s what convinced her to go ahead with her womanhood ceremony. She had been around men and women sharing Pleasures often enough that she didn’t think about it, until those men forced her. Afterward she could only think about the pain, and the horror of being used as a thing, with no thought for her as a woman. It’s hard to explain, Jondalar. Something like that makes you feel so … terrible.”
“I’m sure that’s true, but I think there was more to it,” the man said.“After a girl has her first moon time, but before she has had her First Rites, a woman is most vulnerable—and most desirable. Every man is drawn to her, perhaps because she may not be touched. At any other time, a woman is free to choose any man, or none, but at that time, it is dangerous for her.”
“Like Latie wasn’t even supposed to look at her brothers,” Ayla said. “Mamut explained about that.”
“Maybe not entirely,” Jondalar said. “It is up to the girl-woman to show restraint then, and it’s not always easy. She is the center of attention; every man wants her, particularly the younger ones, and it can be hard for her to resist. They follow her around, trying every way they can to get her to give in to them. Some girls do, especially those who have a long wait before the Summer Meeting. But if she allows herself to be opened without the proper rituals, she is … not well thought of. If it’s found out, and sometimes the Mother blesses her before she is a woman, making sure everyone knows that she was opened—people can be cruel. They blame her and make fun of her.”
“But why should they blame her? They should blame the men who won’t let her alone,” Ayla said, irked at the unfairness.
“People say if she can’t show restraint, she lacks the qualities to assume the responsibilities of Motherhood and Leadership. She will never be chosen to sit on the Council of Mothers, or Sisters, or whatever name her people give to their council of highest authority, so she loses status, which makes her less desirable as a mate. Not that she loses the status of her mother or her hearth—nothing she is born with is taken away—but she will never be chosen by a man of high status, or even one who has the potential for it. I think Madenia feared that as much as anything,” Jondalar said.
“No wonder Verdegia said she was ruined.” Ayla’s brow creased with concern. “Jondalar, will her people accept Losaduna’s cleansing ritual? You know that once she is open, she can never really go back to the way she was.”
“I think so. It wasn’t that she didn’t show restraint. She was forced, and people are angry enough about Charoli to use that against him. There may be a few who will have reservations, but she will have a lot of defenders, too.”
Ayla was silent for a while. “People are complicated, aren’t they? Sometimes I wonder if anything is really what it seems.”
“I think it will work, Laduni,” Jondalar said. “I do think it will work! Let me go through it again. We’ll use the bowl boat to carry dried
grass, and enough burning stones to melt ice for water, plus extra rocks to build a fire on, and the heavy mammoth hide to put the rocks on so they won’t sink into the ice when they get hot. We can carry food for us, and probably Wolf, in pack baskets and our backframes.”
“It will be a heavy load,” Laduni said, “but you don’t have to boil the water—that will save on burning stones. You just have to melt it enough so the hroses can drink it; both of you and the wolf, too. It doesn’t have to be hot, but make sure it’s not icy. And make sure you drink enough; don’t try to be sparing. If you have warm clothes, get enough rest, and drink enough water, you can resist the cold.”
“I think they should try it out in advance, to see how much they will need,” Laronia said.
Ayla saw that Laduni’s mate had made the suggestion. “That’s a good idea,” she said.
“But Laduni’s right, it will be a heavy load,” Laronia added.
“Then we’ll have to go through our things and get rid of everything we can,” Jondalar said. “We won’t need much. Once we get across, we’ll be close to Dalanar’s Camp.”
They were already down to bare necessities. How much more could they get rid of? Ayla thought as the meeting broke up. Madenia fell in beside her as she walked back to their sleeping place. The girl-woman had not only developed a strong crush on Jondalar, but a bit of hero-worship toward Ayla, which made Ayla a little uncomfortable. But she liked Madenia and asked her if she would like to sit with her while she sorted through her things.
As Ayla began unpacking and spreading out her belongings, she tried to remember how many times she had done this before on this Journey. It would be difficult to make choices. Everything had some meaning to her, but if they were going to get across this formidable glacier that Jondalar had been worrying about from the beginning, with Whinney and Racer, and Wolf, she had to eliminate as much as possible.
The first package she opened contained the beautiful outfit made of soft chamois that Roshario had given to her. She held it up, then spread it out in front of her.
“Oooh! How beautiful! The patterns that are sewn on, and the way it’s cut, I’ve never seen anything like it,” Madenia said, unable to resist reaching out to touch it. “And so soft! I have never felt anything so soft.”
“It was given to me by a woman of the Sharamudoi, people who live far away from here, near the end of the Great Mother River, where she is truly a great river. You wouldn’t believe how big the Mother River gets. The Sharamudoi are really two people. The Shamudoi live on the
land and hunt chamois. Do you know that animal?” Ayla asked. Madenia shook her head. “It is a mountain animal, something like an ibex, but smaller.”
“Yes, I do know that, but we call it by a different name,” Madenia said.
“The Ramudoi are River People and hunt the great sturgeon—that’s a huge fish. Together, they have a special way of curing the hides of the chamois to make them soft and supple like this.”
Ayla picked up the embroidered tunic and thought about the Sharamudoi people she had met. It seemed so long ago. She could have lived with them; she still felt the same way, and she knew she would never see them again. She hated the thought of leaving the gift from Roshario behind. Then she looked into Madenia’s shining eyes as she admired it, and Ayla made a decision.
“Would you like to have this, Madenia?”
Madenia jerked her hands back as though she had touched something hot. “I couldn’t! It was a gift to you,” she said.
“We have to lighten our load. I think Roshario would be pleased if you would accept it, since you love it so. It was meant to be a matrimonial outfit, but I already have one.”
“Are you sure?” Madenia said.
Ayla could see her eyes glistening, incredulous at the thought of such a beautiful, exotic outfit. “Yes, I’m sure. You might consider it for your Matrimonial, if it is appropriate. Think of it as a gift to remember me.”
“I don’t need a gift to remember you,” Madenia said, her eyes brimming with tears. “I will never forget you. Because of you, maybe, someday, I will have a Matrimonial, and if I do, I will wear it then.” She couldn’t wait to show it to her mother, and to all her friends and age-mates at the Summer Meeting.
Ayla was glad she had decided to give it to her. “Would you like to see my Matrimonial outfit?”
“Oh, yes,” Madenia said.
Ayla unwrapped the tunic Nezzie had made for her when she had planned to mate with Ranec. It was an ochre yellow, the color of her hair. A carving of a horse had been wrapped inside it, and two almost perfectly matched pieces of honey-colored amber. Madenia couldn’t believe Ayla could have two outfits that were so exotically beautiful, yet so different from each other, but she was afraid to say too much, for fear Ayla might feel required to give her this one, too.
Ayla studied it, trying to decide what to do with it. Then she shook her head. No, she could not part with it, it was her Matrimonial tunic. She would wear it when she mated with Jondalar. In a way, it had a part of Ranec in it, too. She picked up the small horse carved out of mammoth
ivory and fondled it absentmindedly. This, too, she would keep. She thought about Ranec, wondered how he was. No one had ever loved her more, and she would never forget him. She could have mated him and been happy with him, if she hadn’t loved Jondalar so much.