CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES) (59 page)

Zena sighed. 
She herself had never thought to mate with Gunor.  But then, she seldom
felt the desire for Akat now.  Even with Conar, she did not enjoy it as
she had before.  Ever since Tron had forced himself on her, she had felt
wrong somehow, as if her body were not her own.  To describe how she felt
was hard.  She had tried to tell Conar, and he had been wonderfully gentle
and caring, but she was not sure that anyone could truly understand, even one
like Conar.

Perhaps it was
because of Tron's attack that she still felt no joy about the infant within
her, why she still had not spoken to Lune and Menta.  She had thought to
feel delight when she could finally tell them the Mother had given her a child,
but instead the strange sense of wrongness was stronger than ever.  It was
as if Tron had left something of his violence deep within her belly, where the
child also grew, that made her feel sadness about the new life instead of
joy. 

When she finally
gathered her courage and spoke to Lune and Menta, she began to
understand.  No one else was in the cave, for it was a bright day, with
clear sunshine.  Many were hunting, the others were outside, enjoying the
rare warmth.

Trying to sound
cheerful and relaxed, Zena patted her belly.  "The Mother has given
me a little one," she said.

Lune and Menta
traded glances, as they so often did.  Their faces were apprehensive, not
excited as Zena had expected.  A flutter of fear passed through her chest.

"How many
moons have passed?"  her mother asked sharply.

"Five now, at
least,"  Zena replied.  "I suspected this soon after I
arrived here, but now am I certain.  I can feel the child."

Lune took a deep
breath.  "She must be told," she said to Menta.  "We
cannot keep the knowledge from her."

"Yes. 
You are right."  Menta's face turned haggard as she spoke.  It
was an expression that came to her only when she was confronted by a grave
problem, one that was hard even for her to resolve.

"What is this
knowledge?" Zena asked hesitantly.  There was a feeling inside her,
deep and sure, that told her she did not want to know.  She braced
herself, as if for a blow. 

It was Lune who
explained.  Seating herself across from Zena, she spoke slowly, choosing
her words with care. 

"Many years
ago,"  she began, "I came across the knowledge as I watched the
animals.  I saw that the females became swollen with young only after they
had mated, and then I understood that the males had given something of the life
within to the females.  I also saw, among the people, that some of the
children took on the look of a particular man, just as part of its mother often
shows in a child's features.  Akat makes this possible, I realized, for
during Akat the man passes something of himself to the woman who bears the
child.  I did not speak of this knowledge, for it seemed wrong to do so,
though I did not understand why that should be."

"Menta saw
these things, too, but in a different way.  She saw the knowledge through
her visions.  She did not speak of it either, for the visions warned of
great agony among the people if she broke her silence.  The knowledge was
forbidden, the Mother told her, because there were some men who would abuse it,
and all would suffer grievously as a result.  But Menta saw the knowledge
in my mind, as I saw it in hers.  Always, we see this way, as you
know.  And so we spoke together, to think what we should do."

Lune stopped for a
moment to gather her thoughts.  Zena waited dumbly for the next
words.  She knew already what they would be.  The knowledge had been
in her for a long time, though she had not recognized it.

"As I watched
over many years," Lune continued,  "I saw that new life began
more easily when Akat occurred midway between one bleeding and the next. 
That is why Menta and I sent young women like you and Nevilar, to the Ekali
when the moon was only a sliver.  We wanted to give you more time, so you
would be stronger, more able to bear a child and care for it."

A spasm of pain
crossed Lune's face.  To speak of the knowledge was easy, but to speak of
what it meant to Zena was not.  She had to force the next words from her
throat.

"It was at
this time that Tron stole into the Ekali and violated you," she finally
whispered.  "That is why I feared for you, and now what we feared has
happened..."

She could not go
on, and Menta finished her words.  "That is why you must have the
knowledge, Zena, even when it brings pain.  You must know what to
expect." 

Zena did not
speak, could not speak.  She felt as if someone had punched her hard in
the chest, knocked all the air from her body.  Of course these things were
true.  It was not the tree, the sacred figures, that made infants come, as
she had persuaded herself.  It was Akat, the Mother's gift, that made
infants.  And it was Tron who had made this one. 

All of it made
sense now, the feeling of wrongness, the sadness.  She had been
right.  Tron had indeed left something of himself inside her, and now she
must nurture it, struggle to bear it, help it to take its first breath. 
She must suckle it at her breast, watch it grow, be reminded, every day of her
life, that Tron had violated her, that his violence had become part of her,
that she would never rid herself of it.

Anger suffused
her, broke through the wall of pain in her chest. "No!" she
screamed.  "No!  I will not have his child.  Why should
Tron be the one?  I do not want anything of Tron in my body, in my
child."

"All children
are the Mother's,"  Menta reminded her gently.  "That it
why She fears this knowledge, because some men will speak of a child as theirs,
think that they, not the Mother, have given life.  Then they will think
they do not need the Mother.  They will want Her power for
themselves."

Zena did not wait
to hear more.  Ignoring Lune's restraining arm, she fled from the
cave.  She did not want to hear of the Mother, who had allowed this
terrible thing to happen.  She did not want to hear anything, except that
the Mother would somehow take this burden from her.

Menta and Lune
watched her go, their faces drawn with sorrow.  "It does not seem
fair," Lune said.  "Always, it is Zena who suffers."

"Zena is
strong,"  Menta replied somberly.  "That is why the Mother
chooses her.  And perhaps through this challenge Zena will find a way to
help us.  Soon, all will have the knowledge, for it cannot be hidden
forever.  Most men will use it well, for to know that they also help to
create new life will bring them closer to the Mother.  But a few will
not.  These men will come to believe that they, not the Mother, own the
child that comes from a mate’s womb, and will guard that mate jealously from
other men. As time passes, they will even come to believe that they own the
earth they walk upon, and all that grows upon it.  Then, the suffering
will begin, and it is women who will suffer most of all."

CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE

Tron closed his
eyes and listened.  He had found that if he pretended to sleep, the women
talked as if he were not there.  He had learned many things in this
way.  Still, there was much he did not know, though he had been in this
place for almost three moons.  At first, he had understood nothing, for
the people who had found him had different words.  But then, very slowly,
their talk had begun to make sense.  The children had helped, pointing out
objects and people they had named, then testing Tron to see if he
remembered.  Tron had hidden his impatience at having to take lessons once
again from children.  He knew he had to learn the tribe's words if he
wanted to understand the mystery involving Akat the women kept talking
about.  Besides, he liked the ways of this tribe, and he might want to
stay among them.

Zena's lessons had
been useful after all.  These people had accepted him easily, for he knew
how to make his face pleasant whenever he wanted.  No one seemed to guess
that beneath the facade, anger still boiled within him at Zena, at Menta and
the others in his tribe who had wronged him.  He had begun to wonder,
though, if it was necessary to hide his anger.  Everyone here seemed to
admire violence.  The men fought with each other, and shouted at the
women, even hit them sometimes, in front of all the others.  The first
time he had seen this behavior, Tron had been astonished.  But no one
appeared to mind except one very old woman, and the men paid no attention to
her remonstrations.

Still, he was wary
of showing his true feelings until he knew more.  The ways of this tribe
were completely different than his own.  Here, the man who was most strong
and fierce, who was called Dagon, was clearly the leader.  All the others
listened carefully when he spoke and dared not disobey him.  There was no
talk of a wise one, no woman who could heal.  These people did not even
speak of the Mother, the Life-Giver.  Tron had thought at first that they
called Her Goddess, as those in his tribe sometimes did, but then he had
realized they were instead speaking of one who was male.  He was fierce, a
good hunter, just as Dagon was fierce and a good hunter. The thought of a male
god was strange to Tron, but he liked the idea, just as he liked the fact that
the one who led the tribe was a man.  Most appealing of all was the fact
that the men, not the women, were in charge of Akat.

It was lucky these
people, not others, had found him after the lion had attacked.  He would
rather be dead than live again in a tribe like his own.  To be alone,
though, was even better.  Many changes of the seasons, ten at least, he
thought, had passed since he had left the others, and for all that time he had
traveled by himself, with only the animals for company.  At first, he had
barely survived.  Someone had wounded him badly, though he still did not
remember who it was, and he had been terribly weak.  But he had made traps
for small animals, had taken birds and eggs.  As soon as he was strong
enough, he had headed north, following the herds.  He liked the bleakness
of the northern tundra, liked the challenge of trying to kill a big animal by
himself.  Often, he could not, but there were always the traps if he
failed. 

He would have
stayed alone but for the lion.  For two full days, he had tracked a
reindeer he had wounded.  He was about to plunge his spear into its chest
when the lion decided to claim it.  After that, he remembered little until
he had found himself lying in this hut, made of the skins and bones of
animals.  Dagon had told Tron they had rescued him only because he had
battled the lion so fiercely, trying to defend his prize.  The men had
also admired his courage and his skill as a hunter, to take a reindeer by
himself.  Otherwise, they would have let the lion have him, for he was
intruding on their territory.  The meaning of this word, like many others,
remained a mystery to Tron.

The men returned
from the hunt.  Immediately, the women stopped their chattering and went
to serve them with food and water.  One woman did not move fast enough for
Dagon.  He grasped her roughly by the arm.

"I am hungry,
woman," he growled.  "Remember that it is I who feed you. 
If you do not move faster, we will leave nothing for you."

The woman did not
speak, but scurried off as fast as she could.  She was old, Tron saw, and
walking was hard for her. 

Another woman,
young and supple, came up to Dagon.  To Tron's surprise, she sat down
beside the fierce leader and took some of his food.  Dagon did not object
as Tron had expected, but instead put an affectionate arm around the girl.

He looked
teasingly at Tron.  "This one you shall have, Tron, when you are
strong enough.  You will need strength to handle her.  She comes from
my loins, and were she a boy, would follow me, for there is fierceness in
her.  But she is not, and so you shall have her, for I have seen that you
are willing even to fight a lion."

Tron was
confused.  What could Dagon mean, that this girl had come from him? 
How could a man give life?   He did not let his confusion show, but
answered simply.  He had discovered that if he said very little, the
people here thought him wise and strong, and he could also hide all that he did
not know.  

"I thank you,
Dagon," he said.  "That will be good." 

The other hunters,
he noticed, did not look pleased at the fact that the girl, Veeta, would be
given to him.  Some of them glared at him openly.  This, at least, he
did understand, for he had witnessed the giving of a young woman twice already. 
Each man who had killed a big animal by himself was given a woman, as long as
one was available.  Some men had many women; others had only one, or none
at all.  To kill an animal alone took courage and skill. 

It was Dagon who
gave the women.  He asked the man which one he desired, and if Dagon was
in agreement, the woman was given.  Her wishes were ignored.  One
girl, hardly old enough for Akat, had sobbed bitterly, Tron remembered. 
Some of the women had tried to comfort her, but the men had laughed at her
misery, saying she would soon learn to enjoy what a man could give her.

"You may have
to fight for this daughter of mine!"  Dagon exclaimed, looking at the
angry faces of the other men.  He chuckled and cuffed the young woman
lightly on the cheek.

Tron's confusion
deepened.  Women, not men, had daughters.  He did not respond but
only stared at the biggest of the other men until he dropped his eyes. 
Dagon watched approvingly. 

"Get away
from me now, Veeta," he said, cuffing her again.  "You take too
much of my meat.  Go work with the other women, as you should."

"I do not
wish to,"  Veeta pouted, but she rose obediently.  As she passed
Tron, she gave him a quick look of unconcealed ardor that made him grow hard
with desire.  Until now, he had been too weak to think seriously of Akat,
for the lion had wounded him badly.  Veeta had changed that.  He
would have her soon, even if he had to fight the other men.