A jolt went through his body, as if he had been hit. His eyes opened wide but he seemed not to see the people or the clearing. Words poured from him, measured words that came in a deep, sonorous voice that mesmerized the listeners with its intensity.

"Know my people that I, the Great Spirit, am among you. Always, I am there. I see your faces, know your thoughts, read your hearts. All that you do I watch, all that is within you is open to me. Listen now as I speak the words of truth that tell you how you must live, what you must do to please the Great Spirit who rules you. There is no other but myself; there is only the Great Spirit. The Great Spirit is all..."

The voice went on, lyrical, compelling. The villagers listened attentively, but Zena hardly heard the words. They did not seem to matter, so mesmerizing was the voice. It did not just make words as other voices did; it seemed able to use all the variations and tones and intensities of sound she had ever heard and make them magnificent, without equal. She wanted only to listen, to close her mind and listen.

Reluctantly, with a great effort of will, she forced herself to hear the words again, to get meaning from them. And as she did, fear clutched at her heart. Just as each person must submit to the Great Spirit to avoid retribution so must each woman submit to the man who was selected for her. Only in that way could she be among the chosen, the ones who were blessed by the Great Spirit. There was no mention of the joy of Akat or the pleasure of children, only of obedience and submission. And yet, in the Leader's voice, the words somehow rang with truth.

There was more: only by sacrificing that which they loved most would the Great Spirit know of their devotion. Zena was not sure what sacrifice meant, but the word still made her afraid. She looked at the people and saw her own fear reflected in the women's faces. The men seemed not to feel it so much. In them she saw awe, and another emotion she thought was pride. And perhaps it was, for the Leader was telling them that their maleness was special, that new life came from that maleness, not from the women's bodies as they had once thought.

Lief saw the fear and confusion on Zena's face and understood for the first time the enormity of the task he had undertaken when he had pledged to watch over her. This Leader was powerful, as powerful as the Great Spirit for whom he spoke. Zena would have to be very strong to challenge him, and yet he must be challenged. Even he, who was not really of the Mother People, understood that. The Leader's words violated all their most cherished beliefs even as they sounded so reassuring.

As if to confirm his thought, heads began to nod in affirmation all around the clearing. Zena saw them too, and scanned the faces again, trying to read them. Did they really believe, or did they nod because they must?

Her eyes stopped abruptly. Mara; she saw Mara, at the very edge of the clearing. She had brushed her headscarf away from her face and was staring at Zena, almost as if she were willing Zena to look at her. When Zena's gaze stopped on her Mara did not look away. There was skepticism in her eyes, skepticism Zena felt sure she was meant to see. Mara, at least, did not believe.

Fear suddenly replaced Mara's skepticism, and she lowered her face. Zena glanced at the circle again and saw that Korg's head had risen from the dirt. The bird-like mask had fallen from his face, and his eyes roamed restlessly across the attentive faces. She saw them stop on one face, then another. Had they stopped on Mara's? With movements so slow they could hardly be seen, Korg wriggled to one side of the circle; then he was still again, all but his eyes. His nubile body was tense with waiting, as if he were preparing himself for would happen next. There was menace in his stillness, and even as the people listened to the Leader, they stole glances at Korg, their faces wary. Tension rose in the visitors bodies too.

The Leader was speaking now of the horrors that would come if the rules were not obeyed. In powerful tones, he described the afflictions that would result from disobedience, lingering on the spreading ice that had covered the land before the Great Spirit had come to them. The ice is still there, he warned, pointing up at the glaciers that hung over the valley, and could come crashing down to bury them all, as had happened in another village. Zena's eyes followed his pointing finger and she shivered. Could one of the glaciers really crash down upon the village?

"All will be well," the Leader told them sternly, "if only we obey."

The massed heads nodded again, and Zena almost found herself nodding with them. The message sounded so simple, so reassuring. Obey, and all will be well.

Another long silence came, and now fear was palpable among the listeners.

"Transgression!" The word came so suddenly that everyone jumped. "There has been a transgression!"

As soon as the Leader's voice rang out, Korg was on his feet. He ran through the crowd, his body once again stooped like that of an old man. Abruptly, he stopped and pointed his finger at a young woman. Her eyes dilated with fear.

"I have done nothing," she shrieked. "Nothing!"

"The Great Spirit points to you, and the Great Spirit cannot speak other than truth," the Leader answered quietly. There was sadness in his voice and in his face, and Zena had the impression he did not like this part of the ritual.

"She has sinned against the man chosen for her." This time the voice was Korg's, hard and menacing compared to the Leader's gentle tones. Nothing more was said, but no one looked at the woman after that. She slunk away, misery and fear etched on her face. Lief saw that she was big with child. No wonder the women he had approached during his travels had been so afraid!

Another woman was singled out, then another. Korg's accusing finger went next to an older man. "He has taken what did not belong to him!" Korg spat out.

The man made no response, only stared sullenly at the ground.

"The Great Spirit knows all truth," the Leader said, and now his tone was weary, as if he wanted only to be finished with the ritual.

Two children were the next to be accused. "They have not obeyed their elders as they should," Korg said, raking their young faces with malevolent eyes.

The Leader, however, regarded them tolerantly. "Children must obey the man who fathers them first, then all the other men of the tribe and after that the woman they call mother," he reminded them gently. "This must not be forgotten again, lest all in the tribe suffer. Next time, you must obey."

One of the children looked abashed, the other rebellious. To this one, Korg gave another long, hard look before he turned and rejoined the Leader in the dirt circle.

The Leader repeated the opening refrain and the audience responded, but their tone was automatic now. As soon as the words stopped, they began to talk among themselves, and Zena sensed that the ceremony was over. She looked again for Mara, but she was no longer there. In the place where she had been was an older woman who regarded Zena gravely. There was a terrible weariness in the woman's face, as if she had endured many trials, but at the same time there was great strength.

She will be an ally, Zena thought, and a moment later knew she was right. Her eyes still holding Zena's, the woman raised a hand and traced spirals in the air. It was the sign for wisdom for the Mother People, the ever-expanding wisdom that came to them from the Goddess. The gesture was so quick no one would have seen it unless they were watching closely. The next instant, the woman was gone.

CHAPTER FIVE.

Sadness enveloped Zena. That woman, perhaps the whole village, must once have worshipped the Goddess. They had been Mother People and now they were not. That was why Mara had known her name, known the symbols.

She sighed heavily, too weary suddenly to absorb the information or even to make an effort to rise from the ground. The ceremony had been an exhausting experience, one she would never forget.

Beside her, Durak pulled himself to his feet and extended a hand. Zena clasped it gratefully, glad of his touch. It reminded her that others like her existed, who did not follow the tyrannical ways of the Great Spirit, ways that seemed to her to speak more of fear and malice than of love and compassion.

The woman who had brought them to the clearing came then to show them the hut that had been prepared for them to use while they were here. They followed her gladly, happy to have a chance to rest and to talk among themselves.

"The Leader is indeed persuasive," Durak remarked as they gathered just outside the hut where the sun would warm them. "I can see why so many people follow him. What he says sounds wrong in many ways, though it seems so right when he speaks."

"I thought there was truth in some of what he said," Hular countered. There was a look of awe on his face.

"There certainly is not!" exclaimed Sorlin indignantly. "Did you hear what he said about women? How they should submit and obey?"

Lief listened with interest. Sorlin was a practical young woman, not easily fooled. The Leader had been unable to impress her, but Hular, who seemed more susceptible to persuasion, had found the Leader's messages convincing. So would many others, he thought grimly. Especially men.

He looked intently at Zena, wondering what she thought. Zena surprised him - and herself - by asking first. "And what of you, Lief," she said suddenly. "What do you think of the Leader?"

"I think that his words bind people's thoughts as surely as a hemp rope might bind their bodies," he replied promptly, recalling his thoughts as he traveled. "Whether he speaks truth and I do not think he does matters less than the invisible web his words weave."

The others looked at him with respect but he was not sure they understood what he meant. For a moment he wished he had not spoken. Perhaps Zena would not understand either. In another moment, he knew she had.

"Like a spider's web," she murmured, looking up at him. "So fragile and hard to see, yet so strong." He nodded, unable to look away. Their eyes held for a long moment.

"Except I do not think the web he weaves is real," Lief went on slowly, still holding her eyes. "Everything about the ceremony was unreal in a way I cannot understand. It is as if some other reality waits just behind the illusion he creates, only I do not know what it is."

Zena frowned, trying to imagine what that other reality might be, but the idea kept sliding away from her. She thought she knew what he was trying to say, but it was so hard to see through the web of fantasy the Leader had created.

"Nor do I," she answered finally. "Nor do I."

"She is very beautiful," Durak said abruptly, interrupting their musings. They followed his gaze and saw that he was staring at a young woman walking past their hut. "I wonder what she is called?"

"Why not ask her?" Sorlin teased. Despite his confidence in other areas, Durak was shy with women. This one had an almost child-like quality, as if she had never quite made the transition to adulthood. Perhaps she had not, since she alone among the women wore no head covering. Her pale hair hung to her waist, and her slender form moved with supple grace.

To their surprise, Durak immediately approached the young woman and asked her name. "I am Rofina," she said, glancing up at him quickly.

"And I am Durak," he replied, smiling at her. She looked up at him again with a tentative smile, her gaze lingering longer this time; then she dropped her eyes.

Durak was about to say more when Korg appeared. "The Leader wishes to see you," he told Rofina. His voice was quiet, without intonation, but it left no room for argument, and Rofina responded immediately.

"Good bye," she said to Durak. Once more, she gave him a long look before she walked away with Korg.

Zena was intrigued. At first totally devoid of expression, Rofina's eyes had come briefly to life when she looked at Durak. As soon as Korg came, they closed down again and a puzzled look came over her face, as if she were a child trying to understand an idea that was new to her.

Durak watched Rofina disappear with Korg. "I must speak with her again," he said urgently. "I do not like the way that man watches over her, commands her."

"Nor do I," Sorlin agreed. "It is as if he is her master. He tells her what to do and she cannot disobey."

Zena nodded in agreement. "It is very strange," she mused. "I watched her earlier, before the ceremony, and thought perhaps she was not fully aware, as if her mind had not matured with her body. But when she looked at you, Durak..."

"I saw that, too," Durak interrupted. "It was as if a light came into her eyes, and then it disappeared again." He shuddered. "I am afraid for her. I do not like the way Korg looks at her, either. It is not lustful exactly but it is wrong, bad...

"Something is very wrong in this whole place," he burst out suddenly, "only I do not know what it is."

"I do not know either," Zena answered slowly, "except that I think that it is as Lief says. What the Leader says is wrong, even cruel, but even worse is his ability to make people listen to him and think that he is right. The wrongness comes from Korg, too. There may be kindness in the Leader but there is no kindness in Korg, and he also has great power."

"They said it was this Great Spirit that knew everything the people did," Sorlin scoffed, "but it seemed to me it was Korg. It was he who accused them. I think he watches everyone to see if they have transgressed and then tells the Leader."

"If a person has transgressed, perhaps they should be reminded," Hular said mildly. "That helps to keep peace in the group. Besides, it is not right to take something that belongs to another or to betray another person."

"Perhaps the people did nothing except to offend Korg," Sorlin argued. "He might have made up those accusations."

"Perhaps," Hular conceded, not wanting to argue with Sorlin, who was known for her stubbornness as well as her quick willingness to comfort anyone in distress. "But you must admit that the man is wonderful to watch. Never have I seen such leaps."

"Yes," Zena agreed. "Korg is remarkable, and so is the Leader. Because of this, they could convince many others to believe them, to follow the ways of this Great Spirit. What then would happen to the Mother People, to the Goddess?"

It was a question no one could answer.

From a distance, Mara watched the young woman approach Zena outside the hut where the traders were staying. As Mara had instructed, she smiled and held out her baby for Zena to see. Now she was speaking. Mara could see her lips move, knew already the words she would say.

"You must look at the baby, admire her and have only this on your face," the young woman said softly, her own face still wreathed in smiles as she held out the baby.

"I come from Mara," she added, even more softly.

"Oh, such a beautiful baby!" Zena replied obediently, though it was indeed true. "You must be proud of her."

The woman nodded. "She is a beautiful baby. Mara will meet you tonight after dark. When you hear the owl hoot three times you must go to the bushes. She will find you. Be ready. No one must see you. Be very sure of that. I will be watching too."

"I will be ready." Zena smiled and focused on the baby as she spoke, to make sure her face gave nothing away.

Mara watched the two women separate, calling cheerfully to each other; then she returned to her own hut. "I hope she will not lead them to me," she whispered to her mother with a worried frown. "If they knew..."

"They cannot know," Runor replied with a calm certainty Mara had not heard for a long time. "And I am certain the woman Zena will give nothing away."

Mara studied her mother, amazed at the change in her manner. Since Zena had come, strength seemed to have flowed into Runor, and she sounded like a wise one again. Mara hoped she would be careful. Korg would surely notice and guess the reason.

Rofina came in and greeted them. Mara sensed immediately that something was different about her. Her normally placid brow was creased into a frown, as if she were puzzled, and there was tension in her body.

"You are well, Rofina?" Mara asked curiously.

"I am well," Rofina replied. Her frown deepened. "I feel strange, though, as if I have been asleep and am now awake again." She pressed a hand against her eyes in confusion.

"Has something happened?"

"I am not sure," Rofina answered slowly. "Perhaps I should go back to the Leader now," she added, but for the first time Mara could remember, doubt crept into her voice.

Runor approached Rofina and studied her face. "Soon, you can go," she soothed. "Perhaps first you would like to help me grind the grain I have gathered?"

Rofina nodded and began obediently to press the big pestle against the grains. Calmness soon returned to her face, and her taut body relaxed. "It is good to do this," she remarked after a time. "I had forgotten."

"When your arms tire, I will take a turn, and then you can do it again," Mara suggested, hoping that Rofina would tell her more if they worked together as they used to. "The strangers who came have some fine grain for trading," she added. "It is less coarse than this."

"One of the men spoke to me," Rofina answered, and the look of puzzlement returned. "He had a very kind face."

That must be it, Mara thought, astonished. Someone, finally, had penetrated Rofina's aloofness. Joy filled her as she imagined for a moment that it might actually be possible for Rofina to be as she had been before. Fear followed. The Leader might not wish Rofina to be different - especially if a man from another tribe changed her. Korg would not like it either. He would be watching.

Rofina turned back to the pestle; again, the rhythmic action calmed her. Mara watched her sister, and her fear grew. Rofina was so innocent! Even before the loss of her baby, and her mind, Rofina had never understood that not all people were kind, nor had she ever understood the rules the Leader had laid down. Rules had no meaning for her. Nothing had meaning for Rofina except what was in her heart. It had always been so, though before she had not been so child-like. While she remained devoted to the Leader, her simplicity protected her, but now... Now it could bring still more suffering...

Seeking distraction, she began to sing, as she and Rofina had in the past as they went about their chores. Rofina's high, clear voice joined hers. Too late, she remembered that Korg and the Leader did not approve of singing, lest it attract the men's attention. She kept on singing anyway.

"That was beautiful," a voice said, when they stopped to rest for a moment.

Mara looked up sharply. It was one of the young men who had come with Zena. Was this the one who had spoken to Rofina?

The answer was clear from Rofina's face. The puzzled look had gone; in its place was a spark of animation. She rose slowly and went to stand near the man, all the while watching his face carefully.

"I am Durak," the man told Mara. "I know this is Rofina, but I do not know your name."

"I am Mara," she said quietly.

"I am glad to know you, Mara," he answered, and to her relief, his face revealed nothing. Either Zena had not spoken her name, or Durak knew enough to be careful.

"Would you like to look for flowers with me?" he asked Rofina. "I have seen many beautiful ones in the fields."

"That will be fine," Rofina answered, and gave him her hand.

Mara was beside him instantly. "The Leader would not like that," she said urgently to Durak, deciding she must trust him. "He does not like us to be alone with a man unless the man has been chosen by him as the woman's mate. Rofina... Rofina does not always understand."

Durak nodded, and she saw compassion in his eyes. No wonder Rofina liked him!

"Then I will gather some flowers and bring them back," he said cheerfully.

Runor appeared at the entrance to the hut. Gently, Durak disengaged his fingers from Rofina's and went to her. "I am Durak," he said again.

Runor nodded and stared intently into his eyes. "You are welcome here," she said finally, and touched his arm with her gnarled fingers. To his surprise, Durak clasped her hand and held it warmly between his own wide palms. Runor nodded again, seeming to be satisfied with something he could not interpret, then she turned and re-entered the hut.

"She is a very wise woman," Durak remarked, surprising himself again.