“Ayla! Are you sure?” Marthona asked with a smile. She did think it was a rather strange way of saying that the Mother had Blessed her—carrying Jondalar’s baby—even if it probably was the child of his spirit.
“As sure as anyone can be. I have missed two moon times, I feel a little sick in the mornings, and I’m aware of some changes in me that usually mean pregnancy,” Ayla said.
“How wonderful!” Jondalar’s mother said. She reached over and gave Ayla a hug. “If you are already Blessed, it brings luck to your mating, or so people claim.”
Sitting at the low table, the young woman untied the leather-wrapped package and tried to shake the wrinkles out of the tunic and leggings that had been carried across a continent through every season for the past year. Marthona examined the outfit and quickly saw past the creases as she realized what magnificent garments they were. Ayla would most definitely stand out at the Mating Ceremonial wearing this.
First of all, the style was utterly unique. Both men and women of the Zelandonii, with some differences and variations related to gender, usually wore rather loosely bloused pullover tunics, belted at the hips, with various embellishments of bone, shell, feather, or fur and fringes of leather or cordage. Women’s clothing, particularly the clothes they wore for special occasions, often had long hanging fringes that swayed as they walked, and a young woman quickly learned how to make the dangling decoration accentuate her movements.
Among the Zelandonii, a naked woman was an ordinary sight, but fringes were considered very provocative. It wasn’t that women didn’t usually wear clothing, but removing clothes to wash or change or for whatever reason in their close-knit society with relatively little privacy was hardly given a thought. On the other hand, a fringe, especially a red fringe, could give a woman an allure so tantalizing, it could drive men to extremes, on rare occasions even violence because of a particular association.
When women took on the role of donii-women—when they were making themselves available to teach young men about the Great Earth Mother’s Gift of Pleasure—they wore a long red fringe dangling around their hips to denote their important ritual status. On hot days of summer, they often wore little more than the fringe.
While donii-women were protected by custom and convention from inappropriate advances and, in any case, they tended to stay in certain areas when they wore the red fringe, it was believed dangerous for a woman to wear such a fringe at any other time. Who could tell what it might drive a man to do? Though women often wore fringes of colors other than red, any fringe invariably had some erotic implications.
As a result, the word “fringe,” in subtle innuendo or crude jokes, often carried the double meaning of pubic hair. When a man was so captivated by a woman that he couldn’t stay away from her or stop looking at her, it was said that he was “snared by her fringe.”
Zelandonii women wore other decorations or sewed them to their clothing, but they particularly liked to wear fringes that moved sensuously when they walked, whether they decorated a warm winter tunic or a naked body. And though they avoided explicitly red fringes, many women chose colors that contained a strong hint of red.
Ayla’s Mamutoi outfit had no fringes, but there was no doubt that a tremendous amount of effort had been put into making it. The leather, which was of the finest quality, was a rich, earthy, golden yellow hue that almost matched the color of her hair, the result primarily of yellow ochres mixed subtly with reds and other colors. The hide had probably come from deer of some variety, or perhaps saiga antelope, Marthona thought, though it wasn’t the usual velvety soft buckskin of a well-scraped hide. Instead, although it was very soft, the leather had a burnished, shiny finish that was somewhat waterproof.
But the quality of the basic garments was only the beginning; it was the exquisite decoration that made the outfit so extraordinary. The long leather tunic and the lower part of the leggings were covered with elaborate geometric designs made predominantly of ivory beads, some sections solidly filled in. The designs began with downward pointing triangles, which developed horizontally into zigzags and vertically into diamonds and chevrons, then evolved into complex geometric figures such as rectangular spirals and concentric rhomboids.
The ivory beaded designs were highlighted and defined by many small amber beads in shades both lighter and darker than the leather, but of the same tone, and with embroideries of red, brown, and black. The tunic, which fell to a downward-pointing triangle at the back, opened down the front, with the section below the hips tapering so that when it was brought together, another downward-pointing triangle was created. It was tied closed at the waist with a finger-woven sash in a similar geometric pattern made of red mammoth hair with accents of ivory mouflon wool, brown musk ox underdown, and deep reddish-black woolly rhinoceros hair.
The outfit was stunning, a magnificent work of art. The workmanship in every detail was excellent. It was evident that someone had secured the finest materials and utilized the most skillful and accomplished artisans to create the finished outfit, and no effort had been spared. The beadwork was a good example. Though Marthona saw them only as a huge number, more than three thousand ivory beads made from mammoth tusk were sewn onto the garments, and each small bead had been carved, pierced, and polished by hand.
Jondalar’s mother had never seen anything like it, but she knew immediately that whoever had directed the outfit to be made commanded great respect and held a very high position within the community. It was clear that the time and labor that went into the making of it were incalculable, yet the outfit had been given to Ayla when she left. None of the benefits of the resources and work would stay within the community that made it. Ayla said she had been adopted, but whoever had adopted her obviously possessed tremendous power and prestige—in effect, wealth—and no one understood that better than Marthona.
No wonder she wants to wear her own Matrimonial outfit, Marthona thought, and she should. It won’t hurt Jondalar’s prestige, either. This young woman is certainly full of surprises. Without question, she is going to be the most talked about woman at the Summer Meeting this year.
“The outfit is striking, Ayla, really quite beautiful,” Marthona said. “Who made it for you?”
“Nezzie did, but she had a lot of help.” Ayla was pleased by the older woman’s reaction.
“Yes, I’m sure she did,” Marthona commented. “You’ve mentioned her before, but I don’t recall exactly who she is.”
“She’s the mate of Talut, the headman of the Lion Camp, the one who was going to adopt me, but then Mamut did instead. I think it was Mamut who asked Nezzie to make it.”
“And Mamut is One Who Serves the Mother?”
“I think he may have been First, like your Zelandoni. Anyway, he was certainly the oldest. I think he was the oldest Mamutoi alive. When I left, my friend Deegie was expecting, and her brother’s woman was almost ready to give birth. Both children would be counted his fifth generation.”
Marthona gave a knowing nod. She knew that whoever had adopted Ayla had a great deal of influence; she hadn’t realized he was probably the most respected and powerful person of all his people. That explained a lot, she thought. “You said there were certain customs associated with wearing this?”
“The Mamutoi do not think it’s appropriate to wear a Matrimonial outfit before the ceremony. You can show family and close friends, but you are not supposed to wear it in public,” Ayla said. “Would you like to see how the tunic looks?”
Jondalar grunted and turned over in his sleep, and Marthona glanced in the direction of their sleeping furs. She lowered her voice even more. “So long as Jondalar is still asleep. We do not consider it appropriate for him to see you in your Matrimonial clothing until the ceremony.”
Ayla slipped off her summer tunic and picked up the heavy, ornately decorated one. “Nezzie told me to wear it closed like this if I just want to show someone,” Ayla whispered as she tied it closed with the sash. “But for the ceremony, it should be open, like this,” she said, rearranging the garment and retying the sash. “Nezzie said, ‘A woman proudly shows her breasts when she is joined, when she brings her hearth to form a union with a man.’ I’m not really supposed to wear it open before the mating ceremony, but since you are Jondalar’s mother, I think it’s right for you to see.”
Marthona nodded. “I am very pleased that you showed me. It is our custom to show Matrimonial clothing before the occasion only to women, intimate friends or family, but I don’t think anyone else should see yours just yet. I think it would be …,” Marthona paused and smiled, “interesting to surprise everyone. If you like, we can hang it in my room so the creases can straighten out. A little steam would help, too.”
“Thank you. I’ve been wondering where I could put it. Can this beautiful tunic that you gave me stay in your room, too?” Ayla paused, remembering something else. “And I have another tunic I would like to put somewhere, one I made. Would you keep that for me?”
“Yes, of course. But put your outfits away for now. We can do it after Willamar wakes up. Is there anything else you’d like me to keep?” Marthona said.
“I have necklaces and things, but they can stay in my traveling packs, since I’ll be taking them with me to the Summer Meeting,” Ayla said.
“Do you have much?” Marthona couldn’t resist asking.
“Only two necklaces, including the one from you, an armband, two spiral shells for my ears, given to me by a woman who dances, and two matched pieces of amber that Tulie gave me when I left. She was the headwoman of the Lion Camp, Talut’s sister, and Deegie’s mother. She thought I should wear them on my ears at my mating, since they would match the tunic. I would like to, but my ears are not pierced,” Ayla said.
“I’m sure Zelandoni would be happy to pierce them for you, if you want,” Marthona said.
“I think I would. I don’t want any other piercings, at least not yet, but I would like to wear the matched ambers when Jondalar and I are mated, and the outfit from Nezzie.”
“This Nezzie must have been quite fond of you to have done so much for you,” Marthona commented.
“I certainly was fond of her,” Ayla replied. “If it hadn’t been for Nezzie, I don’t think I would have followed Jondalar when he left. I was supposed to mate with Ranec the next day. He was the son of her brother’s hearth, although she was more like a mother to him. But Nezzie knew Jondalar loved me, and she told me that if I really loved him to go after him and tell him so. She was right. It was hard to tell Ranec I was leaving, though. I did care for him, very much, but I loved Jondalar.”
“You must have, or you would not have left people who held you in such high regard to come home with him,” Marthona said.
Ayla noticed Jondalar shifting around again and stood up. Marthona sipped her tea, watching the young woman as she refolded her Matrimonial outfit, then the woven tunic, and put them in her traveling pack. When she returned, she motioned toward her sewing kit, which was on the table.
“My thread-puller is in that,” Ayla explained. “Perhaps we can go out in the sunlight after Jondalar’s morning tea is ready, and I’ll show it to you.”
“Yes, I would like to see it.”
Ayla went around to the cooking hearth, added wood to the fire, then some cooking stones to heat, and measured out some dried herbs in the palm of her hand for Jondalar’s tea. His mother was thinking that her first impression of Ayla was right. She was attractive, but there was more to her than that. She seemed genuinely concerned about Jondalar’s welfare. She would make a good mate for him.
Ayla was thinking about Marthona, admiring her quiet, self-assured dignity and regal grace. She felt that Jondalar’s mother had a great depth of understanding, but Ayla was sure that the woman who had been leader could be very strong if she had to be. No wonder her people hadn’t wanted her to step down after her mate died, the young woman thought. It must have been difficult for Joharran to follow after her, but he seemed comfortable in the position now, as far as she could tell.
Ayla quietly placed Jondalar’s cup of hot tea near him, thinking she would have to find some of the twigs he liked to use to clean his teeth, after he chewed the ends. He liked the taste of wintergreen. She would look for the evergreen that resembled willow the first chance she had. Marthona finished her tea, Ayla picked up her sewing kit, and both women slipped quietly out of the dwelling. Wolf followed them.
It was still early when they reached the stone front terrace. The sun had just opened its brilliant eye and peeked over the edge of the eastern hills. Its bright glare gave the rock of the cliff a warm ruddy glow, but the air was refreshingly cool. Not many people were moving about yet.
Marthona led them toward the edge near the dark circle of the signal fire. They sat on some large rocks that had been arranged around it, with their backs to the blinding radiance that was climbing through the red-and-gold haze to the cloudless blue vault. Wolf left them and continued down to Wood River Valley.
Ayla untied the drawstring of her sewing kit, a small leather bag sewn together around the sides and gathered at the top. Missing ivory beads that had once formed a geometric pattern and frayed threads of embroidery betrayed the heavy use of the worn pouch. She emptied the small objects it contained into her lap. There were various sizes of cords and threads made of plant fibers, sinew, and animal hair, including several of the wool of mammoth, mouflon, musk ox, and rhino, each wound around small bone phalanges. Several small, sharp blades of flint used for cutting were tied together with sinew, as was a bundle of awls of bone and flint that were for piercing. A small square of tough mammoth hide served as a thimble. The last objects were three small tubes made of hollow bird bones.
She picked up a tube, removed a diminutive wad of leather from one end, and tipped the contents into her hand. A small tapering shaft of ivory slid out, with a point at one end—similar to an awl, but with a tiny hole at the other end. She handed it carefully to Marthona.
“Do you see the hole?” Ayla asked.
Marthona held it away from her. “I can’t really see it well,” she said, then brought it closer and felt the small object, first the sharp point, then along the shaft to the opposite end. “Ah! There it is! I can feel it. That’s a very small hole, not much bigger than the hole of a bead.”
“The Mamutoi do pierce beads, but no one at Lion Camp was a skilled bead-maker. Jondalar made the boring tool used to make the hole. I think that was the most difficult part of making this thread-puller. I didn’t bring anything to sew, but I’ll show you how it works,” Ayla said, taking it back. She selected the bone phalange that held sinew, unwound a length, wet the end in her mouth, deftly poked it through the hole, and pulled it through. Then she handed it to Marthona.
The woman looked at the threaded needle, but saw more with her hands than with her aging eyes, which could still see objects that were far away quite well, but not nearly so well as those that were near. Her frown of concentration as she examined it suddenly brightened to a smile of understanding. “Of course!” she said. “With this I believe I could sew again!”
“On some things, you need to make a hole with an awl first. As sharp as you can make it, the ivory point won’t pierce thick or tough leather very easily,” Ayla explained, “but it’s still better than trying to get the thread through a hole without it. I could make holes, but I just couldn’t learn how to pick up the thread through the hole with the point of an awl, no matter how patient Nezzie and Deegie were.”
Marthona smiled in agreement, then looked puzzled. “Most young girls have that trouble when they are learning; didn’t you learn to sew when you were young?”
“The Clan doesn’t sew, not in the same way. They wear wraps that are tied on. A few things are knotted together, like birch bark containers, but they have rather large holes to pull through the cords that are tied together, not like the fine little holes that Nezzie wanted me to make,” Ayla said.
“I keep forgetting your childhood was … unusual,” Marthona said. “If you didn’t learn to sew as a girl, I can see how it would be difficult, but this is a remarkably clever device.” She looked up. “I think Proleva is coming this way. I would like to show her, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Ayla said. Glancing at the sunny terrace in front of the overhang, she saw Joharran’s mate and Salova, Rushemar’s mate, coming toward them, and noticed that many more people were up and moving about.
The women greeted each other, then Marthona said, “Look at this, Proleva. You, too, Salova. Ayla calls it a ‘thread-puller.’ She was just showing it to me. It’s very clever, and I think it will help me to sew again, even if I can’t see close very clearly anymore. I’ll be able to do it by feel.”
The two women, who had both constructed many garments in their lives, quickly grasped the concept of the new implement and were soon discussing its potential with excitement.
“Learning to use this will be easy, I think,” Salova said. “But making this thread-puller must have been difficult.”
“Jondalar helped with this one. He made the fine boring tool to drill the small hole,” Ayla explained.
“It would take someone with his skill. Before he left, I remember that he made flint awls and some boring tools for piercing beads,” Proleva said. “I think Salova’s right. It might be hard to make a thread-puller like this, but I’m sure it would be worth the effort. I’d like to try one.”
“I’d be happy to let you try this one, Proleva, and I have two others, of different sizes,” Ayla said. “The size I choose depends on what I want to sew.”
“Thank you, but I don’t think I’ll have time today with all the planning for the hunt. Joharran thinks this Summer Meeting is going to be especially well attended,” Proleva said, then smiled at Ayla, “because of you. The news that Jondalar has returned and brought a woman back with him is already running up and down The River, and beyond. He wants to make sure that we bring enough to feed the extra people when we sponsor a feast.”
“And everyone will be excited to meet you, to see if the stories about you are true,” Salova said, smiling. She had felt the same way.
“By the time we get there, they won’t be true,” Proleva said. “Stories always grow.”
“But most people know that, and don’t believe half of the stories to begin with. I think Jondalar and Ayla will manage to surprise a few people this year,” Marthona said.
Proleva noticed a rare expression on the face of the former leader of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, a sly and rather self-satisfied smile. She wondered what Marthona knew that no one else did.
“Are you coming with us to Two Rivers Rock today, Marthona?” Proleva asked.
“Yes. I think I will. I would like to see a demonstration of this ‘spear-thrower’ Jondalar has been talking about. If it’s as clever as this thread-pulling device,” Marthona said, and recalling her fire-making experience of the night before, “and other ideas they’ve brought back with them, it should be interesting.”
Joharran led the way around a steep section of rock that was close to The River, which made everyone walk single file. Marthona followed behind him, and as she looked at the back of her eldest son, she was feeling rather pleased to know that she not only had a son walking in front of her, but for the first time in many years, her son Jondalar was behind her. Ayla followed Jondalar, with Wolf on her heels. Other people from the Ninth Cave trailed them, but left a gap of several paces behind the wolf. More people joined them as they passed by the Fourteenth Cave.
They came to a place along The River between the shelters of the Fourteenth Cave on their side and Eleventh Cave on the other side where the waterway broadened out and foamed around rocks jutting out of the water. The River was easily fordable there, shallow enough to wade across, and the location that most people used to get to the other side. Ayla heard people refer to it as the Crossing.
Some of those who wore foot coverings sat down to take them off. Others were barefoot like Ayla, or apparently didn’t care if their footwear got wet. The people from the Fourteenth Cave held back and allowed Joharran and the Ninth Cave to start across first. It was a courtesy to him, since Joharran was the one who had suggested a last hunt before they left for the Summer Meeting and was nominally the leader.
As Jondalar stepped into the cold water, he was reminded of something he had wanted to tell his brother. “Joharran, wait a moment,” he called. The man stopped. Marthona was beside him. “When we went with the Lion Camp to the Summer Meeting of the Mamutoi, we had to cross a rather deep river just before we reached the place where the Meeting was held. The people of Wolf Camp, who were hosting the Meeting, had put piles of rock and gravel in the water to make stepping-stones so people could cross the river without getting wet. I know we sometimes do, too, but their river was so deep, you could fish between the stones. I thought it was a clever idea and wanted to remember to tell someone when I got back.”
“This river runs fast. Wouldn’t it wash the stones away?” Joharran asked.
“Their river was fast, too, and deep enough for salmon and sturgeon, other fish, too. The water flowed through the spaces between. They said the rocks washed out when it flooded, but they built new stepping-stones every year. It was good fishing off the rock piles near the middle of the river,” Jondalar explained. Other people had stopped and were listening, too.
“Perhaps it’s worth considering,” Marthona said.
“What about the rafts? Wouldn’t stepping-stones get in the way?” a man asked.
“It’s not deep enough here for the rafts most of the time. People usually have to carry them and whatever is on them around the Crossing anyway,” Joharran said.
As Ayla waited while the discussion continued, she observed that the water was clear enough to see rocks on the bottom and an occasional fish. Then she realized that the middle of the stream offered a unique view of the area. Looking ahead, south, on the left bank of The River, she saw a cliff with shelters that was probably the place they were going, and just beyond it, a tributary joining the mainstream. Across the smaller river was the start of a line of steep cliffs that paralleled the main river. She turned and looked the other way. Upriver, toward the north she could see more high cliffs and the huge rock shelter of the Ninth Cave situated on the right bank at the outside of a sharp bend.
Joharran started out again, leading the long line of people that were headed toward the home of the Third Cave of the Zelandonii. Ayla noticed some people waiting ahead, waving at them. She recognized Kareja and the Zelandoni of the Eleventh among them. The line lengthened as they fell in behind. As they drew near the high cliff ahead, Ayla got a better look at the huge rock wall, one of many spectacular limestone cliffs in the valley of The River.
It had been carved, by the same natural forces that had created all the rock shelters in the region, into two and in places three levels of terraces stacked one above the other. Halfway up the massive rock ahead was a shelf more than three hundred feet long in front of a sheltered opening. It was the main level for the ordinary living activities of the Third Cave, and most of the dwellings were located there. The terrace offered the protection of a rocky ceiling to the abri below, while it in turn was sheltered by an overhanging cliff above.
Jondalar noticed Ayla observing the great limestone cliff and stopped for a moment to let her catch up with him. The path wasn’t as narrow and they could walk abreast. “The place where Grass River joins The River is called Two Rivers,” he said. “That cliff is Two Rivers Rock because it overlooks the confluence.”
“I thought it was the Third Cave,” Ayla said.
“It is known as the home of the Third Cave of the Zelandonii, but its name is Two Rivers Rock, just like the home of the Fourteenth Cave of the Zelandonii is called Little Valley, and the home of the Eleventh Cave is River Place,” Jondalar explained.
“Then what is the home of the Ninth Cave called?” Ayla said.
“The Ninth Cave,” Jondalar said, and noticed her frown.
“Why doesn’t it have another name like the others?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” Jondalar said. “It’s just always been the Ninth Cave. I suppose it could have been called something like ‘Two Rivers Rock,’ since Wood River joins The River nearby, but the Third Cave already had that name. Or it might have been ‘Big Rock,’ but another place is called that.”
“There are other names it could have been called. Something about the Falling Stone, maybe. No other place has such an unusual object, does it?” Ayla asked, trying to understand. It was easier to remember things if they were consistent, but there always seemed to be exceptions.
“No, not that I’ve ever seen,” Jondalar said.
“But the Ninth Cave is just the Ninth Cave and doesn’t have any other name except that,” Ayla said. “I wonder why.”
“Maybe it’s because our shelter is unique for so many reasons. No one has seen or even heard of a single rock shelter as big, or one that has so many people. It does overlook two rivers, like some others, but Wood River Valley has more trees than most other valleys. The Eleventh Cave always asks to cut trees for their rafts from there. And then, as you said, there is the Falling Stone,” Jondalar said. “Everyone knows of the Ninth Cave, even people from far away, but no single name really describes it all. I guess it just came to be known for the people who live there, the Ninth Cave.”
Ayla nodded, but she was still frowning. “Well, naming it for the people does make it unique, I suppose.”
As they neared the home of the Third Cave, Ayla could see a clutter of tents, lean-tos, frames, and racks in the space between the base of the cliff and The River. A random scatter of hearths—the dark circular lenses of former fires and a few with burning flames—were interspersed among the structures. It was the main working area of the Third Cave’s outside activities and included a small dock along the bank of The River to secure rafts.
The territory of the Third Cave encompassed not only the cliff, but the area below the stone terraces all the way to the edge of the water of both rivers and in some places beyond. It wasn’t owned by them. People, particularly from the other nearby Caves, could walk into another Cave’s territory and use its resources, but it was considered polite to be invited or to ask first. Such tacit strictures were understood by adults. Children, of course, could go anywhere they wanted.
The region along The River between Wood River just beyond the Ninth Cave on the north and Grass River at Two Rivers Rock on the south was considered a cohesive community by the Zelandonii who lived there. In effect, it was an extended village, though they didn’t, quite, have a concept for that kind of settlement or give a name to it. But when Jondalar was traveling and referred to the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii as his home, it was not only the many people of that particular stone shelter that he thought of, but the entire neighboring community.
The visitors began ascending the trail toward the main level of Two Rivers Rock but stopped when they reached the lower level to wait for a person who wanted to join the meeting. While they were standing there, Ayla looked up and found herself reaching for the nearby wall to steady herself. The top of the cliff overhung so far that as the eye followed the massive stone walls up, it gave her the feeling that the cliff itself was bending over backward along with the viewer.
“That’s Kimeran,” Jondalar said, grinning, as the man greeted Joharran. Ayla looked at the stranger, who was blond and taller than Joharran. She was struck by the subtle body language of the two men, who seemed to regard each other as equals.
The newcomer eyed the wolf with apprehension, but made no comment as they continued up to the next level. When they finally reached the main level, Ayla had to stop again, halted this time by the spectacular view. Her breath caught in her throat. The stone front porch of the Third Cave’s rock shelter commanded an expansive vista of the surrounding countryside. Somewhat upstream along Grass River, she could even see another small watercourse that joined the secondary.
“Ayla.” She turned around when she heard her name. Joharran was behind her, with the man who had just joined them. “I want to introduce you to someone.”
The man took a step forward and held out both hands, but his eyes glanced warily at the wolf beside her, who was looking at him with attentive curiosity. He seemed to be as tall as Jondalar and, with his blond hair, bore a superficial resemblance to him. She put her hand down to signal the animal to stay back as she moved forward to greet him.
“Kimeran, this is Ayla of the Mamutoi …,” Joharran began. Kimeran took both of her hands in his as the leader of the Ninth Cave continued with her names and ties. Joharran had noticed the man’s anxious look and understood exactly how he felt. “Ayla, this is Kimeran, Leader of Elder Hearth, the Second Cave of the Zelandonii, Brother of Zelandoni of the Second Cave, Descendant of the Founder of the Seventh Cave of the Zelandonii.”
“In the name of Doni, the Great Earth Mother, you are welcome to the land of the Zelandonii, Ayla of the Mamutoi,” Kimeran said.
“In the name of Mut, Mother of All, also known as Doni and by many other names, I greet you Kimeran, Leader of Elder Hearth, the Second Cave of the Zelandonii,” Ayla said, then smiled and repeated his complete introduction. Kimeran noticed her foreign accent and then her lovely smile. She was truly beautiful, he thought, but could he expect any less from Jondalar?
“Kimeran!” Jondalar said when they finished the formal words. “It’s good to see you!”
“And you, Jondalar.” The men grabbed each other’s hands, then gave each other a rough but affectionate hug.
“So you are leader of the Second now,” Jondalar said.
“Yes. For a couple of years. I wondered if you’d make it back. I heard you had returned, but I had to come and see for myself if all the stories about you are true. I think they must be,” Kimeran said, smiling at Ayla, but still keeping a cautious distance from the wolf.
“Ayla, Kimeran and I have been friends for a long time. We went through our manhood ceremony together, got our belts … became men at the same time.” Jondalar smiled and shook his head at the memory. “We were all about the same age, but I felt that I stood out because I was taller than everyone. I was so glad when I saw Kimeran coming because he was as tall as me. I wanted to stand near him so I wouldn’t be so noticeable. I think he felt the same way.” He turned back to the man, who was also smiling, but his expression changed at Jondalar’s next words. “Kimeran, I think you should come and meet Wolf.”
“Meet him?”
“Yes, Wolf won’t hurt you, Ayla will introduce you. Then he’ll know you as a friend.”
Kimeran felt disconcerted as Jondalar walked him toward the four-legged hunter. It was the biggest wolf he’d ever seen, but the woman obviously wasn’t afraid. She went down on one knee and put an arm around him, then looked up and smiled. The wolf’s mouth was open, his teeth were bared, and his tongue was hanging out the side. Was that wolf sneering at him?
“Put your hand out so Wolf can smell it,” Jondalar urged.
“What’s that word you called him?” Kimeran said, frowning and avoiding the gesture. He wasn’t at all sure he wanted to offer his hand to the animal, but people were standing around watching, and he didn’t want to seem afraid, either.
“It’s the name Ayla gave him, it’s the Mamutoi word for ‘wolf.’ ”
When Ayla took his right hand, Kimeran knew he was committed. He took a deep breath and allowed her to bring that important appendage close to the mouth that was full of sharp teeth.
Kimeran was surprised, as most people were, when Ayla went through the process of showing him how to touch the wolf, and he was startled when Wolf licked his hand. But when he felt Wolf’s living warmth, the man wondered why the animal stood still for the touching, and once the initial wonder was over, he found himself paying more attention to the woman.
What kind of power does she have? he wondered. Is she Zelandoni? He was particularly aware of the zelandonia and their unique abilities. She speaks in perfectly clear and understandable Zelandonii, but she has a manner of speaking that is strange. It is not exactly an accent, he thought. She almost seems to swallow some of the sounds. It isn’t unpleasant, but it does make you take notice of her … not that you wouldn’t anyway. She has a foreign look, you know she’s a stranger, but a beautiful, exotic stranger, and the wolf is a part of it. How does she control a wolf? He took on a look of wonder, almost awe.
Ayla had been watching Kimeran’s expressions and saw the look of wonder. She glanced away when she felt herself starting to smile, then she looked up at him. “I’ve taken care of Wolf since he was a little pup,” she said. “He was raised with the children of the Lion Camp. He’s used to people.”
Kimeran felt a flush of surprise. It was almost as though she knew what he was thinking and gave him an answer to his questions before he even asked.
“Did you come alone?” Jondalar asked when Kimeran could finally stop looking at the wolf, and Ayla, and turned his attention back to him.
“More are coming. We got word that Joharran wanted to organize a last hunt before leaving for the Summer Meeting. Manvelar sent a runner to the Seventh, and they sent one to us, but I didn’t want to wait for everyone and came ahead,” he said.
“Kimeran’s Cave is that way, Ayla,” Jondalar said, pointing down the valley of Grass River. “Can you see that small tributary?” Ayla nodded. “That’s the Little Grass River. Continue along Grass River beyond the tributary to reach the Second and the Seventh Caves. They’re related, and live across a rich meadow from each other.”
The two men began talking, reminiscing and catching up, but Ayla was distracted again by the panoramic scene. The Third Cave’s spacious upper terrace gave the inhabitants many advantages. It was well protected by its large overhang from unpleasant weather, yet it offered an extraordinary view.
Unlike the wooded valley near the Ninth Cave, the valleys of both the Grass and the Little Grass Rivers were rich, luxuriant grasslands, but different from the broad meadows of the floodplain of The River. A variety of trees and brush lined the banks of the primary river, but beyond the narrow gallery forest it was an open field of essentially shortgrass that was favored by ruminant grazers. Directly across The River toward the west, the broad floodplain led to a series of hills that climbed up to a grass-covered highland.
The valleys of both the Grass and the Little Grass Rivers were wetter, almost swampy at certain times of year, which supported the tallgrass varieties of grass that grew higher than a man in places, and were often mixed with herbaceous forbs. The wide variety of plants invited many different types of grazing and browsing animals that preferred specific kinds or parts of the various grasses and leafy herbs as they migrated seasonally across the landscape.
Since the main terrace of Two Rivers Rock overlooked the valleys of both The River and Grass River, it made an ideal location from which to monitor the itinerant herds. As a consequence, over time the people of the Third Cave gained not only great skill in tracking the movements of herds, but knowledge of the seasonal changes and weather patterns that signaled the appearance of the various animals. With that edge their proficiency as hunters grew. Though every Cave hunted, the spears of the hunters of the Third Cave living at Two Rivers Rock brought down more of the grazers and browsers that migrated through the grassy floodplains of the river valleys than any of the others.
The primacy of the Third Cave’s hunting knowledge and skill was known by most of the Zelandonii, but especially acknowledged by their nearest neighbors. They were the ones to whom the others turned for insight and information whenever anyone planned to go hunting, particularly when a major, community-wide, group hunt was considered.
Ayla looked toward the left, south. The grassy valleys of the two rivers, which joined just below, opened out between high cliffs. Enlarged by Grass River, The River flowed southwest close against the base of the tall cliffs, around the rocks of a deep bend, and out of sight, heading for a larger river farther south and eventually to the Great Waters some distance to the west.
Then Ayla looked right, to the north, back the way they had come. The upstream valley of The River was a broad green meadow with the sparkling shimmer of sunlight reflecting off the meandering waterway glinting through the junipers, silver birches, willows, and pines, even an occasional evergreen oak, that marked its course. Upstream on the opposite bank, where The River made a sweeping turn toward the rising sun, the high cliffs and the immense overhanging shelter of the Ninth Cave could be seen.
Manvelar strode toward them, smiling in welcome. Though the gray-haired man was not young, Ayla noticed that he walked with vitality and confidence. She found it difficult to judge his age. After greetings and a few formal introductions, Manvelar led the group to an unoccupied section on the main level somewhat north of the living area.
“We’re preparing a midday meal for everyone,” Manvelar announced, “but if anyone is thirsty, there’s water and some cups here.” He indicated a couple of large wet waterbags propped up against a stone, with a few woven cups stacked nearby.
Most people accepted the offer, though many had brought their personal drinking cups. It was not uncommon to take one’s own cup, bowl, and eating knife in a pouch or carryall of some kind even when going on short trips or visiting friends. Ayla brought not only her own cup, but a bowl for Wolf. People stared with fascination as the magnificent animal eagerly lapped up the water she gave him, and several smiled. It was somehow comforting to realize that the wolf, who seemed bound to the woman with an inexplicably mysterious tie, could be so ordinary as to need a drink of water.
They settled down with an air of pleasant anticipation, some people sitting on stones, some standing, waiting for things to get started. Manvelar delayed until everyone was quiet and ready, then he acknowledged a young woman who had been standing close to him.
“We’ve had watchers, both here and at Second View, for the past two days,” he said.
“That’s Second View, Ayla,” Jondalar said quietly. She looked where he indicated. Across the confluence of Two Rivers and its wide floodplain was another small rock shelter jutting out sharply from an acute corner at the beginning of the line of cliffs that paralleled The River as it continued downstream. “Although it’s separated by Grass River, the Third Cave considers Second View to be a part of Two Rivers Rock.”
Ayla looked again toward the place called Second View, then took a few steps to look over the edge down at the water. From her perspective, she could see that at its mouth, Grass River broadened out into a small fan-shaped delta as it approached the larger waterway. On the right bank of the smaller river, at the base of Two Rivers Rock, a path heading east, upstream, forked off toward the flowing water. She noticed that the offshoot trail led to the bank of Grass River at one edge of the delta where it was wide and shallow, but back from the turbulance of the confluence of Two Rivers. It was where the Third Cave crossed Grass River.
On the other side, a path continued across the valley formed by the floodplain of both rivers for about a quarter of a mile to the jutting corner abri. Small and high, it didn’t offer much shelter beneath it, but a rocky path led to the top, a stone platform from which there was an alternative view of the valleys of both rivers from the opposite side of Grass River.
“… Thefona arrived with information just before you came,” Manvelar was saying. “I think there are a couple of possibilities for a good hunt, Joharran. We’ve been keeping track of a mixed herd of about eight giant deer with young moving this way, and Thefona has just spotted a good-sized herd of bison.”
“Either one would do, whichever we could be most assured of getting. What would you suggest?” Joharran asked.
“If it was just the Third Cave, we’d probably wait for the giant deer at The River and pick off a couple at the Crossing, but if you’re looking for a substantial kill, I’d go for the bison and drive them into a surround,” Manvelar said.
“We could do both,” Jondalar said.
Several people smiled. “He wants them all? Was Jondalar always so eager?” someone remarked, Ayla wasn’t sure who.
“Eager, yes, though not usually for hunting animals,” a woman’s voice retorted. A chorus of chuckles and laughter followed.
Ayla caught sight of the speaker. It was Kareja, the leader of the Eleventh Cave. Ayla recalled meeting her and being impressed, but she didn’t like the tone of her comments. It seemed as if she was making fun of Jondalar, and Ayla had too recently been the object of similar-sounding laughter. She looked to see how he was reacting. A flush of color tinted his face, but he made a wry grin. He’s embarrassed, Ayla thought, and trying not to show it.
“I guess that did sound a little eager, and I know it seems as if we can’t do it all, but I think we can. When we were living with the Mamutoi, Ayla, on her horse, helped the Lion Camp drive bison into a surround,” Jondalar tried to explain. “A horse can run faster than any person, and we can direct the horses where we want them to go. We can help drive those bison, and head them off when they try to break away. And you’ll see how easy it would be to bring down a giant deer with this spear-thrower. Probably more than a couple. I think you will all be surprised at what this can do.” He held up the hunting weapon as he spoke. It was a rather flat, narrow wooden shaft that seemed far too simple to do all that the returned traveler claimed for it.
“You’re saying you think we can do it all?” Joharran asked.
The gathering was interrupted by people of the Third Cave bringing food. After a leisurely midday meal, further discussion revealed that the location of the bison herd was not far from a previously built surround that could be repaired and made serviceable. They planned to spend a day repairing the corral trap, and if they could get it ready, and if the bison didn’t wander away, they would hunt the bison the morning after, but they would also watch the giant deer. Ayla listened carefully when the talk turned to the strategic planning of the hunt, but she did not volunteer herself and Whinney to help. She would see how things worked out.
“Well, let’s see this wonderful new weapon, Jondalar,” Joharran finally said.
“Yes,” Manvelar said. “You’ve made me very curious. We can use the practice field in Grass Valley.”