THE SHELTERS OF STONE

There were nine women inside, making the dwelling feel rather small and cramped. Six of them held infants, all newborn or slightly older; three were in the late stages of pregnancy. In addition, two toddlers played on the floor. They all knew each other, more or less, some only in passing, though two were sisters, but conversation flowed easily. They compared babies and discussed the intimacies of birth, nursing, and learning to live with a new and often demanding individual in their households. They stopped talking and looked up at the new arrivals, showing various expressions of surprise.

"You all know who Ayla is, so I won't go through a long formal presentation," Proleva said. "You can introduce yourselves later."

"Who's the girl?" a woman said. She was older than most of the others, and one of the toddlers got up and walked to her at the sound of her voice.

"And the baby?" someone else asked.

Proleva looked at Ayla, who had felt rather overwhelmed by all the mothers when she first walked in, and it was obvious they were not shy, but their questions gave her a way to begin.

"This is Lanoga, Tremeda's oldest daughter. The baby is her youngest, Lorala," Ayla said, sure some of them should have known the children.

"Tremeda!" the older woman said. "Those are Tremeda's children?"

"Yes, they are. Don't you recognize them? They belong to the Ninth Cave," Ayla said. There was a murmur among the women as they spoke to each other under their breaths. Ayla caught comments both about her unusual accent and the children.

"Lanoga is her second child, Stelona," Proleva said. "You must remember when she was born, you helped. Lanoga, why don't you bring Lorala and sit down here, next to me." The women watched as the girl lifted the baby from her hip and walked toward the leader's mate, then sat down with Lorala on her lap. She would not look at the other women, but watched only Ayla, who smiled at her.

"Lanoga came to get Zelandoni because Bologan was hurt. He had been in a fight and had a head injury," Ayla began. "It was only then that we discovered a more serious problem. This baby can count only a few moons, and her mother's milk has dried up. Lanoga has been taking care of her, but she only knew how to feed her mashed-up cooked roots. I think you all know that no baby can live or grow if all she has to eat is cooked roots." Ayla noticed that the women hugged their infants to them more closely. It was a reaction almost anyone could interpret, and now they were beginning to get an idea of what Ayla was leading up to.

"I come from a place far from the land of the Zelandonii, but no matter where or with whom we are raised, there is one thing all people know: a baby needs milk. Among the people I grew up with, when a woman lost her milk, the other women helped to feed her baby." They all knew Ayla was talking about the ones that they called flatheads, considered to be animals by most Zelandonii. "Even those with older children, who didn't have much extra, would offer her breast to the baby now and then. Once, when a young woman lost her milk, another woman, who had more than enough for her own baby, treated the other baby almost as her own, and fed them as though they were two born together," Ayla said. What about a woman's own baby? What if she doesn't have enough milk left for her?" one of the pregnant women asked. She was quite young, and it was likely her first.

Ayla smiled at her, then looked at the other women and included them. "Isn't it wonderful how a mother's milk will increase with her need? The more she nurses, the more milk she makes."

"That's entirely correct, especially in the beginning," said a voice from the entrance that Ayla recognized. She turned and smiled at the rotund woman coming in. "I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner, Proleva. Laramar came to see Bologan and began questioning him. I didn't approve of his methods and went to get Joharran, but between them, they did finally get some answers out of that young man about what happened."

The women began an excited murmuring among themselves. They were very curious and hoped Zelandoni would say more, but knew it wouldn't do any good to ask. She would tell them only as much as she wished them to know. Proleva removed a tall watertight basket, half-full of tea, from a stone block off to the side and put a stuffed pad on it; it was Zelandoni's permanent seat in the leader's dwelling, put to other uses when she wasn't there. When the donier sat down, she was handed a cup of the beverage. She took it and smiled at everyone.