The woman jumped up looking a little guilty, but Creb didn't notice. He was so pleased to see Ayla busily working and talking, he didn't see Iza.

"It'll be ready soon, Creb," Ayla motioned, and smiling, ran up and gave him a hug. It made Creb feel better than he had for a long time. As he settled down on his mat, Uba came running into the cave.

"I'm hungry!" the little girl gestured.

"You're always hungry, Uba." Ayla laughed as she picked up the girl and swung her around. Uba was delighted. It was the first time Ayla felt like playing with her all summer.

Later, after they had eaten, Uba crawled into Creb's lap. Ayla was humming under her breath while she helped Iza clean up. Creb sighed contentedly; it felt much more like home. Boys are very important, he thought, but I think I like girls better. They don't have to be big and brave all the time and don't mind cuddling in a lap to go to sleep. I almost wish Ayla were still a little girl.

Ayla woke the next morning wrapped in a warm glow of antic.i.p.ation. I'm going to have a baby, she thought. She hugged herself, lying in her furs. Suddenly she was eager to get up. I think I'll go down to the stream this morning, my hair needs a washing. She bounced out of bed, but a wave of nausea overcame her. Maybe I'd better eat something solid to see if it will stay down. I've got to eat if I want my baby to be healthy. It didn't stay down, but after she was up for a while, she ate again and felt better. She was still thinking about the miracle of her pregnancy when she left the cave and started for the stream.

"Ayla!" Broud sneered, as he swaggered up and made the signal.

Ayla was startled. She had forgotten all about Broud. She had more important things to think about, like warm cuddly nursing babies, her own warm cuddly nursing baby. Might as well get it over with, she thought, and patiently a.s.sumed the position for Broud to relieve his needs. I hope he hurries, I want to go down to the stream and wash my hair.

Broud felt deflated. Something was missing. There was no response in her at all. He missed the excitement of forcing her against her will. Her seething hatred and bitter frustration, which she had never quite succeeded in covering before, were gone. She wasn't fighting him anymore. She acted as though he wasn't even there, as though she didn't feel a thing. She didn't. Her mind was in another realm, she no more noticed his penetration than his rebukes or sharp blows. It was just one more thing she had to accept and she resigned herself to it. Her calm, self-possessed serenity had returned.

Broud's enjoyment was in dominating her, not in the pleasure of the s.e.xual experience. He found he wasn't stimulated anymore; he had trouble maintaining an erection. After a few times of not reaching a climax at all, he backed off, and soon stopped altogether. It was too humiliating. She might as well be a stone, for all her response, he thought. She's so ugly anyway, I've given her enough of my time. She doesn't even appreciate the honor of the future leader's interest.

Oga welcomed him back, relieved that he seemed to be over his unfathomable attraction for Ayla. She hadn't been jealous; it wasn't something to be jealous about. Broud was her mate, and he gave no indication he was ready to give her up. Any man could relieve his needs with any woman he wanted, there was nothing extraordinary about that. She just couldn't understand why he paid so much attention to Ayla when, for some strange reason, she obviously didn't enjoy it.

For all his rationalizing, Broud was galled at Ayla's sudden indifference. He thought he had finally found a way to dominate her, to break down her wall of reserve once and for all, and he had discovered the pleasure it gave him. It made him all the more determined to find a way to get to her again.

19*

Ayla's pregnancy astounded the whole clan. It seemed impossible that a woman with as powerful a totem as hers could conceive life. Speculation was rampant about the spirit of which man's totem had succeeded in overpowering the Cave Lion, and every man in the clan would have liked to claim the credit-and the boost to his prestige. Some felt it must have been a combination of several totemic essences, perhaps the entire male population, but most opinions fell into one of two camps, divided almost entirely along the lines of age.

Proximity to the woman was the determining factor, which was why most men believed the children of their mates were the result of their own totem's spirit. A woman inevitably spent more time with the man whose hearth she shared; the opportunity for swallowing his totem's spirit was greater. Even though a man's totem might call upon the a.s.sistance of another man's totem during the ensuing battle, or any spirit that happened to be nearby, the vital force of the first totem had primary claim. A helping spirit might be honored with the privilege of beginning a new life, but it was at the discretion of the totem that asked for help. The two men who had been closest to Ayla since she had become a woman were Mog-ur and Broud.

"I say it's Mog-ur," Zoug a.s.serted. "He's the only one with a totem stronger than the Cave Lion. And whose hearth does she share?"

"Ursus never allows a woman to swallow his essence," Crug countered. "The Cave Bear chooses those he will protect, as he did Mog-ur. Do you think a Roe Deer defeated a Cave Lion?"

"With the Cave Bear's help. Mog-ur has two totems. The Roe Deer wouldn't have to go far for help. No one says the Cave Bear left his spirit, I'm only saying he helped," Zoug contended hotly.

"Then why didn't she get pregnant last winter? She lived at his hearth then. It was only after Broud developed his attraction for her, though don't ask me what he ever saw in her. It was after he spent so much time near her that the new life started. A Woolly Rhinoceros is powerful, too. With help, it could have overcome the Cave Lion," Crug argued.

"I think it was everyone's totem," Dorv put in. "The question is, who wants to mate her? Everyone wants the credit, but who wants the woman? Brun asked if any man was willing. If she's not mated, the child will be unlucky. I'm too old, though I can't say I'm sorry."

"Well, I'd take her if I still had a hearth of my own," Zoug gestured. "She's ugly, but she's hardworking and respectful. She knows how to take care of a man. That's more important than good looks in the long run."

"Not me," Crug shook his head. "I don't want the Woman Who Hunts at my hearth. It's all right for Mog-ur, he can't hunt anyway and he doesn't care. But imagine coming back from a hunt empty-handed and eating the meat provided by my mate. Besides, my hearth is full enough with Ika and Borg and the baby, Igra. I'm just glad Dorv can still contribute. And Ika's still young enough to have more-who can tell?"

"I've thought about it," Droog said, "but my hearth is just too full. Aga and Aba, Vorn and Ona and Groob. What would I do with another woman and child? What about you, Grod?"

"No. Not unless Brun commands it," Grod replied tersely. The second-in-command had never quite gotten over a certain uneasiness around the woman who was not born to the Clan. She just made him uncomfortable.

"What about Brun, himself?" Crug queried. "He's the one who accepted her into the clan in the first place."

"Sometimes it's wise to consider the first woman before a man takes a second," Goov commented. "You know how Ebra feels about the medicine woman's status. Iza's been training Ayla. If she becomes a medicine woman of Iza's line, do you think Ebra would like to share a hearth with a younger woman, a second mate, with more status than she? I would take Ayla. When I'm mog-ur, I won't be hunting as much; I wouldn't care if she brought a rabbit or a hamster to the hearth. They're just small animals anyway. I don't even think Ovra would mind a second woman with more status, they get along well. But Ovra wants a baby of her own. It would be difficult for her to share a hearth with a woman and a new baby. Especially when no one ever expected Ayla to have one. I think it was the spirit of Broud's totem who started it; it's too bad he feels the way he does, he's the one who should take her."

"I'm not so sure it was Broud's," Droog said. "What about you, Mog-ur? You could take her for a mate."

The old magician had been quietly watching the men's discussion as he often did. "I've considered it. I don't think it was Ursus or the Roe Deer that started Ayla's baby. I'm not sure if it was Broud's totem either. Her totem has always been an enigma; who knows what happened. But she needs a mate. It's not only that the baby may be unlucky, some man needs to be responsible for it, to provide for it. I'm too old, and if it should be a boy, I couldn't train him to hunt. And she can't do it, she only hunts with a sling. I couldn't mate her anyway. It would be like Grod mating Ovra, especially with Uka still his first mate. To me, she's like the daughter of one's mate, a child of one's hearth, not a woman to be mated."

"It's been done," Dorv said. "The only woman a man cannot mate is his sibling."

"It's not prohibited, but it's not looked upon with favor, either. And most men don't want to. Besides, I've never had a mate; I'm too old to start now. Iza takes care of me, that's good enough. I'm comfortable with her. Men are expected to relieve their needs with their mates once in a while. I haven't had those needs for a long time; I learned to control them long ago. I wouldn't be much of a mate for a young woman. But it may be she won't need one. Iza says she may have a difficult pregnancy, she's already having problems, she may not keep it full term. I know Ayla wants the baby, but it would be better for everyone if she lost it."

As reported to the men, Ayla's pregnancy was not going well. The medicine woman feared there was something wrong with the baby. Many miscarriages were of malformed fetuses, and Iza thought it was better to lose them than to give live birth and have to dispose of a deformed baby. Ayla's morning sickness lasted well beyond the first trimester, and even by late fall when her thickened waist had grown to a bulge, she had trouble keeping food down. When she started spotting and pa.s.sing clots, Iza asked Brun's permission for Ayla to be excused from normal activities and she confined the young woman to her bed.

Iza's fears about Ayla's baby grew with the difficulties of her pregnancy. She felt strongly that Ayla should let the baby go. She was sure it wouldn't take much to dislodge it, for all that her stomach attested to the baby's growth. She feared more for Ayla. The baby was taking too much out of her. Her arms and legs grew thinner in contrast to her expanding middle. She had no appet.i.te and forced herself to eat the special foods Iza prepared for her. Dark circles formed around her eyes and her thick l.u.s.trous hair became limp. She was always cold, just didn't have the physical reserves to keep warm, and spent most of the time huddled close to the fire, bundled in furs. But when Iza suggested that Ayla should take the medicine that would end the pregnancy, the young woman refused.

"Iza, I want my baby. Help me," Ayla pleaded. "You can help me, I know you can. I'll do whatever you say, just help me to have my baby."

Iza could not refuse. For some time she had depended on Ayla to bring her the plants she needed, seldom going out herself. Strenuous exercise brought on coughing spasms. Iza had been keeping herself heavily dosed with medicines to hide the consumptive lung disease that grew worse each winter. But for Ayla she would go out to look for a certain root that helped prevent miscarriage.

The medicine woman left the cave early one morning to search the upland forests and damp barrens for the special root. The sun was shining in a clear sky when she started out. Iza thought it was going to be one of those warm days in late fall and didn't want to burden herself with extra clothes. Besides, she planned to be back before the sun was high. She followed a path into the forest near the cave, then turned off along a creek and began climbing the steep slopes. She was weaker than she thought, her breath was short, and she had to rest often or wait for a racking spasm of coughing to pa.s.s. By midmorning the weather turned. Clouds blew in from the east on a chill wind and when they reached the foothills, dropped their heavy load of moisture in a driving sleet. In the first few moments, Iza was soaked.

The rain had slackened by the time she found the kind of pine forest, and plants, she was looking for. Shivering in the cold drizzle, she dug the roots out of the muddy ground. Her cough was worse on the way back, convulsing her body every few moments and bringing b.l.o.o.d.y foam to her lips. She wasn't as familiar with the terrain around this cave as she had been with the environment of the clan's previous home. She became disoriented, followed the wrong creek down the slope, and had to backtrack before she found the right one. It was nearing dark when the thoroughly wet and chilled medicine woman found her way back to the cave.

"Mother, where have you been?" Ayla gestured. "You're soaked and shivering. Come to the fire. Let me get you some dry clothes."

"I found some rattlesnake root for you, Ayla. Wash it and chew ..." Iza had to stop as another spasm overwhelmed her. Her eyes were feverish, her face flushed: "...chew it raw. It will help you keep the baby."

"You didn't go out in that rain just to find a root for me, did you? Don't you know I'd rather lose the baby than lose you? You're too sick to go out like that, you know you are."

Ayla knew Iza had not been well for years, but until then she didn't know just how sick the woman really was. The young woman forgot her pregnancy, ignored it when she bled occasionally, forgot to eat half the time, and refused to leave Iza's side. When she slept, it was on a fur beside the woman's bed. Uba, too, kept a constant watch.

It was the young girl's first experience with grave illness in one she loved, and the effect was traumatic. She watched everything Ayla did, helped her, and it opened up an understanding of her own heritage and destiny. Uba wasn't the only one who watched Ayla. The whole clan was concerned for the medicine woman and not entirely certain of the young woman's skill. She was oblivious to their apprehension; her complete attention was focused on the woman she called mother.

Ayla searched her brain for every remedy Iza had ever taught her, she questioned Uba for the information she knew was stored in the child's memory, and applied a certain logic of her own. The special talent Iza had noticed, an ability to discover and treat the real problem, was Ayla's forte. She was a diagnostician. From small clues, she could put together a picture like pieces of a puzzle and fill in the blanks with reasoning and intuition. It was an ability for which her her brain alone, among all those who shared the cave, was uniquely suited. The crisis of Iza's illness was the stimulus that sharpened her talent. brain alone, among all those who shared the cave, was uniquely suited. The crisis of Iza's illness was the stimulus that sharpened her talent.

Ayla applied the remedies she had learned from the medicine woman, then tried new techniques that suggested themselves from other uses, sometimes far removed. Whatever it was, the medication, or the loving care, or the medicine woman's own will to live-most likely it was all of them-by the time winter had piled high drifts against the wind barriers at the entrance, Iza was sufficiently recovered to take charge of Ayla's pregnancy again. It was none too soon.

The strain of nursing Iza back to health had its effect. Ayla spotted blood continuously the rest of the winter and lived with a constant backache. She woke in the middle of the night with cramps in her legs and still vomited frequently. Iza expected her to lose the baby anytime. She didn't know how Ayla hung on to it, and she didn't know how the baby could continue to develop with Ayla so weak. But develop it did. The young woman's stomach swelled to unbelievable proportions, and the baby kicked so vigorously and continuously she could hardly sleep. Iza had never seen a woman suffer through a more difficult pregnancy.

Ayla never complained. She was afraid Iza would think she was ready to give the baby up, though she was much too far along for the medicine woman to consider it. Nor did Ayla consider it. Her suffering only made her more convinced that if she lost this one, she would never have another baby.

From her bed, Ayla watched the spring rains wash away the snow, and the first crocus she saw was one Uba brought her. Iza wouldn't let her out of the cave. The p.u.s.s.y willows had blown and turned green, and the first buds hinted at verdant foliage on the soggy spring day early in her eleventh year when Ayla's labor began.

The beginning contractions were easy. Ayla sipped willow-bark tea, talking to Iza and Uba, excitedly pleased that the time had finally come. By the next day, she was sure, she would be holding her own baby in her arms. Iza had reservations but tried not to show them. The conversation turned, as it did so often lately with Iza and her two daughters, to medicine.

"Mother, what was that root you brought me the day you went out and got so sick?" Ayla motioned.

"It's called rattlesnake root. It's not commonly used because it should be chewed when it's fresh, and it must be collected in late fall. It's very good for preventing miscarriage, but how many women threaten to miscarry only in late fall? It loses its effectiveness when it's dried."

"What does it look like?" Uba asked. Iza's illness had sharpened Uba's interest in the healing herbs she would one day dispense, and both Iza and Ayla were training her. But training Uba was different from training Ayla. To gain the full value of her brain, Uba only needed to be reminded of what she knew and see how it was applied.

"It's really two plants, a male and a female. It has a long stalk growing out of a cl.u.s.ter of leaves near the ground, and small flowers clinging close to the top, partway down the stalk. The male flowers are white. The root is from the female plant; its flowers are smaller and green."

"Did you say it grows in pine forests?" Ayla motioned.

"Only damp ones. It likes moisture, bogs, wet places in meadows, often in upland woods."

"You should never have gone out that day, Iza. I was so worried.... Oh, wait, another one is starting!"

The medicine woman studied Ayla. She was trying to judge how long the pains were. It would be a long time yet, she decided.

"It wasn't raining when I started out," Iza said. "I thought it was going to be warm that day. I was wrong. Fall weather is always unpredictable. I've been wanting to ask you something, Ayla. I was delirious with fever part of the time, but I thought you made a chest plaster out of herbs used to relieve Creb's rheumatism."

"I did."

"I didn't teach you that."

"I know. You were coughing so hard, spitting so much blood, I wanted to give you something to calm the spasms, but I thought you should bring up the phlegm without so much effort, too. That medicine for Creb's rheumatism penetrates deep with warmth and stimulates the blood. I thought it might loosen the phlegm so you wouldn't have to cough so hard to bring it up, then I could still give you the decoction to calm the spasms. It seemed to work."

"Yes, I think it did." After Ayla explained her reasoning, it seemed logical, but Iza wondered if she would have considered it. I was right, Iza thought. She is a good medicine woman, and she's going to get better. She deserves the status of my line. I must talk to Creb. It may not be much longer before I leave this world. Ayla is a woman now, she should be medicine woman-if she survives this birth.

After the morning meal, Oga strolled over with Grev, her second son, and sat beside Ayla while she nursed. Ovra joined them soon after. The three young women chatted amiably between Ayla's contractions, though no mention was made of her forthcoming delivery. All through the morning while Ayla was in the first stage of labor, the women of the clan visited Creb's hearth. Some just stopped for a few moments to offer moral support with their presence, some sat with her almost continuously. There were always a few women seated around her bed, but Creb stayed away. He paced nervously in and out of the cave, stopping to exchange a few gestures with the men gathered at Brun's hearth, but not able to stay in one place too long. The hunt planned for that day was postponed. Brun's excuse was that it was still too wet, but everyone knew the real reason.

By late afternoon, Ayla's labor was stronger. Iza gave her a root decoction of a certain yam with special qualities that relieved the pain of childbirth. As the day dragged into evening, her contractions got stronger and closer together. Ayla lay in her bed, drenched with sweat, clutching Iza's hand. She tried to stifle her cries, but as the sun dropped below the horizon, Ayla was writhing in pain, screaming with every convulsion that racked her body. Most of the women couldn't bear to stay near anymore; everyone except Ebra went back to their own hearths. They found some ch.o.r.e to keep busy, glancing up when Ayla started into another agonized scream. Conversation had stopped around Brun's fire, too. The men sat listlessly, staring at the ground. Every attempt at small talk was cut short by Ayla's cries of pain.

"Her hips are too narrow, Ebra," Iza gestured. "They won't let her birth ca.n.a.l open wide enough."

"Would breaking the water sac help? It does sometimes," Ebra suggested.

"I've been thinking of that. I didn't want to do it too soon; she couldn't stand a dry birth. I was hoping it would break itself, but she's getting weaker and not making much progress. Perhaps I'd better do it now. Will you give me that slippery-elm stick? She's starting another contraction, I'll do it when this one is over."

Ayla arched her back and gripped the hands of the two women as a crescendo of convulsing agony was torn from her lips.

"Ayla, I'm going to try to help you," Iza motioned after the contraction pa.s.sed. "Do you understand me?"

Ayla nodded mutely.

"I'm going to break the water, then I want you to get up into a squatting position. It helps if the baby is pushed downward. Can you do it?"

"I'll try," Ayla waved weakly.

Iza inserted the slippery-elm stick, and Ayla's birth waters gushed out, bringing on another contraction.

"Get up now, Ayla," the medicine woman motioned. She and Ebra pulled the weakened young woman up from her bed and supported her while she squatted on the leather hide, like the one placed under all women when they gave birth.

"Push now, Ayla. Push hard." She strained with the next pain.

"She's too weak," Ebra signaled. "She can't push hard enough."

"Ayla, you've got to push harder," Iza commanded.

"I can't," Ayla motioned.

"You must, Ayla. You must or your baby will die," Iza said. She didn't mention that Ayla, too, would die. Iza could see her muscles bunching for another contraction.

"Now, Ayla! Now! Push! Push as hard as you can," Iza urged.

I can't let my baby die, Ayla thought. I can't. I'll never have another baby if this one dies. From some unknown reserve, Ayla drew a last surge of strength. As the pain mounted, she took a deep breath and grabbed Iza's hand for support. She bore down with an effort that brought beads of sweat to her forehead. Her head swam dizzily. It felt as though her bones were cracking, as though she was trying to force her insides out.

"Good, Ayla, good," Iza encouraged. "The head is showing, one more like that."

Ayla gulped another breath of air and strained again. She felt skin and muscles tear, and still she pushed. With a gush of thick red blood, the baby's head was forced through the narrow birth ca.n.a.l. Iza took it and pulled, but the worst was over.

"Just a little more, Ayla, just enough for the afterbirth." Ayla strained once more, felt her head whirl and everything go dark, and collapsed, unconscious.

Iza tied a red-dyed piece of sinew around the newborn's umbilical cord and bit off the rest. She thumped the feet until a mewling cry became a loud squall. The baby's alive, Iza thought with relief as she began to clean the infant. Then her heart sank. After all her suffering, after all she's been through, why this? She wanted the baby so much. Iza wrapped the infant in the soft rabbit skin Ayla had made, then made a poultice of chewed roots for Ayla, held in place with an absorbent leather strap. Ayla groaned and opened her eyes.

"My baby, Iza. Is it a boy or a girl?" she asked.

"It's a boy, Ayla," the woman said, then quickly continued so her hopes would not be raised, "but he's deformed."

Ayla's first hint of a smile turned to a look of horror. "No! He can't be! Let me see him!"

Iza brought the infant to her. "I was afraid of this. It often happens when a woman's pregnancy is difficult. I'm sorry, Ayla."

The young woman opened the cover and looked at her tiny son. His arms and legs were thinner than Uba's when she was born, and longer, but he had the right number of fingers and toes in the right places. His tiny p.e.n.i.s and testes gave mute evidence of his s.e.x. But his head was definitely unnatural. It was abnormally large, the cause of Ayla's difficult delivery, and a little misshapen from his harrowing entrance into the world, but that in itself was no cause for alarm. Iza knew it was only the result of the pressures of birth and would quickly straighten out. It was the conformation of the head, the basic shape, that would never change, that was deformed, and the thin, scrawny neck that was unable to support the baby's huge head.

Ayla's baby had heavy brow ridges, like people of the Clan, but his forehead, rather than sloping back, rose high and straight above the brows, bulging, to Iza's eyes, into a high crown before it swept back in a long, full shape. But the back of his head was not quite as long as it should have been. It looked as though the baby's skull was pushed forward into the bulging forehead and crown, shortening and rounding the back. He had only a nominal occipital bun at the rear and his features were oddly altered. He had large round eyes, but his nose was much smaller than normal. His mouth was large, his jaws were not quite as large as Clan jaws; but below his mouth was a boney protrusion disfiguring his face, a well-developed, slightly receding chin, entirely lacking in Clan people. The baby's head flopped back when Iza first picked him up and she automatically put her hand behind it for support, shaking her own head on her short, thick neck. She doubted if the boy would ever be able to hold his head up.

The baby nuzzled toward the warmth of his mother as he lay in Ayla's arms, already looking to suck as though he hadn't had enough before his birth. She helped him to her breast.

"You shouldn't, Ayla," Iza said gently. "You should not add to his life when it must soon be taken away. It will only make it harder for you to get rid of him."

"Get rid of him?" Ayla looked stricken. "How can I get rid of him? He's my baby, my son."

"You have no choice, Ayla. It's the way. A mother must always dispose of a deformed child she has brought into the world. It's best to do it as soon as possible, before Brun commands it."

"But Creb was deformed. He was allowed to live," Ayla protested.

"His mother's mate was the leader of the clan; he allowed it. You have no mate, Ayla, no man to speak for your son. I told you in the beginning your child could be unlucky if you gave birth before you were mated. Doesn't his deformity prove it, Ayla? Why let a child live that will have nothing but bad luck all his life? It's better to get it over now," Iza reasoned.

Reluctantly, Ayla pulled her son away from her breast, tears overflowing her eyes. "Oh, Iza," she cried, "I wanted a baby so much, a baby of my own like other women. I never thought I'd have one. I was so happy. I didn't care if I was sick, I just wanted my own baby. It was so hard, I didn't think he'd ever come, but when you said he'd die, I had to push. If he has to die anyway, why was it so hard? Mother, I want my baby, don't make me get rid of him."

"I know it's not easy, Ayla, but it must be done." Iza's heart ached for her. The baby was searching for the breast so abruptly withheld, for the security and to satisfy his need to suck. She had no milk for him yet, that would take a day or so; there was only the thick, milky fluid that could impart to the infant her own immunity to diseases for the first few months of his life. He started whimpering and soon let go with a l.u.s.ty howl, flailing his arms and kicking off the cover. His cry filled the cave with the demanding insistence of an angry, red-faced infant. Ayla couldn't stand it. She put him back to her breast.

"I just can't do it," she gestured. "I won't do it! My son is alive. He's breathing. He might be deformed, but he's strong. Did you hear him cry? Did you ever hear a baby cry like that? Did you see him kick? Look how he sucks! I want him, Iza, I want him and I'm going to keep him. I'll leave before I'll kill him. I can hunt. I can find food. I'll take care of him myself!"

Iza paled. "Ayla, you can't mean that. Where would you go? You're too weak, you've lost a lot of blood."