“From our visiting Doniers of the Southern Cave, the Twenty-fourth, from the same person who gave you the herbs we were going to experiment with together. They live near the border of the territory of another people, and have more contact with their neighbors than they do with us. They even exchange mates. I’m surprised they haven’t decided to affiliate, but they are fiercely independent, and take pride in their Zelandonii heritage. I don’t even know what the plant looks like, or if it’s more than one,” the First explained.
Ayla smiled. “I do. It’s one of the first plants I ever learned about from Iza. I’ve heard several names for it, datura, stink leaf; the Mamutoi have a name that would translate as ‘thorn apple.’ It’s tall, rather coarse, with large strong-smelling leaves. It has big white—sometimes purple—flowers, shaped like funnels that flare out, and bears round prickly, thorny fruits. All parts of it are useful, including the roots. If used wrong, it can make people behave strangely, and of course, it can be fatally poisonous.”
All the assembled zelandonia were suddenly very interested, especially the visitors. They were surprised that the young woman they had met earlier in the summer knew so much about it.
“Have you seen it around here?” Zelandoni of the Eleventh asked.
“No, I haven’t,” Ayla said, “and I have been looking for it. I had some with me when I came. But it’s gone and I’d like to replace it. It’s very useful.”
“How do you use it?” the visiting Donier pressed.
“It’s a soporific; prepared one way, it can be used as an anesthetic, or when made another way, to help people relax, but it can be very dangerous. It was used by the mog-urs of the Clan for sacred ceremonies,” Ayla said. It was just these kinds of discussions that she loved best about being in the zelandonia.
“Do different parts of the plant have different uses, or different effects?” Zelandoni of the Third asked.
“I think we should put aside these questions for now,” the First interjected. “We are here for a different purpose.”
Everyone settled back down, and those who had so eagerly asked questions looked a bit embarrassed. The First dipped out a cupful of the simmering liquid and set it aside to cool. The remainder was passed around to the others, who each got some but a smaller amount. When it was cool enough to drink, the Donier gave the cup to Ayla.
“This testing could be done without this drink, using meditation, but it would take longer. The tea seems to help us relax and get in the right state of mind,” Zelandoni explained.
Ayla drank down the cup of tepid, rather foul-tasting tea and then, along with everyone else, assumed whatever pose was most conducive to meditation, and waited. Ayla was at first most interested in consciously observing how the drink was affecting her, thinking about how her stomach felt, how her breathing was affected, whether she could notice a relaxation of her arms and legs. But the effects were subtle. She didn’t notice when her mind wandered off and she found herself thinking about something entirely unrelated. She was almost surprised—if she could have felt surprise—when she became aware that the First was talking to her, in a low, soft voice.
“Are you getting sleepy, Ayla? That’s good. Just relax, let yourself feel sleepy. Very sleepy. Empty your mind and rest. Don’t think of anything, except my voice. Listen only to my voice. Let yourself be comfortable, relax, and hear only my voice,” Zelandoni droned on. “Now, tell me Ayla, where were you when you decided to go into the cave?”
“I was on top of the cliff,” Ayla began, then stopped.
“Go on, Ayla, you were on top of the cliff. What were you doing? Take your time. Just tell the whole story in your own way. There’s no hurry.”
“The Shortday was already marked; the sun had turned around and was going back, heading for winter, but I thought I’d mark a few more days. It was quite late and I was tired. I decided to stir up the fire, make a little tea. I searched in my medicine bag for the mint. It was dark, but I was feeling the knots to find the right bag. I finally found the one by the strong smell of mint. While the tea was steeping, I decided to practice saying The Mother’s Song.” Ayla began to recite the song:
Out of the darkness, the chaos of time,
The whirlwind gave birth to the Mother sublime.
She woke to Herself knowing life had great worth,
The dark empty void grieved the Great Mother Earth.
The Mother was lonely. She was the only.
“It’s my favorite of all the Legends and Histories, so I repeated it while I was drinking the tea,” Ayla said, continuing on with the next few verses.
From the dust of Her birth She created the other,
A pale shining friend, a companion, a brother.
They grew up together, learned to love and to care,
And when She was ready, they decided to pair.
Around Her he’d hover. Her pale shining lover.
She was happy at first with Her one counterpart.
Then the Mother grew restless, unsure in Her heart.
She loved Her fair friend, Her dear complement,