CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES)

by LAMBERT, JOAN DAHR

  Tron was not sure why he had followed Nevilar and Zena, except that he enjoyed tricking those who tried to watch him, and that he liked to do what no one wanted him to do. Menta no longer asked someone to watch during his lessons, but he was aware that Krost or Tragar often kept an eye on him anyway. Today, Tragar had been nearby, but he was slow in his thinking, even if he was strong, and Tron had easily managed to lose him. And to follow the two young women to the Ekali excited him. No men were permitted to be here. He, Tron, had come anyway.

  He peered into the enclosure. He wanted to see what the women did in this place they thought was so special. Before, he had not dared to come, for he had been afraid the Mother would somehow know and punish him. Now he knew the Mother was not so powerful after all. He had disobeyed Her by having Akat with Nevilar, and nothing had happened. Menta was not as powerful as she thought, either, for she had not been able to stop him from doing what he wanted. She was only a woman, after all, and women were weak. He did not understand why they were considered so important. Just because they had young ones, they thought they were special - but most of them could not even kill the big animals. That was far more important.

  Zena, especially, acted superior because one day she might become a wise one. His eyes hardened as he watched her enter the Ekali. He hated her, hated the lessons, hated the fact that she could tell him what to do. A woman should not be able to tell someone like him what to do. That was wrong. And the things she taught him had no meaning. They were only words. What else could they be? He had never felt these emotions she spoke of. He did not think anyone had. It was just the women's way of being important.

  Except Akate. That he felt. Akate was lust, and that was all there was to Akat. Zena kept trying to tell him of other kinds of Akat, but he paid little attention. Tron felt himself grow hard as he watched her. She made him feel lust, and the more he came to resent her, the stronger it became. He had seen desire on her face, too, and it had inflamed him even further. She was teasing him with it, showing desire and then refusing to act on it. One day, he would have her anyway, whether she liked it or not. The thought was exciting.

  He lowered himself into a crook between two branches and sat as still as one of the great cats as he watched the two young women. Much time must pass before darkness came, and until then, he would not move.

  Zena, too, entered the Ekali eagerly. The familiar place seemed to welcome her, and immediately she felt more peaceful. It was good that she and Nevilar would have some time together here. Perhaps they could talk, and she could try to understand what was bothering her friend. That something was bothering her Zena did not doubt. She had seen the rush of emotion in Nevilar's face when she had offered to help with the bruises. She could feel Nevilar's tension, too, and her unhappiness.

  Zena set about making a fire, while Nevilar washed the berries and grains they had brought in the stream that flowed through the small enclosure. The strain left their faces as they worked. They felt completely safe here, even by themselves, for the Ekali was surrounded by a thick barrier of thorny brush. Branches were added every year, and now the wall was high and deep, strong enough to discourage even the most determined predator. There was nothing else to harm them, so they never worried. Still, Zena kept looking up uneasily. She had a tingling feeling in the middle of her back, as if she were being watched. But she had seen no tracks of lions or tigers, and even if one lurked nearby, it was unlikely to leap over the barrier, especially when there was a fire inside.

  Probably it was just her imagination, she decided, or came from spending so much time on her guard with Tron. Even here, she could not seem to forget him completely. She was glad Lune was coming later. Then, she could truly relax, for with Lune, she always felt safe. She turned her back to the fire and felt its warmth pull away the tingling sensation. Perhaps, after all, she had just been cold.

  Nevilar came to join her. She was shivering, Zena noticed, despite the garment that hung from her shoulders. The sun had hidden behind scurrying clouds, and the temperature was dropping. She pulled out an extra fur she had brought and wrapped it around Nevilar. Again, tears welled up in the young woman's eyes.

  Zena pretended not to notice them. "The fire will keep us warm," she said, patting the ground beside her so that Nevilar would sit. "Soon we will need coverings for our feet as well. See, I have brought some fur so we can work together."

  She brought out the fur, taken from long-eared animals that had feet for walking above the snow. In winter, they were white; in summer, brown. Zena loved to watch their long ears twitch, see them leap and twist as they ran, and she was always sorry when they were killed. Still, they would live again one day, and in the meantime, she would have warm feet.

  Handing Nevilar a needle made of bone and a piece of the strong, thin animal gut they used as thread, she began to work. They sat in silence for a long time.

  "You are unhappy, I think, Nevilar," Zena said finally, when she thought her friend was relaxed enough not to mind her words. "I would like to help if I can."

  Nevilar jumped. She had been deep in thought, and had not expected Zena to speak. In this place that was so filled with the Mother's presence, the guilt she was able to repress when she was with Tron weighed heavily on her heart. She had disobeyed Menta, violated the Mother's command. Here, she could not hide that fact, even from herself.

  Without warning, tears began to splash onto the soft fur in her hands. She wanted desperately to answer Zena, to tell her of the secret liaisons with Tron, but she did not dare. If she did, the others would find out, and then they might banish her.

  A sob escaped and became a hiccup as Nevilar tried to disguise it. Zena waited again for many minutes, then began to speak, very quietly.

  "I, too, feel unhappiness right now. I feel it because of Tron. It is hard to teach feelings to one who seems not to know them. But if I do not, all will suffer. And sometimes I am afraid of him. I do not know why, but - "

  "I, too," Nevilar said, interrupting without thinking. She clapped her hand to her mouth, horrified at her words.

  "Tron has frightened you too?"

  Nevilar's eyes, still round with horror at her mistake, met Zena's for the first time in many months. Slowly, her resentment crumbled. She saw compassion in Zena's eyes, and concern, but there was no hint of superiority or pride. Instead, she saw the same quiet strength she had come to expect from Menta, the same promise of wisdom, and she understood why Zena would one day be a wise one. The words began to pour out of her mouth.

  "He comes to me, to my place of mating. He has come many times, and I have wanted him there... I have wanted him so badly. But sometimes he hurts me. It is because he cares for me; that is why he hits me, because he does not want me to be with others, but I must take others.

  "It is because of you too. He hates those lessons. He hates them. And then he comes to me, and I..."

  Nevilar gulped, as if she were trying to swallow the words even as they sprang from her lips. "I have Akat with him. I have Akat because I wanted to help him. He cares for me and I wanted to help, but now I am afraid. And Menta - I have disobeyed her, and I have disobeyed the Mother..."

  Nevilar gave in to the sobs that consumed her. Zena listened to the wrenching noises, and her lips tightened.

  "It is Tron who has bruised you?"

  Nevilar nodded. Zena leaned over and picked up the garment that had fallen from her friend's shoulders and wrapped it around her protectively. Nevilar grabbed her hand and held it.

  "Will they send me away?"

  "No, Nevilar. I do not think Menta will do that. But you must speak to her, tell her what you have told me, and you must speak to the Mother, ask Her forgiveness. The Mother forgives all things if you are sincere."

  Uneasiness gripped Zena despite her calm words. Nevilar's confession had shocked her, not just because of what she had done, but because of Tron's cruelty. Never had she known a man to hurt a woman on purpose, as Tron had hurt Nevilar. He must have hit her very hard, pi
nched her viciously, to make such bruises. And if he could do that, even as he was coming to her with his face set in pleasant lines, hating the lessons, hating her, and hiding that hate...

  It was not Tron she had been seeing. He was other than that, a person she could barely fathom.

  Zena shivered convulsively. She had been right. Tron could name the feelings she had tried so hard to describe, but he did not know what they were.

  Something is lacking in Tron. The words she had spoken at the council came back to her, only now she knew her first understanding was wrong. Tron did not lack just the ability to read faces. As Menta had feared, he lacked the ability to feel love or kindness at all. They were not there inside him.

  She felt afraid suddenly. Even here, in this special place, there was fear. She must go, take Nevilar with her and go back to the others. Zena knew it absolutely, and she stood, ready to stamp out the fire, so they could leave.

  A slight sound behind her made her look up in relief. Lune must have decided to come early. They would be all right now. Lune had come.

  She froze. It was not Lune. It was Tron. He stood, hands on hips, rolling on his toes a little, as if he were about to spring. He was staring at Nevilar. She had not seen him, for her head was buried in her hands. But Zena saw, and her heart shrank with fear. There was fury in his eyes, a terrible consuming fury.

  Nevilar looked up and gasped in terror. Before she could move, Tron lunged at her and grabbed her hair with one hand. Grunting, he hit her across the face, over and over again. She screamed and tried to pull away. But he had her hair, and every time she moved, he jerked it as he hit her again.

  "You have betrayed me," he snarled. "You have told!"

  Nevilar pummeled his wrist, begging him to stop. Her actions only increased his rage. Savagely, he pulled his arm back, then shoved his fist into her mouth with all his strength. The crunching sound of the blow satisfied him. She deserved to be hit! He had warned her.

  "Tron! Stop!" Zena hauled at his arms. She succeeded in holding the arm that was hitting Nevilar. Tron gave Nevilar's head a final wrenching twist and turned on Zena.

  He stood for a moment, enjoying the fear in her eyes. She was the one he really wanted to hurt. Every day, he had been forced to listen to her, be with her, but he could not have her, even when he saw desire on her face. Then she had said it was not for him, but for the lesson. Well, he would show her who it was for. He would have her now, take her by force. That would hurt her most of all. She thought she could control him, control Akat, but he would make her do what he wanted, and she would not be able to stop him. Menta had not stopped him, the Mother had not stopped him, and Zena would not stop him.

  Savagely, he bent her arm backward, then punched her hard in the face with his other hand. She gasped in pain.

  Nevilar pounded on Tron's back. "No! I will come with you. No, Tron, you must not hurt Zena. I will come!"

  Tron turned and hissed at her through his teeth as he wrestled Zena's arms behind her back. "I do not care for you. I cared only for Akate. That you have given me. Now I will have it elsewhere."

  Nevilar's face crumpled and she turned away. But then Zena screamed as Tron shoved his knee in her belly and forced her to the ground. Grabbing a stick, Nevilar whacked at his thick shoulders. He turned quickly and slammed his fist into her chest. Her body sagged and she fell back.

  Zena clenched her jaw and strained upward, trying to free her arms. But Tron was on top of her now and she could not move at all. He was trying to force her legs apart, pushing and shoving. She willed them closed. Quick as a cat, he brought one arm around and punched the side of her thigh. She gasped, and for an instant, her muscles relaxed. He shoved his legs between hers. And then, before she could even take another breath, he was inside her. Gasping heavily, he thrust in and out, then shook convulsively as he ejaculated. In that instant, Zena freed her arms. She pounded at him relentlessly, but he seemed not even to feel her blows. He lay there, satiated, triumphant.

  Rage filled Zena, that he had done this terrible thing, that he had hurt her, hurt Nevilar. She twisted out from under his heavy body and stood over him, shaking with anger. He grabbed her arm and hauled her savagely back to the ground. Zena raised her other arm, to hit him, but at just that moment, a body came hurtling into the Ekali.

  "Conar!" Zena only whispered his name, but Tron heard. He leaped to his feet. Conar ran straight into Tron's hard body and began to pummel him wildly with both fists. Tron staggered under the barrage of blows, but quickly recovered. He took a step backward and then lunged at the smaller male, grasping him around the waist with strong, clenching arms. Oblivious to the rain of blows landing on his back, he wrestled Conar to the ground and knelt on his chest. Conar reached up to tear at the hard face above him, but Tron only lowered his head and began to pound it against Conar's neck. Over and over he pounded. Conar jerked wildly, trying to escape, but Tron was much heavier and stronger, and he could not budge. He groaned in an agony of helplessness, but then the groaning ceased, for Tron had placed both hands around his neck and had begun to squeeze.

  A croaking noise came from Conar. Zena heard it, and she moved. Grabbing one of the big rocks that surrounded the fire, she brought it down on Tron's head with all the strength, all the rage in her body. The movement satisfied her, and she raised the rock to hit him again. She wanted to hit him over and over, as many times as she could, until he could not hurt her or any of the others any more. But before she could lower her arms, Tron fell forward across Conar's chest, then slid to the ground in a crumpled heap.

  Zena held the rock against her chest, paralyzed with horror. Tron's body jerked once convulsively, and a strange croak came from his throat. After that, he did not move again.

  **************************

  Menta looked up from her task, her eyes suddenly alert. Something was wrong. She could feel it, as if the terrible thing were happening in front of her. But she did not know what it was, or where it was happening.

  "Lune!" Her voice was sharp as she called to her sister. Usually, both of them felt wrongness when it came.

  Lune came running, alerted by the tone in Menta's voice. But she had felt it herself, even before that.

  "I think it is Zena. We must go to the Ekali, quickly."

  Calling to Bakan and Tragar, who were working nearby, they ran into the woods. Tragar caught up to them.

  "I was watching Tron, but he hid from me."

  Menta nodded, saving her breath for running. She had known; from the beginning she had known. Why had she let Zena talk her into leaving them alone? Except Tron could not be with her today. She and Nevilar were at the Ekali, and surely Tron would not go there.

  "Where is Conar?" It was Lune's voice. She had watched Conar, had seen how he followed Tron everywhere, even though Tron never knew. He would know where Tron was.

  Bakan shook his head. "I have not seen Conar."

  Lune pressed her fingers against her mouth as she ran, to keep from crying out. She could feel it, feel that something had happened to Zena.

  Her heart thudded with joy when she saw Zena standing by the fire. Then her eyes took in the whole scene, and she gasped in horror. Blood covered Zena's hands, and her face was swollen and bruised. Nevilar was worse. She was groaning, rocking herself back and forth in agony, and when she looked up, Lune saw that one of her eyes was black, and blood dribbled from her mouth. The scene on the ground was appalling. Conar lay still as death, his face gray. As she watched, he began to choke and spit, trying to breathe. Lune ran to him and raised his head, wondering why Zena had not come to him first. She was right beside him.

  Something else was beside him. Lune glanced at the still form, and closed her eyes in agony. It was Tron - except it was not Tron anymore. He was dead; she was certain of it, for his skull was a mass of blood. She did not look again.

  How had he died? Had Conar killed him? But that could not be... Lune's thoughts raced, and then her eyes darted again to Zena. She had not moved. Sh
e stood there, as still as if she were made of stone. Menta was standing before her, with a look of absolute pity on her face.

  "You must tell us what happened." Menta's voice was soft, compelling, but Zena did not answer. Her eyes were focused inward, and she did not seem to hear Menta's question, or even to notice that they had come.

  Menta went to Nevilar and took her face in her hands, so that she would have to look up.

  "It is my fault," Nevilar sobbed. "I have made these terrible things happen because I disobeyed the Mother. It is all my fault. You must send me away, banish me!"

  Menta frowned, puzzled, then her eyes narrowed as she began to guess. She had wondered what was bothering Nevilar. The girl had been unhappy, nervous, as if she were doing something she should not do. She had been bruised too. Was it possible Tron had inflicted the bruises? With a shock of recognition as sharp as a physical blow, Menta realized it was true. She had not known such cruelty was possible, except in the visions.

  Zena's voice, cold and hard, cut into her thoughts. "No, Nevilar. Yours is not the fault. It is mine. I have killed Tron, and that is a sin against the Mother far greater than Akat. To kill another is forbidden, but to kill in anger is worse, and can never be forgiven. That is the worst sin of all, and that is what I have done."

  Zena's words hung in the air. No one knew how to respond. Even Menta's voice was stilled, for she knew Zena spoke the truth. To kill in anger was violence, and that the Mother did not tolerate. All else but violence, She would forgive.

  Menta's heart sank within her. This was the beginning. Because Tron was violent, because one single man was violent, they would all suffer. Zena would suffer most of all.

  "No." Lune's voice was passionate, filled with courage. "That is not right. Zena may have killed in anger, but she has not killed for no reason. Tron was dangerous to all of us. Perhaps this is what the Mother intended her to do. Perhaps by killing Tron, Zena has saved us, and all who will come after, from the violence Menta has foreseen."