Ubba stopped. The tale was told, and now the brown eyes of the clan all turned to her. She waited, pleased that she possessed the truth of his tale in her mind, held as she might hold a bird from a net in her fingers.
She lifted the slivers of rock crystal and went swiftly to work, dipping their sharp edges into the red clay. She drew and drew, dancing before the crowd of clansmen, as excited as she was by the painting. When she had filled the back wall with the story of battle, she stepped away from the pictures, exhausted and afraid of Ubba’s judgment.
She sat again on the heels of her bare feet and rocked back, not daring to look up at the great man as he was lifted from his stool to peer up at the red clay drawings.
He paused at each figure, touching none, as he carefully walked the length of the south wall, seeing the story of his battle there in the pictures she had made of red clay. Then the old man stepped close to her and lifted her chin with his crippled hand.
“Nada, you tell the truth,” he whispered. And he motioned to his eldest grandchild, the son of his daughter Noo, and said, “She is yours.”
Nada fell to her knees in front of the warrior king and kissed his feet, as she had seen other females do when receiving a great honor from their leader. She was saved. Her mother and sister were saved. She let herself be lifted up by Ubba’s grandson, and she glanced quickly at her mother as she was led away to his bed of skins. Nada’s eyes sparkled with joy, for she had been saved by her magic fingers, and now the children she bore would someday be leaders of the people who lived beside the Twin Rivers
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.
KATHY WAS WAITING FOR Jennifer when she came into the dining room for breakfast the next morning. Several of the other guests were already serving themselves from the buffet table, but the house was still quiet. It was not yet seven o’clock.
“Why don’t we have some quiet time for ourselves,” Kathy whispered, coming up to Jennifer and kissing her lightly on the cheek. “How do you feel?”
Jennifer nodded, too distraught even to speak. She let Kathy direct her into a small area off the dining room.
“This used to be the hothouse when the farm was working,” Kathy explained, “but I use it a lot during the cold months. It gets most of the winter sun.”
The bright, sunny room had a vaulted ceiling, large windows, a tiled floor that Jennifer realized was also heated, thick Indian throw rugs, and oversized chairs.
“Sit here, please,” she went on, motioning Jennifer to a deep chair next to a glass table. “Nanci will serve us.”
Jennifer looked up to see a young woman who had been in the audience during the last channeling session.
“Jennifer, this is Nanci Stern. Nanci is teaching our New Age dance classes. That’s something I wish you would try. She also is taking my course on the secrets of the shamans, learning how to bridge the communication gap between humans and other life forms. Aren’t you, Nanci?”
The young woman nodded shyly as she placed a teapot on the glass-topped table.
“The shamans? Who are they?” Jennifer asked, unfolding a damask napkin on her lap.
“You’ve heard the term?”
“Yes, I guess I have,” Jennifer admitted, shrugging. “I mean, somewhere in the recesses of my mind. I must have heard it in an anthropology class I took once.” Again, she felt like a child in a room full of adults.
“Well, primitive cultures had a person whose role was to act as the intermediary between the spirit realm and the society. The shaman altered his or her condition by chanting, singing, or eating psychoactive plants. There have been shamanlike figures in cultures as diverse as Siberia and the West Indies. Voodoo is a good example that’s close to home.”
“And you,” said Jennifer.
“Yes, of course. And other channelers like me. In a way, we’re modern-day shamans. We interpret the other realm, the spirit world, for people.” She nodded toward Nanci, who had gone into the other room. “She has a real gift,” Kathy continued, her eyes shining. “I’m very proud of her. And she has a wonderful relationship with Simon.”
Jennifer kept her eyes down as Kathy poured tea for both of them.
“They’ve been lovers now for about three weeks. It’s wonderful to watch, to see their affection for each other grow and develop. Both of them have so much to give.”
“I thought you said that you and Simon were
“
“Lovers?” Kathy glanced over at Jennifer as she set down the teapot.
“Yes.” Jennifer tried to return Kathy’s gaze, but the woman’s steady, unblinking blue eyes unnerved her and she looked out the windows instead. Through the foggy glass she could see an edge of the frozen lake, and in the distance, farm fields, all bare and snow covered on the bright winter morning.
“We are, Jennifer, and so are Nanci and Simon. It isn’t a secret, you know.” Nanci returned with glasses of orange juice and plates of scrambled eggs, then retreated quickly.
“I’m sorry,” Jennifer began. “I didn’t mean to imply—”
“Nor are we promiscuous here on the farm.”
Now Jennifer looked across at Kathy Dart and simply raised her eyebrows. “What about AIDS?”
“What about it?”
Jennifer shrugged. “I’m sorry,” she said simply. “This is none of my business.”
“But it is!” Kathy insisted, leaning across the table. She sat poised, holding her knife and fork above the heavy brown ceramic plate. “All of you, us, are connected. Nanci, Simon, you, me, and Eileen. We are all part of the oversoul, and therefore, there’s a natural attraction—a physical attraction —among us.”
“Has Eileen slept with Simon?” Jennifer asked without thinking, then quickly added, “I’m sorry. That, too, isn’t my concern.” She stared down at her food.
“I don’t know. I haven’t asked her. It doesn’t matter, does it?”
“Of course not.” Jennifer lifted her fork and tried to eat. She wanted only to get through breakfast, but she realized she had suddenly lost her appetite.
“It is your business, Jennifer, and that is what I am trying to tell you. I know you’re attracted to Simon. I know that he is attracted to you. I am simply saying that there is nothing wrong with that. It is normal! It is healthy! It is right!”
“I’m sorry, that’s not the way I conduct my life.” Jennifer poked at her eggs with her fork, feeling better now that she had answered back.
“Simon approached you last night, didn’t he?”
“Yes. You know that.”
“But I don’t know what happened between you.”
“Nothing.”
“Perhaps not.”
Jennifer glanced over at Kathy, furious now. “Nothing happened, Kathy,” she insisted.
“It is not necessary for Simon to physically sleep with you, Jennifer, for something to happen.”
Jennifer dropped her knife and fork and pushed back her chair.
“Don’t run away from yourself, Jenny.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I came here. I will not be
I do not have to put up with this.” She would pack and leave, she decided. If she had to, she’d walk to the airport, anything to get away from these people.
But Kathy seized her wrist and forced Jennifer back down into her chair.
“I’m sorry,” she said firmly. “But I want you to carefully think about what you are planning to do.”
“And what am I planning?” Jennifer shouted.
“You want to leave. You want to run away,” Kathy calmly told her. “But you cannot escape. It doesn’t do you any good to flee from here. You aren’t going to escape your past—all those lives you have already lived, in other generations, at other times.”