“She’s coming now,” Proleva said. She had stepped out of her dwelling to look for Ayla and was glad to see her. She was afraid the women she had invited were getting bored and would soon be making excuses to leave, curious as they were. She had told them only that Ayla wanted to talk to them. The fact that the mate of the leader had asked them into her home was an added incentive. Proleva held the drape open and beckoned Ayla and the children in; Ayla signaled Wolf to go home, then urged Lanoga with the baby to go first.
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 tall, 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.
If the space had seemed crowded before, it felt absolutely crammed with the addition of the big woman, but no one seemed to mind. To be at a meeting with both the mate of the leader and the First Among Those Who Served The Mother made the women feel important. Ayla got a sense of their feeling, but she hadn’t lived among them long enough to understand the full sense of the occasion for the women. She thought of Proleva and Zelandoni as a relative and a friend of Jondalar. The donier looked at Ayla, encouraging her to continue.
“Proleva told me that among the Zelandonii, all food is shared. I asked her if Zelandonii women would be willing to share their milk. She told me they often do with relatives and close friends, but Tremeda has no kin that anyone knows of, and definitely not a sister or cousin who is nursing,” Ayla said, not even mentioning close friends. She beckoned to Lanoga, who got up and came slowly toward her, carrying the baby.
“Though a ten-year may be able to care for a baby, she can’t nurse her. I have started to show Lanoga how to make other foods that a baby can eat besides mashed roots. She is quite capable, she just needs someone to teach her, but that’s not enough.” Ayla stopped and looked at each one of the women.
“Are you the one who cleaned them up, too?” Stelona, the older woman, asked.
“Yes. We went to The River and bathed, just as you do,” Ayla said, then she added, “I have come to know that Tremeda is not always looked upon with favor, and perhaps with reason, but this baby is not Tremeda. She is just an infant who needs milk, at least some milk.”
“I will tell you frankly,” Stelona said. She had become, in effect, a spokeswoman for the group. “I wouldn’t mind feeding her once in a while, but I do not want to go into that dwelling, and I’m not terribly interested in visiting with Tremeda.”
Proleva turned aside to hide a smile. Ayla did it, she thought. She’s got one commitment, the rest will come through, or at least most of them.
“You won’t have to go to extra effort. I have already talked to Lanoga. She will carry her sister to you, we can work out a routine. With many to help, it won’t be much drain on any one woman,” Ayla said.
“Well, bring her here,” the woman said. “Let’s see if she still knows how to nurse. How long has it been?”
“Since sometime in spring,” Ayla said. “Lanoga, take the baby to Stelona.”
Lanoga avoided looking directly at the other women as she headed toward the older woman, who had given the baby sleeping in her lap to the pregnant woman beside her. With experienced ease, Stelona presented her breast to the baby. She nuzzled around for a while, seemingly eager, but no longer familiar with the position, but when Lorala opened her mouth, the woman put her nipple in. She mouthed it for a while, then finally began to suckle.
“Well, she took hold,” Stelona said. There was a general sigh of relief and smiles all around.
“Thank you, Stelona,” Ayla said.
“I suppose it’s the least one can do. She does, after all, belong to the Ninth Cave,” Stelona said.
“She didn’t exactly shame them into it,” Proleva said, “but she made them feel that if they didn’t help, they would be worse than flatheads. Now, they can all feel virtuous about doing what is right.”
Joharran got up on an elbow and looked at his mate. “Would you feed Tremeda’s baby?” he asked.
Proleva rolled onto her side and pulled a cover up over her shoulder. “Of course I would,” she said, “if someone asked, but I admit, I might not have thought of working out a routine for everyone to share the task, and I’m ashamed that I didn’t know that Tremeda had gone dry. Ayla said Lanoga was capable, she just needs someone to teach her. Ayla’s right, the girl is capable. She kept that baby going, and she is more mother to the rest of those children than their mother, but a girl who can count only ten years should not have to be mother to that brood. She hasn’t even had her First Rites yet. The best thing would be if someone would adopt that baby. And maybe some of the other young ones, too,” Proleva said.
“Maybe you can find someone who’ll take them at the Summer Meeting,” Joharran said.
“I thought I would try, but I don’t think Tremeda is through having babies. The Mother tends to give more to those women who have had children, but She usually waits until a woman is through nursing one before giving her another. Now that she’s not nursing, Zelandoni says Tremeda will probably be pregnant again within a year.”
“Speaking of pregnant, how are you feeling?” Joharran asked, smiling at her with love and a look of delight.
“Good,” she said. “I seem to be past the sickness, and I won’t be too big during the heat of summer. I think I will start telling people. Ayla already guessed.”
“I can’t see any sign yet, except you’re more beautiful,” he said, “if that’s possible.”
Proleva smiled warmly at her mate. “Ayla apologized for mentioning it before I was ready to announce it—it was just a slip. She said she knew the signs because she’s a medicine woman, which is what she sometimes calls a healer. She does seem to be a healer, but it’s hard to believe she could have learned so much from …”
“I know,” Joharran said. “Could the ones who raised her really be the same as the ones around here? If they are, it worries me. They have not been treated well, I wonder why they haven’t retaliated? And what would happen if they should decide to strike back someday?”
“I don’t think it’s something we have to worry about now,” Proleva said, “and I’m sure we’ll learn more about them as we get to know Ayla better.” She paused, turning her head toward Jaradal’s sleeping place, and listened. She had heard a sound, but he was quiet now. Probably a dream, she thought, and turned back to her mate. “You know, they want to make her a Zelandonii woman before we leave, so it will be done before she and Jondalar are mated.”
“Yes, I know. Don’t you think it’s a little too soon? It seems as though we’ve known her much longer than we have, but it wasn’t that long ago that they arrived,” Joharran said. “I don’t usually mind doing what my mother proposes. She doesn’t make suggestions often, for all that she’s still a powerful woman, and when she does, it’s generally something I hadn’t thought of, but makes sense. When the leadership was turned over to me, I wondered if she could really give it up, but she wanted me to take it as much as the rest, and she has always been very careful not to interfere. But I can’t see a good reason to acknowledge Ayla so quickly. She’ll be considered one of us when she mates Jondalar anyway.”
“But not in her own right, only as the mate of Jondalar,” Proleva said. “Your mother is concerned about standing, Joharran. Remember Shevonar’s burial? As an outsider, Ayla should have walked at the back, but Jondalar insisted he would walk with her, wherever she walked. Your mother did not want her son walking behind Laramar. It would give the impression that the woman he was mating had little status. Then Zelandoni said she belonged with the healers, that’s why she was up front, but Laramar didn’t like it and he embarrassed Marthona.”
“I didn’t know that,” Joharran said.
“The problem is we don’t know how to judge Ayla’s rank,” Proleva said. “Apparently she was adopted by high-ranking Mamutoi, but how much do we know about them? It’s not like they’re Lanzadonii, or even Losadunai. I never even heard of them before, though some people claim they have. And she was raised by flatheads! What kind of position does that give her? If a high rank isn’t recognized for her, it could bring down Jondalar’s status and that would affect all our ‘names and ties,’ Marthona’s, yours, mine, all his kin.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Joharran said.
“Zelandoni is pushing to get her recognized, too. She is treating Ayla as though she is zelandonia, and an equal. I’m not sure what her reasons are, but she also seems determined to have her seen as a woman of high standing.” Proleva turned her head again in the direction of her son at a sound he was making. It was an automatic reaction that she hardly noticed. He must be having lively dreams, she thought.
Joharran was considering her comments, feeling rather pleased that his woman was both accomplished and astute. She was a real help to him, and he valued her talents. Just now it was her talent to clarify his mother’s motivations that he appreciated. He was a good listener and communicator in his own way, that was one reason why he was a skillful leader, but he didn’t have her innate sense of the repercussions and innuendos of a situation.
“Will it be enough to have just us declaring acceptance?” Marthona asked, leaning forward.
“Joharran is leader, you are former leader and adviser, Willamar is Trade Master …”
“And you are First,” Marthona said, “but in spite of rank, we’re all kin, except you, Zelandoni, and everybody knows that you are a friend.”
“Who would object?”
“Laramar would.” Marthona was still vexed and somewhat embarrassed that Laramar had caught her in a breach of etiquette, and her face showed her irritation. “He’d make an issue of it, just to make trouble. He did it at the burial,” she said.
“I wasn’t aware of that. What did he do?” the large woman said. The two women were in her dwelling, drinking tea and chatting quietly. The donier was glad her latest patient had finally gone home, giving her back her privacy, where she could meditate in solitude and speak privately.
“He let me know that Ayla should have been at the end of the procession.”
“But she is a healer and belonged with the zelandonia,” the donier said.
“She may be a healer, but she is not zelandonia, whether she belongs there or not, and he knows it.”
“But what can he do?”
“He can bring it up, he is a member of the Ninth Cave. There may be others who feel as he does but would hesitate to mention it. If he does, those others may go along with him. I think we should get more people to agree to accept her,” Marthona said with a note of finality.
“You may be right. Whom do you suggest?” Zelandoni said. She took a sip of tea and frowned in thought.
“Stelona and her family might be a good possibility,” the former leader said. “According to Proleva, she was the first to agree to feeding Tremeda’s baby. She’s respected, well liked, and not related.”
“Who will ask her?”
“Joharran can, or perhaps I should. Woman to woman. What do you think?” Marthona said.
Zelandoni put her cup down and her frown deepened. “I think you should talk to her first, feel her out,” she said. “Then, if she seems agreeable, Joharran should ask her, but as a member of the family, not as leader. That way, it won’t be as though he is making an official request, and bringing the pressure of his leadership to it. It will be more that he is asking a favor.…”
“Which he would be,” Marthona said.
“Of course. But just the fact that it’s the leader who is making the request brings the force of his position to it. We all know his rank. It doesn’t need to be mentioned. And she might consider it a compliment that he would ask her. How well do you know her?” the First said.
“I know her, of course. Stelona is from a reliable family, but we haven’t had occasion to associate on a personal level. Proleva knows her better. She’s the one who asked her to come when Ayla wanted to talk about Tremeda’s baby. I do know she has been very cooperative whenever there are gatherings to organize, or food to be prepared, and I always see her helping out when there’s work to be done,” the older woman said.
“Then you should include Proleva, and take her with you when you go to see Stelona,” Zelandoni said. “Find out what she thinks would be the best way to approach her. If she likes to cooperate, and is willing to help, you might appeal to that side of her.”
The two women were silent for a time, sipping their tea and thinking. Then Marthona asked, “Do you want to keep the acceptance ceremony simple or make it more dramatic?”
Zelandoni looked at her and realized the woman had a reason for raising the question. “Why do you ask?” she said.
“Ayla showed me something that I think could make quite an impact, if it was handled properly,” Marthona said.
“What did she show you?”
“Have you ever seen her make fire?”
The large woman hesitated only a moment, then sat back and smiled. “Only the time she started one to get some water boiling for a calming drink for Willamar, when he came home and found out about Thonolan. She did say she was going to show me how she did it so fast, but I admit, it slipped my mind, what with the burial, and planning for the Summer Meeting, and everything else that’s been going on.”
“The fire was out when we got home one night, and she and Jondalar showed us. Willamar, Folara, and I have been making it her way ever since. It requires something she calls a firestone, and apparently they have found some nearby. I don’t know how many, but enough to share with some of the others,” Marthona said. “Why don’t you come over this evening? I know they planned to show you, they could do it then. In fact, why don’t you share a meal with us? I still have a little of that last batch of wine left.”
“I’d enjoy that. Yes, I will come.”
“As usual, Marthona, that was very good,” Zelandoni said, putting an empty cup down beside a nearly clean bowl. They were sitting on cushions and stuffed pads around the low table. Jondalar had been glancing and smiling at everyone all through the meal, as though he were anticipating something especially delicious. The donier admitted to herself that it did make her curious, though she had no intention of showing it.
She had lingered over her meal, regaling them with stories and anecdotes, encouraging Jondalar and Ayla to talk about their Journey, and inducing Willamar to tell of his travel adventures. It had been a thoroughly enjoyable evening for everyone, except that Folara looked as if she would burst with anticipation, and Jondalar was so smug and pleased with himself, it made the woman want to smile.
Willamar and Marthona were more accustomed to waiting until the time was right; it was a tactic often used in trade negotiations and dealings with other Caves. Ayla also seemed content to wait, but it was hard for the One Who Was First to fathom her real feelings. She didn’t know the foreign woman well enough yet, she was an enigma, but that made her intriguing.
“If you are finished, we’d like you to move closer to the hearth,” Jondalar said with an eager smile.
The large woman hoisted herself up from the stack of pads upon which she was sitting and walked toward the cooking hearth. Jondalar rushed to pick up the pads and put them down near the fireplace, but Zelandoni remained standing.
“You might want to sit, Zelandoni,” Jondalar said. “We’re going to be putting all the fires out, and it will be as dark as a cave in here.”
“If you prefer,” she said, seating herself on the stack of pads.
Marthona and Willamar took their cushions with them and also sat while the younger people collected all the oil lamps and placed them around the hearth, including, Zelandoni was a little surprised to notice, the one from in front of the donii in the niche. Just bringing them all together made the rest of the dwelling much darker.
“Is everyone ready?” Jondalar said, and when the three who were waiting nodded, the others began to snuff out the small flames. No one spoke as each one went out. The shadows deepened until the encroaching darkness overtook every glimmer of light and permeated the entire space, creating an eerie sense of close, impenetrable thickness in the intangible air. It was as dark as a cave, but in the dwelling, which moments before had been filled with a warm golden glow, the effect was eerie, unnerving, and, curiously, more frightening than in the cold deeps. Darkness was expected there. It wasn’t that fires did not go out inside a dwelling, but that all the illumination was not purposely put out. It felt as if they were tempting chance. The mystic impact was not lost on the First.
But as time passed and eyes adjusted to the darkness, Zelandoni noticed that the deep black was slightly less. She still could not see the shape of her own hand in front of her eyes, but above the roofless dwelling, on the underside of the overhanging shelf, the light from other fires was faintly reflected into neighboring spaces. It wasn’t much, but it was not quite as dark as a cave. She would have to remember that, she thought.
Her thoughts were distracted by a light nearby that was startling to eyes grown accustomed to the profound dark. It held for a long moment, highlighting Ayla’s face, then went out, but a moment later a small flame had started and was soon blazing.
“How did you do that?” she said.
“Do what?” Jondalar said, grinning widely.
“Start that fire so fast.” Zelandoni could see that everyone was smiling now.
“It’s the firestone!” Jondalar said, and held one out to show her. “When you strike it with flint, it makes a long-lasting, very hot spark, and with good dry tinder, if you aim it just right, it will catch and make a flame. Here, let me show you how it works.”
He made up a tinder bundle with fireweed fuzz and some shaved pieces of wood held in dried grass. The First got up from her padded seat and sat down on the floor near the fireplace. She preferred to sit on raised seats or chairs because it was easier to get up, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t get down if she wanted to or felt it was important enough. And this fire-making trick was. Jondalar demonstrated, then gave the stones to her. She tried it a few times with no success, frowning deeper with each attempt.
“You’ll get the technique,” Marthona encouraged. “Ayla, why don’t you show her.”
Ayla took the flint and iron pyrite, set the fire bundle just so, and carefully showed the woman the position of her hands. Then she struck off a spark that landed on the tinder. It sent up a thin wisp of smoke, which she crushed out; then she gave the stones back to Zelandoni.
The woman held them in front of her and started to strike, but Ayla stopped her and changed the position of her hands. She tried again. This time she watched a hot spark land close to the tinder, and changed her own hand position slightly, and struck. This time the spark found the tinder. She knew what to do then. She picked up the bundle, held it close to her face, and blew. The tiny start turned bright red. The second breath of air turned the fireweed down into a small flame, and the third caught the shaved wood on fire. The donier put it down and started feeding it small pieces of wood and then larger ones. Then she sat back and smiled, pleased with her accomplishment.
Everyone else was smiling, too, and offering comments of approval all at once. “You caught on fast,” Folara said. “I knew you could do it,” Jondalar said. “I told you, it’s just a matter of technique,” Marthona said. “Well done!” Willamar said. “Now, try it again,” Ayla said. “Yes, that’s a good idea,” Marthona said.
The One Who Was First Among Those Who Served The Mother dutifully did as she was directed. She made fire the second time, but then had trouble the third time until Ayla showed her that she wasn’t drawing a good spark and how to strike the stones at a different angle. After the third successful try, she stopped, got up, and sat down again on her padded seat and looked at Ayla.
“I will work on this at home,” she said. “The first time I do it in public, I want to be as sure as you. But tell me, where did you learn to do this?”
Ayla told how she had absentmindedly picked up a stone that was on the rocky beach of the valley where she lived, rather than the hammerstone she had been using to make a new tool to replace one that had broken. Since her fire had gone out, the hot spark and bit of smoke gave her the idea to try to relight her fire that way. To her surprise, it worked.
“And is it true there are some of those firestones around here?” the donier asked.
“Yes,” Jondalar answered, full of excitement. “We collected all that we could find from her valley, and hoped to find more on our Journey. We never did, but Ayla stopped to get a drink at that small stream in Wood Valley and found some there. Not many, but where there are some, there must be more.”
“That seems logical. I hope you are right,” Zelandoni said.
“They would be exceptional for trading,” Willamar said.
Zelandoni frowned slightly. She had been thinking more of the dramatic aspects for ceremonies, but that would require that they remain inaccessible to everyone except the zelandonia, and it was already too late for that. “You are probably right, Trade Master, but perhaps not right away,” she said. “I would rather the knowledge of these stones be kept secret, for the time being.”
“Why?” Ayla said.
“They could be useful for certain ceremonies,” Zelandoni said.
Suddenly Ayla remembered the time Talut held a meeting to present the idea of the Mamutoi adopting her. To the surprise of both Talut and Tulie, the brother-sister headman and headwoman of the Lion Camp, since they had both sponsored her, one man had objected. It was only when they had made an impromptu, but dramatic, demonstration of fire-making with a firestone, and had promised to give him one, that Frebec relented.
“I suppose they could,” she said.
“But when can I show my friends?” Folara implored. “Mother made me promise not to tell anyone yet, but I’ve been yearning to show them.”
“Your mother was wise,” Zelandoni said. “I promise you’ll have a chance to show them, but not yet. This is too important and needs to be presented properly. It really would be better if you wait. Will you?”
“Of course, if you want me to, Zelandoni,” Folara said.
“It seems like there have been more feasts and ceremonies and gathers in the few days since they came than in all of last winter,” Solaban said.
“Proleva asked me to help, and you know I won’t refuse her,” Ramara said, “any more than you’d refuse Joharran. Jaradal always plays with Robenan anyway, I don’t mind watching him.”
“We’ll be leaving for the Summer Meeting in a day or so, why can’t it wait until we get there?” her mate complained. He had an array of objects spread out on the floor of their dwelling and was trying to decide what to take with him. He did not relish the job. It was the part of going to the Summer Meeting that he always put off until the last moment, and now that he’d finally gotten into it, he wanted to finish without children playing around and disturbing things.
“I think it has to do with their mating,” Ramara said.
She thought about her own Matrimonial and glanced at her dark-haired mate. His hair was probably the darkest of anyone of the Ninth Cave, and when she met him, she liked the contrast he made with her own pale blond coloring. Solaban’s hair was almost black, though his eyes were blue, and his skin was so pale that he often sunburned, especially early in the summer season. She also thought he was the most handsome of all the men of the Cave, even compared to Jondalar. She understood the appeal of the tall blond man with the extraordinary blue eyes, and when she was younger, like most women, she had been infatuated with him. But she learned what love was when she met Solaban. Jondalar didn’t seem quite so attractive since his return, perhaps because he gave all his attention to Ayla. Besides, she rather liked the woman.
“Why can’t they get mated just like everyone else?” Solaban said, obviously feeling grouchy.
“Well, they aren’t just like everyone else. Jondalar just returned from a Journey that was so long, no one expected him to come back, and Ayla isn’t even Zelandonii. But she really wants to be. At least that’s what I heard,” Ramara said.
“When she mates him, she’ll be the same as Zelandonii anyway,” Solaban said. “Why do they need to bother with an acceptance ceremony for her?”
“It’s not the same. She wouldn’t be Zelandonii. She’d be ‘Ayla of the Mamutoi, mated to Jondalar of the Zelandonii.’ Whenever she was introduced, everyone would know she was a foreigner,” she said.
“She just has to open her mouth and everyone knows it anyway,” he said. “Making her Zelandonii isn’t going to change that.”
“Yes, it will. She might talk like a stranger, but when people meet her, they would know that she isn’t a foreigner anymore,” Ramara said.
Ramara looked at the tools, weapons, and clothing covering every flat surface. She knew her mate and understood the real reason for his irritability, and it had nothing to do with Ayla or Jondalar. She smiled to herself and said, “If it wasn’t raining out, I’d take the boys to Wood River Valley to watch the horses. All the children like to do that. They don’t usually get a chance to see animals up close.”
Solaban’s frown deepened. “That means they’ll have to stay here, I suppose.”
Ramara flashed a teasing grin. “No, I don’t think so. I thought I’d go to the other end of the shelter where everyone is cooking and getting things prepared, and help the women who are watching the children so their mothers can work. The boys can play with the others who are their age. When Proleva asked me to watch Jaradal, she meant she wanted me to be particularly aware of him. All the mothers do that. The watchers have to know who they are responsible for, especially when children get to be about Robenan’s age. They get more independent and sometimes try to go off on their own,” Ramara said, watching her mate’s frown ease. “But you should get done before the ceremony. I may have to bring the boys here afterward.”
Solaban looked around at the neatly organized assortment of his personal things, and the rows of antler, bone, and ivory trimmed to about the same size, then shook his head. He still didn’t know precisely what to take with him, but it was this way every year. “I will,” he said, “as soon as I get everything set out so I can see what I want to take to the Summer Meeting for myself, and what I want to take to trade.” Besides being one of Joharran’s close aides, Solaban was a maker of handles, especially knife handles.
“I think most everyone is here,” Proleva said, “and it’s stopped raining.”
Joharran nodded, went out from under the overhang that had protected them from the cloudburst, and jumped up on the platform stone at the far end of the shelter. He looked at the people starting to gather around, then smiled at Ayla.
Ayla smiled back, but she was feeling nervous. She glanced up at Jondalar, who was looking at the crowd forming around the large raised stone.
“Weren’t we here not very long ago?” Joharran said with an ironic smile. “When I first introduced her to you, we didn’t know much about Ayla, except that she had traveled here with my brother Jondalar, and had an unusual way with animals. We have learned much more about Ayla of the Mamutoi in the short time that she’s been here.
“I think we all suspected that Jondalar planned to mate the woman he brought home with him, and we were right. They will join at the First Matrimonial of the Summer Meeting. Once they are mated, they will live with us at the Ninth Cave, and I for one welcome them.”
There were several comments of agreement from the assembly.
“But Ayla is not a Zelandonii. Whenever a Zelandonii mates someone who is not one of us, there are usually negotiations and other customs that need to be worked out between us and the other people. In Ayla’s case, however, the Mamutoi live so far away, we’d have to travel a year just to meet her people, and to be honest, I’m getting too old to make such a long Journey.”
Laughter and comments greeted his remark. “Getting long in the tooth, Joharran?” a young man called out.
“Wait until you’ve lived as many years as I have. Then you’ll know what old is,” a white-haired man said.
When things settled down, Joharran continued. “Once they are mated, most people will think of her as Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, but Jondalar suggested that the Ninth Cave accept her as Zelandonii before the Matrimonial. In effect, he has asked that we adopt her. It would make the Matrimonial ceremonies easier and less confusing, and we wouldn’t have to get special dispensations from everyone at the Summer Meeting if we do it before we go.”
“What does she want?” a woman asked.
Everyone turned to look at her. Ayla swallowed hard, and then, concentrating on saying the words as correctly as she could, she said, “More than anything in this world, I want to be a Zelandonii woman, and mated to Jondalar.”
Though she tried, she couldn’t prevent the unusual quality of the way she spoke, and no one who heard her could mistake her foreign origins; but the simple statement, spoken with such sincere conviction, won most people over.
“She did travel a long way to get here.” “She’ll be the same as Zelandonii anyway.”
“But what is her status?” Laramar asked.
“She will have the same status as Jondalar,” Marthona said. She had expected him to make trouble, and this time she was ready.
“Jondalar has a high position in the Ninth Cave because you are his mother, but we don’t know anything about her, except that she was raised by flatheads,” Laramar said loudly.
“She was also adopted by the highest-ranked Mamut, which is what they call a Zelandoni. She would have been adopted by the leader if the Mamut hadn’t spoken for her,” Marthona said.
“Why does there always seem to be one who objects?” Ayla said to Jondalar in Mamutoi. “Are we going to have to make fire with a firestone and then give him one to persuade him, like Frebec at the Lion Camp?”
“Frebec turned out to be a good man; somehow I don’t think Laramar will,” Jondalar murmured back.
“That’s what she says. How do we know?” Laramar said, continuing his loud objections.
“Because my son was there, and he says the same thing,” Marthona replied. “The leader, Joharran, doesn’t doubt them.”
“Joharran is family. Of course Jondalar’s brother isn’t going to doubt her. She will be part of your family, and you all want her to have a high status,” Laramar said.
“I don’t know why you are objecting, Laramar,” a voice from another quarter spoke out. People turned and were surprised to see that it was Stelona. “If it wasn’t for Ayla, your mate’s youngest daughter would probably have starved to death. You didn’t tell us that Tremeda got sick and lost her milk, or that Lanoga was trying to keep her alive with mashed-up roots. Ayla did. I wonder if you even knew. Zelandonii don’t let Zelandonii starve. Several of us mothers are feeding the baby, and Lorala is already getting stronger. I would be more than willing to sponsor Ayla, if she needs one. She is a woman the Zelandonii would be proud to claim.”
Several other women spoke up, defending Ayla, all nursing mothers holding their infants. The story of Ayla and Tremeda’s baby had started to spread, but not everyone knew, or knew the entire story. Most people understood what kind of “sickness” Tremeda had, but in any case her milk was gone, and they were glad the baby was being fed.
“Do you have any more objections, Laramar?” Joharran said. The man shook his head and backed away. “Does anyone else have any objections to accepting Ayla into the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii?” There was a background murmur, but no one spoke up. He reached down and gave Ayla a hand to help her up onto the level stone, then they turned to face the people. “Since several people are willing to sponsor her, and there are no objections, let me introduce Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, formerly a Member of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi, Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth, Chosen by the Spirit of the Cave Lion, Protected by the Cave Bear, Friend of the horses, Whinney and Racer, and the four-legged hunter, Wolf.” He had spoken to Jondalar to make sure he got her names and ties right, and memorized them. “And soon to be mated to Jondalar,” he added. “Now, let’s go eat!”
They both got down from the Speaking Stone, and as they made their way toward the food, they were stopped by people introducing themselves again, commenting on Tremeda’s baby, and in general welcoming her.
But one person had no wish to welcome her. Laramar was not a man who was easily embarrassed, but he had been thoroughly chastened and was not happy about it. Before Laramar left the group, he glared at Ayla with a look so full of anger, it left her chilled. He didn’t know Zelandoni had seen it, too. When they reached the place where the food was being served, they noticed that Laramar’s barma was being offered, but the one who was pouring it was his mate’s oldest son, Bologan.
As people were beginning to eat, it started raining again. They found places beneath the deep overhanging shelf to enjoy their food, some sitting on the ground, others on logs or blocks of stone that had been brought in at various times and left for future use. Zelandoni caught up with Ayla as she was walking toward Jondalar’s family.
“I’m afraid you have an enemy in Laramar,” she said.
“I’m sorry about that,” Ayla said. “I didn’t mean to cause problems for him.”
“You didn’t cause his problems. He was trying to cause you problems, or rather trying to humiliate Marthona and her family, and brought problems on himself instead. But now, I think he will blame you,” Zelandoni said.
“Why should he want to make trouble for Marthona?”
“Because he is the lowest-ranked member of the Ninth Cave and she and Joharran are the highest, and he managed to catch her in a slight mistake the other day. As you may already know, that is hard to do. I think it may have given him a temporary illusion of triumph, and he liked it so well, he thought he’d try it again,” the donier said.
Ayla’s frown deepened as Zelandoni explained. “It may not be just Marthona he wanted to get the better of,” Ayla said. “I think I made a mistake the other day, too.”
“What do you mean?”
“The day I went there to show Lanoga how to make food for the baby and give her a bath, and clean herself, Laramar came home. I’m sure he didn’t know the baby had no milk, he didn’t even know about Bologan’s injuries. It made me angry; I don’t like him. Wolf was with me, and I know when Laramar saw him, he got scared. He tried to cover up his fear, and I found myself feeling like a wolf pack leader wanting to put a lower-ranked wolf in his place. I knew I shouldn’t have done it. It just gave him bad feelings toward me,” Ayla said.
“Do leaders of wolf packs really put lower-ranked wolves in their place?” Zelandoni said. “How do you know?”
“I learned to hunt meat-eaters before I learned to hunt meat,” Ayla said. “I’d spend whole days watching them. That may be why Wolf can live with people. Their ways are not so different from ours.”
“How amazing!” Zelandoni said. “And, I’m afraid you’re right. You created some bad feelings, but it wasn’t entirely your fault. At the burial, you were among the highest ranked of the Ninth Cave, which is where I thought you belonged; Marthona and I agreed. He wanted you in the place he thought you belonged, which was behind him. Traditionally, he was correct.
“At a burial, all the members of a Cave should go before anyone who is visiting. But you are not exactly a visitor. First you were with the zelandonia, because you are a healer, and they always go first. Then you were with Jondalar and his family, which is also where you belong, as everybody agreed today. But at the burial, he mentioned it to Marthona and caught her off guard. That’s why he thought he’d triumphed. Then, without even knowing it, you put him in his place. He thought he could get back at both of you through Marthona, but he seriously underestimated her.”
“There you are,” Jondalar said. “We were just talking about Laramar.”
“So were we,” Ayla said, but she doubted that their conversation had brought out the same insights. Partly because of her own doing, and partly because of circumstances she wasn’t aware of, she had created an enemy. Another one, she realized. She hadn’t wanted to cause bad feelings in any of Jondalar’s people, but in the short time she had been there, she had made two people angry at her. Marona hated her, too. She realized she hadn’t seen the woman for some time and wondered where she was.
