The people of the Ninth Cave had been making preparations for their annual trek to the Summer Meeting of the Zelandonii since they returned from the last one, but as the time of their departure drew near, activities and anticipation became more intense. There were final decisions about what to take with them and what to leave behind, but it was the process of closing down their dwellings for the summer that always made them aware that they were leaving and would not be back until cold winds blew.
A few people would stay behind for one reason or another: temporary or more serious illness, to finish a project, to wait for someone. Others would return occasionally to their winter home, but most would be gone all summer. Some people would stay close to the place that had been chosen for the Summer Meeting, but many would travel to different places for diverse reasons throughout the warm season.
There would be hunting trips, harvesting treks, visits to relatives, sojourns to group meetings of other Zelandonii, and travels to neighboring peoples. Some young people would venture farther afield and go on Journeys. Jondalar’s return with new discoveries and inventions, a beautiful and exotic woman with rare talents, and exciting stories would encourage some of those who had been thinking about it to decide to go on a Journey of their own, and some mothers who knew that his brother had died far away would be unhappy that Jondalar had returned and caused such excitement.
The evening before they planned to leave, the entire Ninth Cave was eager and restless. When Ayla thought about the Summer Meeting, where she and Jondalar would be mated, she could hardly believe it was really true. Sometimes she would wake up and be almost afraid to open her eyes for fear that it might be just a wonderful dream and she would find herself back in the small cave in her lonely valley. She thought often of Iza, wishing that somehow the woman she regarded as her mother could know that she would soon have a mate, and that she had finally found her people, at least the ones she chose to be her people.
Ayla had long ago accepted the fact that she would never know the people to whom she was born, or even who they were, and realized that it didn’t matter. When she was living with the Clan, she had wanted to be one of them, a woman of the Clan, which clan was not important. But when she finally understood that she was not Clan, and never would be, then the only distinction that mattered was that she was one of the Others, in her mind kin to all of the Others. She had been happy to be Mamutoi, the people who had adopted her, and she would have been content to be Sharamudoi, the people who had asked Jondalar and her to stay and live with them. She wanted to be Zelandonii only because they were Jondalar’s people, not because they were any better than, or even very different from, any of the Others.
During the long winter, when most people stayed close to the Ninth Cave, many of them spent time making gifts they would be giving to people when they saw them again at the next Summer Meeting. When she heard people talking about gifts, Ayla decided to make some, too. Though she’d had only a short time to work on them, she made small tokens that she planned to give to those people who had been especially kind to her, and who she knew would be giving gifts to her and Jondalar for their Matrimonial. She had a surprise for Jondalar, too. She had brought it with her all the way from the Summer Meeting of the Mamutoi. It was the one thing she insisted on taking with her through all the adversities and hardships of their Journey.
Jondalar was planning a surprise of his own. He had discussed with Joharran the best place to establish a home for Ayla and himself within the abri of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, and he wanted it to be ready for Ayla when they returned in the fall. To that end, he had been making arrangements. He talked with the fabricators of outside wall panels, and the people who were best at the construction of the lower stone walls, with those who were skilled at stone paving, and the ones who made interior room division panels, with the specialists in making all the components required to erect a dwelling.
Planning their future home involved some complicated trading and bargaining. First, Jondalar agreed to trade some good stone knives for fresh hides from several people, mostly from the recent megaceros and bison hunts. The blades of the knives would be knapped by him, but they would be hafted in finely made handles fabricated by Solaban, whose work Jondalar especially admired. In return for the handles, Jondalar had agreed to produce several burins—chisel-like flint carving tools—to the handle-maker’s specific requirements. Long talks between the two men that included drawings made with charcoal on birch bark had created an understanding of what was wanted.
Some of the skins Jondalar acquired would be used to make the rawhide panels Jondalar needed for his dwelling, and some would compensate Shevola, the panel-maker, for her time and effort. He also promised to make her a couple of special leather-cutting knives, some hide-scrapers, and some woodcutting tools.
He made similar arrangements with Zelandoni’s acolyte, the artist Jonokol, to paint the panels, which would incorporate Jonokol’s own ideas of design and composition using basic symbols and animals that all Zelandonii were generally expected to use, along with some that Jondalar wanted. Jonokol also wanted some special tools. He had some ideas for sculpturing limestone in high relief, but he lacked the flint-knapping skill to convert the ideas he envisioned for a special kind of burin with a beaked nose into the tool he wanted. Burins and specialized flint tools were difficult to make in any case. It took a very experienced and skilled flint-knapper to make them well.
Once the materials and various components were ready, it would take relatively little time to actually construct the dwelling. Jondalar had already persuaded several of his relatives and friends to make a trek back with him to the Ninth Cave from the Summer Meeting, along with the skilled workers—but without Ayla—to help him build it. He smiled to himself every time he imagined how pleased she would be when they returned in the fall to find she had a home of her own.
Though it took several long afternoons for Jondalar to barter his skill at making flint tools with all the other people who could make the elements that would be needed for him to construct a place to live, the bargaining was often enjoyable. It usually started with pleasantries, then good-natured arguments that sometimes sounded like heated battles or insulting comments, but usually concluded in laughter over a cup of tea, or barma, or wine, or even a meal. Jondalar was careful to make sure Ayla was not present when he was bargaining for the dwelling, but that did not mean she wasn’t exposed to the practice.
The first time she heard people bargaining, she didn’t understand the nature of the loud, colorfully vilifying exchange. It was between Proleva and Salova, Rushemar’s mate, who was a maker of baskets. Ayla thought they were really angry, and she hurried to get Jondalar, hoping he could do something to stop it.
“You say Proleva and Salova are having a terrible disagreement? What are they saying?” Jondalar asked.
“Proleva said Salova’s baskets were ugly and poorly made, but it’s not true. Her baskets are beautiful, and Proleva must think so, too. I’ve seen several in her dwelling. Why would she say such a thing to her?” Ayla said. “Can’t you do something to stop them from fighting like that?”
Jondalar understood her genuine concern, but he was having trouble suppressing a smile. Finally he could not hold back any longer and laughed out loud. “Ayla, Ayla. They are not fighting, they are enjoying themselves. Proleva wants some of Salova’s baskets, and that’s the way it’s done. They will come to an agreement, and both will be happy. It’s called bargaining, and I can’t stop it. If I could, they would feel cheated of their fun. Why don’t you go back and watch them? You’ll see. Before long, they will be smiling, each thinking she has made a good trade.”
“Are you sure, Jondalar? They seem so angry,” Ayla said. She could hardly believe Proleva just wanted some of Salova’s baskets and that this was the way they went about it.
She went back and found a place to sit nearby to watch and listen. If this was the way things were done among Jondalar’s people, she wanted to be able to bargain, too. After a few moments, she noticed that several other people were watching the confrontation, smiling and nodding to each other. She soon realized the two women were not really angry, but she doubted that she would ever be able to say something was so dreadful if she really believed it was beautiful. She shook her head in wonderment. What a strange way to behave!
When the bargaining was concluded, she went to find Jondalar. “Why do people enjoy saying such terrible things when they don’t mean them? I’m not sure if I’ll ever learn to ‘bargain’ like that.”
“Ayla, both Proleva and Salova knew that each didn’t really mean what the other said. They were playing a game with each other. As long as both of them know it’s a game, there is no harm,” Jondalar said.
Ayla thought about it. There is more to it than it seems, she thought, but she couldn’t quite think what it was.
The night before they were to leave, after bundles had been packed, the tent checked and repaired, and traveling gear readied, everyone in Marthona’s home was so excited, no one wanted to go to bed. Proleva stopped by with Jaradal to see if any help was needed. Marthona invited them to come in and sit for a while, and Ayla volunteered to make a nice tea. After a second tapping at the entrance, Folara admitted Joharran and Zelandoni. They had arrived together from different directions, both with offers and questions, but actually wanting to visit and talk. Ayla added more water and extra herbs to the tea.
“Did the traveling tent need repairs?” Proleva asked.
“Not many,” Marthona said. “Ayla helped Folara with it. They used Ayla’s new thread-puller.”
The traveling tents that would be set up each evening were large enough to accommodate several people, and Marthona’s family tent would be shared by all of them: Marthona, Willamar, and Folara; Joharran, Proleva, and Jaradal; and Jondalar and Ayla. Zelandoni would be traveling with them as well, Ayla was pleased to learn. She seemed like a member of the family, like an aunt without a mate. The tent would have one other occupant, the four-legged hunter Wolf, and the two horses would be nearby.
“Did you have any trouble getting poles?” Joharran asked.
“I broke an axe cutting them down,” Willamar said.
“Could you resharpen it?” Joharran asked. Though tall straight trees had been cut for tent poles, they would still need wood for fires along the way and after they arrived at the site of the Summer Meeting, and axes to cut trees down, though unpolished stone axes had their own way of being used.
“It shattered. I couldn’t sharpen it, I couldn’t even get a blade out of it,” Willamar said.
“It was a bad piece of flint,” Jondalar said. “Full of small inclusions.”
“Jondalar made a new axe, and resharpened the others,” Willamar said. “It’s good to have him back.”
“Except now we’re going to have to watch out for stray chips of flint again,” Marthona said. Ayla noticed she was smiling and understood that she wasn’t really complaining. She was glad he was home, too. “He did clean up the flakes he knocked off to sharpen the axes. Not like when he was a boy. I didn’t see a single sharp sliver of stone. Of course, I don’t see as well anymore.”
“The tea is ready,” Ayla said. “Does anyone need a cup?”
“Jaradal doesn’t have one. You should always remember to bring your own cup, Jaradal,” Proleva said, reminding her young son.
“I don’t need to bring my own cup here. Grandam has my own cup for me,” Jaradal said.
“He’s right,” Marthona said. “Do you remember where it is, Jaradal?”
“Yes, ’Thona,” he said, getting up and running to a low shelf and returning with a small cup shaped and hollowed out of wood. “Here it is.” He held it high to show everyone, causing delighted smiles from the assembled group. Ayla noticed that Wolf had moved from his customary spot near the entrance and was wriggling on his belly toward the boy with his tail held high, every motion of his body expressing his yearning to reach the object of his desire. The boy spied the animal, drank down his tea in a few gulps, then announced, “I play with Wolf now,” though he was watching Ayla to see what her reaction would be.
Jaradal reminded her so much of Durc, she couldn’t help but smile. The boy headed toward the animal, who made a whining yelp as he got up to meet him, then started licking Jaradal’s face. Ayla could tell that Wolf was beginning to feel comfortable with his new, though very large, pack, especially the child of the extended family and his friends. For Wolf’s sake, she almost felt sorry that they would be leaving so soon. She knew it would be hard on him to be faced with the many new people they would meet. It would be hard on her, too. Her excitement about the Summer Meeting was tinged with trepidation.
“This is very good tea, Ayla,” Zelandoni said. “You sweetened it with licorice root, didn’t you?”
Ayla smiled. “Yes. It’s calming for the stomach. Everyone is so excited about leaving, I thought I should make something calming.”
“And it tastes good.” Zelandoni paused, considering her words. “It occurs to me, since we are all here, that perhaps you should show Joharran and Proleva your way of making fire. I know I asked everyone not to tell anyone else about it yet, but we are all going to be traveling together and they will see it anyway.”
Jondalar’s brother and his mate glanced at the others with questioning looks, and then at each other.
Folara smiled. “Should I put the fire out?”
“Yes, why don’t you,” the donier said. “It is more impressive to see it that way the first time.”
“I don’t understand. What’s this about fire?” Joharran said.
“Ayla discovered a new way to start a fire,” Jondalar said, “but it’s easier to show you.”
“Why don’t you show them, Jondalar?” Ayla said.
Jondalar asked his brother and Proleva to come to the cooking hearth, and after Folara smothered the fire, and other people put out the lamps that were near them, Jondalar used the firestone and flint and soon had a small fire started.
“How did you do that?” the leader asked. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Jondalar held up the firestone. “Ayla discovered the magic in these stones,” he said. “I’ve been meaning to tell you about them, but there’s been so much going on, I haven’t had time yet. We just showed Zelandoni, and not long ago Marthona, Willamar, and Folara.”
“Are you saying anyone can do that?” Proleva said.
“Yes, with practice, anyone can do it,” Marthona said.
“Yes, let me show you how the stones work,” Jondalar said. He went through the process, and Joharran and Proleva were amazed.
“One of those stones is flint, what is the other one? And where does it come from?” Proleva said.
“Ayla calls it a firestone,” Jondalar said, and explained how she happened to discover its properties. “We looked, but didn’t see any on the way back. I was beginning to think they could be found only in the east, then Ayla found some not far from here. If there are some nearby, there should be more. We’ll keep looking. We have enough for all of us, but they could be significant gifts, and Willamar thinks they would be good to trade.”
“Jondalar, I think we’re going to have to have some long talks. I wonder just what else you haven’t told me. You go off on a Journey, and return with horses that carry you on their backs, a wolf that lets children pull his fur, powerful new throwing weapons, magic stones that make instant fire, stories about intelligent flatheads, and a beautiful woman who knows their language and learned healing from them. Are you sure there isn’t something else you’ve forgotten to tell me?” Joharran said.
Jondalar smiled wryly. “Not that I can think of right now,” he said. “When you put it all together like that, I guess it does sound rather unbelievable.”
“ ‘Rather unbelievable’? Listen to him!” Joharran said. “Jondalar, I have a feeling your ‘rather unbelievable’ Journey is going to be talked about for many years.”
“He does have interesting stories to tell,” Willamar admitted.
“It’s all your fault, Willamar,” Jondalar said with a grin, then looked at his brother. “Don’t you remember staying up late listening to him telling stories about his travels and adventures, Joharran? I always thought he was better than many of the traveling Story-Tellers. Did you ever show Joharran the gift he just brought you, mother?”
“No, Joharran and Proleva haven’t seen it yet,” Marthona said. “I’ll go get it.” She went into her sleeping room and returned with a flat section of palmate antler and gave it to Joharran. It was carved with two streamlined animals apparently swimming. They were fishlike, but not fish. “What did you say these were, Willamar?”
“They’re called seals,” he said. “They live in the water, but they breathe air, and come to shore to give birth.”
“This is remarkable,” Proleva said.
“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” Marthona said.
“We saw some animals like those on our Journey. They live in an inland sea far to the east,” Jondalar said.
“Some people think they are spirits of the water,” Ayla added.
“I saw another creature that lives in the Great Waters of the West that is thought of as a special spirit helper of the Mother by the people who live nearby,” Willamar said. “They are even more fishlike than seals. They give birth in the sea, but it is said they breathe air and nurse their young. They can stand on top of the water on their tails—I saw one do it—and it’s said they speak their own language. The people who live there call them dolphins, and some of them claim they can speak dolphin language. They made high squeaking sounds to show me.
“They tell many stories and legends about them,” Willamar continued. “It’s said they help people to fish by driving them into nets, and they have saved the lives of people whose boats have capsized far from shore, who would otherwise have drowned. Their Elder Legends say that all people once lived in the sea. Some of them returned to the land, but the ones who stayed behind became dolphins. Some call them cousins, and their Zelandoni says they are related to people. She’s the one who gave this plaque to me. They venerate the dolphin almost as much as the Mother. Every family has a donii, but everyone also has some dolphin object, a carving like that, or a part of the animal, a bone or tooth. It is considered very lucky.”
“And you said I had interesting stories to tell, Willamar,” Jondalar said. “Fish that breathe air and stand on their tails on top of the water. It almost makes me want to go with you.”
“Maybe next year when I go to trade for salt, you can come. It’s not such a long Journey, especially compared to the one you made,” Willamar said.
“I thought you said you didn’t want to travel again, Jondalar,” Marthona said, “and here you are, home only a short time and planning another trip. Have you developed a traveling urge? Like Willamar?”
“Well, trading missions aren’t exactly Journeys,” Jondalar said, “and I’m not ready to make a trip now, except to the Summer Meeting, but a year is a long way off.”
Folara and Jaradal, curled up with Wolf on Folara’s bed, tried to stay awake. They didn’t want to miss anything, but with the wolf between them, listening to the stories and the soft buzz of conversation, they both fell asleep.
The next day dawned with a gray drizzle, but the summer shower didn’t dampen the enthusiasm of the Cave for the impending trek. Despite staying up late the night before, the members of Marthona’s household were up early. They made a morning meal of the food they had set out the night before and then finished packing. The rain eased up, and the sun tried to burn off the clouds, but moisture from the night’s accumulation on leaves and in puddles made the air foggy, cool, and damp.
When everyone who was going had gathered on the front terrace, they started out. With Joharran leading the way, they headed north, walking down from the stone front porch to Wood River Valley. It was a large party, much larger, Ayla observed, than the group from the Lion Camp when they went to the Mamutoi Summer Meeting. There were still many people Ayla did not know very well, but by now she at least knew almost everyone’s name.
Ayla was curious which way Joharran would go. From the ride they took on the horses, she knew that when they started, the floodplain valley on the right bank of The River—the Ninth Cave side—was broad. If they headed upstream along The River in its meandering but generally northeast direction, trees would be close to the water, and a wide expanse of grassy field separated The River from the highlands on both sides, and climbed up to the highlands in a gradual slope. However, after a short distance, water hugged steep cliffs on the other side, the left bank, which was on the right-hand side as one traveled toward the source. “Left bank” and “right bank” were terms that always referred to the sides of rivers when going downstream in the direction of the flowing current. They were traveling upstream.
Jondalar had told her that the next closest community of Zelandonii was only a few miles away, but that they would need a raft to complete the trip if they stayed close to The River because the course of the waterway changed. Farther upstream it curved in a more northerly direction, and the lay of the land forced the water to the wall of the cliff on the right bank, their side, with no space for even a narrow path after it turned north, and finally east again before the next abri was reached. The people of the Ninth Cave usually took an overland route to visit their nearest northern neighbors.
The leader turned up the path beside the Wood River tributary to the shallow crossing, then cut directly across Wood River Valley. Ayla noticed that they were not following the route she and Jondalar had taken with the horses shortly after they arrived. Instead of cutting across to the narrow valley with the steep, dry streambed, Joharran took a trail that was parallel to The River, leading to the flat lowlands of the right bank. They turned left through grass and brush and started up the gradual slope, then switchbacked in a zigzag up the face of the highland.
Ayla kept track of Wolf out of the corner of her eye as he ran ahead, following his nose. She recognized most of the plants she saw and registered in her mind their uses and where they were growing. There’s a stand of black birch over there by The River, she thought, the bark can help prevent miscarriage, and here’s some sweet rush, which can cause one. And it’s always good to know where willow grows; a decoction of the bark is so good for headaches, and the aching bones of the elderly, and other pains. I didn’t know there was marjoram around here. It makes a nice tea, adds a good flavor to meat, and it’s good for headaches, too, and helps a baby’s colic. I’ll have to remember this for later. Durc didn’t suffer from colic much, but some babies do.
The trail steepened as they reached the sharper incline near the top, then opened out to the high level field. When they reached the windy plateau, she walked a ways ahead to the edge, then stopped to rest and wait for Jondalar, who was having a little trouble leading Racer and his travois up the steep, rocky path with the abrupt turns. Whinney cropped a few blades of fresh grass while they waited. Ayla adjusted the mare’s pole drag and checked the load she carried in panniers and on her back, then stroked her and talked to her in the special horse language. Ayla looked down at The River and its floodplain, and the long line of people, young and old, straggling up the trail, then the view beyond.
The elevated plateau offered an expansive panorama of the surrounding countryside, and a misty, illusionary scene below. A few wisps of fog were still tangled in the trees near the water, and a shroud of soft white concealed The River in places, but the veil was lifting, revealing shafts of light from the brilliant orb glinting from the surging stream. Across in the distance, the fog thickened and the limestone hills faded into a gray-white sky.
When Jondalar arrived with Racer, they started across the high plateau together. Walking with the tall man with whom she had Journeyed for so long, with the wolf at her heels and the horses pulling the pole drags following close behind, Ayla was euphoric. She was with the ones she loved most and could hardly believe the man beside her would soon be her mate. She remembered only too well her feelings during the similar trek they had made with the Lion Camp. Then, she had felt that every step she took brought her closer to an inevitable destiny she did not want. She had promised to mate a man she truly cared for, and might have been happy with, if she hadn’t met and loved Jondalar first. But Jondalar had become distant, didn’t seem to love her anymore, and there was no doubt that Ranec not only loved her, but wanted her desperately.
Ayla had no such adverse feelings now. She was so filled with happiness, she felt sure it overflowed and suffused the air around her, permeating the ground she walked upon. Jondalar was also remembering the trip to the Mamutoi Summer Meeting. The problem had been his jealousy and his fear of facing his people with a woman who might not be acceptable. He had resolved his problems and was no less full of joy than she. Then, he had been sure Ayla was lost to him forever, but here she was beside him, and every time he looked at her, she looked back at him with eyes full of love.
They followed the trail across the level highland that took them to another viewpoint at the cliff’s edge, where they had stopped when they were there alone. Before they crossed the small stream, they paused to watch the thin waterfall dropping over the edge into The River directly below. The people of the Cave had spread out across the high field, some making their own trail. The walkers took with them only what they could carry, though packs could be heavy and some planned to go back to get a second load, usually of items they wanted to trade.
Ayla and Jondalar had talked to Joharran and offered to the Cave the hauling services of the two horses. The leader spoke to several people, but he decided to load up the horses with meat from the recent deer and bison hunts. When he originally planned the hunts, he had expected that several people would need to make an extra trip back to the Ninth Cave to bring the meat to the site of the Summer Meeting.
Using the horses saved them the trouble, and for the first time he realized that trained horses could be more than a novelty. They could be useful. Even the help they had provided on the hunt, and Jondalar’s fast trip back to the Ninth Cave to tell Zelandoni and Shevonar’s mate about the tragic accident, had not given him the full awareness of their potential benefit. He understood better when he and several others were saved a trek back to the Ninth Cave, but with the horses traveling so close, he also became aware that the animals required extra work.
Whinney was used to the pole drag, she had pulled a travois during most of their Journey. Racer was less accustomed to hauling a load and was more unmanageable. Joharran had seen that his brother had to work with the horse, especially turning on the trail where the poles restricted his movement. It required patience to keep the young stallion calm and lead him around obstacles while maintaining the load intact. At the Ninth Cave, Ayla and Jondalar had started out near the front of the group, but by the time they crossed the small stream and angled northwest again, they were closer to the middle.
They reached the place where Ayla and Jondalar had turned back before, where the path began to descend. This time they followed it as it twisted and turned along the easiest grade, winding through brush, open grassland, and, in a protected dip, trees. They reached a rock shelter that was so close to the water, part of it extended over the water. They had traveled just under two miles in actual distance, though the steep climbs made the journey longer.
The shelter had a front porch that was so close to the edge of The River, a person could dive into water from it. The shelter was called River Front and faced south. It extended from west to east all the way to a southward-turning meander of The River that swung back around on itself so close, it would have joined at the neck of the loop it formed if it hadn’t been for the finger of highland between. Though it appeared to be a habitable shelter, no Cave lived there, though travelers, expecially those on rafts, sometimes stopped off. The water was a little too close, and it sometimes overflowed into the shelter when The River flooded.
The Ninth Cave didn’t stop at River Front, but climbed back up the cliff behind the shelter. The trail continued north, then curved around toward the east. About a mile after leaving River Front, the trail headed down a fairly steep grade to the valley of a small stream that was usually dry in summer. After crossing the muddy streambed, Joharran stopped and everybody rested while he waited for Jondalar and Ayla. Several people made small fires to boil water for a hot tea. Some took out traveling food, especially those with children, and had a snack.
“We need to make a choice here, Jondalar,” Joharran said. “Which way do you think we should go?”
Because The River meandered through its valley, crowding close to cliff walls on first one side and then the other, it was sometimes easier to travel between Caves across the highlands. To reach the next site, however, there was another possibility.
“From here there are two ways we can go,” Jondalar said. “If we follow this trail across the top of the cliffs, we’ll have to climb up this slope, go across the highland for about half the distance we’ve already come, then go down again until we come to another little stream. It usually has water, but it’s shallow and easy to cross. Then we have another steep climb that traverses the front of the cliff overlooking The River, then down again. The River runs through the middle of a large grassy field there, the floodplain. We’ll stop and visit with the Twenty-ninth Cave, probably overnight.”
“But there’s another way to go,” Joharran said. “The Twenty-ninth Cave is called Three Rocks because they have three shelters, not right next to each other, but spaced around The River and the large floodplain. Two of them are on this side, the third is on the other side of The River.”
Joharran pointed to the slope ahead. “Instead of climbing this, we can turn east to The River. It turns north ahead and you have to cross to the other side because the water runs right next to the cliffs on this side, but there’s a long, shallow stretch that’s easy to get across. And the Twenty-ninth Cave keeps stepping-stones there, as we do at the Crossing. We go along the other side for a while, then The River turns east again and crowds the cliffs on the other side, so you have to cross back over, but it spreads out and gets shallow again and that crossing also has stepping-stones. We can stop at two of the shelters on this side to visit, but we have to cross over again to get to the third and biggest one, because that is probably where we’ll stay, especially if it rains.”
“If we go that way, we have to climb; if we go this way, we have to cross running water,” Jondalar finished for him. “What do you think would be the best way with the horses and the pole drags?”
“It’s easy to cross rivers with the horses, but if it’s very deep, the meat on the pole drags can get wet, which means it could spoil if it’s not dried out again,” Ayla said. “On our Journey, we had the poles attached to the bowl boat, so it always floated up when we had to cross rivers. But didn’t you say we have to cross The River at least once anyway?”
Jondalar walked behind Racer’s pole drag. “I was thinking, Joharran. If we can get a couple of people to walk back here behind the horses and lift up the ends of the poles just enough to keep them out of the water, I think we could get across without getting anything wet.”
“I’m sure we could find people to do that. There are always a few young men who like to splash through the water whenever there’s a crossing anyway. I’ll go ask around,” Joharran said. “I think most people would rather not climb any more than they have to, with the loads they’re all carrying.”
When Joharran left, Jondalar decided to check Racer’s lead rope. He stroked the horse, gave him some grain that he had in a pouch. Ayla smiled at him; she was paying attention to Wolf, who came to see why they stopped. She felt the special bond she and Jondalar had formed on their Journey. Then it occurred to her that they had another. They were the only people who understood the connection that could develop between a person and an animal.
“There is another way to go upriver … well, two more,” Jondalar said while they were waiting. “One is to pole up by raft, but I don’t think that would work too well with the horses. The other is to go along the top of the cliffs on the other side of The River. You have to take the Crossing, and it’s actually easier to go all the way to the Third Cave and start from there. They have a good path to the top of Two Rivers Rock that continues as a trail across the highland. It’s more level than this side, only a few minor dips. There aren’t as many tributaries on that side of The River, but if you plan to stop at the Twenty-ninth Cave, you have to come down and cross The River again. That’s why Joharran decided to stay on this side.”
While they rested, Ayla asked about the people they were going to visit. Jondalar described the unusual arrangement of the people of the Twenty-ninth Cave of the Zelandonii. Three Rocks consisted of three separate settlements of stone shelters in three separate cliffs that formed a triangle around the floodplain of the meandering river, all within a mile and a half of each other.
“The Histories say that they used to be separate Caves, numbered with earlier counting words, and there were more than three,” Jondalar explained, “but they all had to share the same field and rivers, and they were always disputing rights, arguing about which Cave could use what, and when. I guess it got rather bitter, some men actually started fighting with each other. Then the Zelandoni of South Face got the idea to join together into one Cave, work together and share everything. If a herd of aurochs migrated through, it wouldn’t be the hunters of all the different Caves going after them separately, but one hunting party from all the Caves working together.”
Ayla thought for a while. “But the Ninth Cave works together with the neighboring Caves. On that last hunt, the hunters from the Eleventh, the Fourteenth, the Third, the Second, and a few people from the Seventh all hunted together and everyone shared the food.”
“That’s true, but all of our Caves don’t have to share everything,” Jondalar said. “The Ninth Cave has Wood River Valley, and animals sometimes move along The River right in front of the porch, the Fourteenth has Little Valley, the Eleventh can raft to a big field right across The River, the Third has Grass Valley, and the Second and Seventh share Sweet Valley—when we get back, we’ll go and visit them. We can all work together when we want, but we don’t have to. All the Caves that joined to become the Twenty-ninth had to share the same hunting area. They now call it Three Rocks Valley, but it is a part of The River Valley and North River Valley.”
He explained that The River took an eastward turn, cutting through the middle of the large grassy floodplain. It was joined on the north by a healthy tributary and its valley. Two of the settlements were on the right bank of The River, the one to the west that could be reached overland from River Front and another to the north. A third massive cliff with several stories of rock shelters was to the south, across The River on the left bank. It was one of the few inhabited rock shelters with a north-facing front.
The western settlement, or the West Holding of the Twenty-ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, consisted of several small rock shelters in the side of a hill. Jondalar told her they also maintained a more or less permanent campsite of lean-tos, fireplaces, and drying racks and, in summer, tents and other temporary shelters near West Holding. It was at the opening of a sheltered valley of stone pines, whose pine-nut-filled cones were a source of vegetable oil so rich, it could be burned in lamps, though it was so delicious, it was seldom used for that purpose.
People from the entire community of Three Rocks, and others that were invited to help in return for a share, gathered for the pine-nut harvest. That was the primary purpose for the outdoor camp, but it was also near a very good fishing spot that lent itself to fish traps and weirs. It was used quite often by the community all through the warmer part of the year and usually not closed down until the freeze stilled The River for the winter. Though people lived in the various rock shelters of West Holding all year and the nut harvest, which was the original reason the campsite was established, was in autumn, the first tents went up at the beginning of the warm season to work the fish traps, and everyone always talked about going to “summer camp.” The western settlement came to be known as Summer Camp.
“Their Zelandoni is a good artist,” Jondalar said. “In one of the shelters, she has engraved animals on the walls, maybe we’ll have time to visit her. She makes small carvings to carry, too. But we’ll be back here for the nut harvest, anyway.”
Joharran returned with three young men and one young woman who had volunteered to walk behind the travois and lift the poles out of the water when they crossed rivers. They all seemed rather pleased to have been chosen to perform the task. Joharran had no trouble finding people who were willing, the problem was making the selection. Many people wanted to get closer to the horses, and the wolf, and learn more about the foreign woman. It would give them something interesting to talk about at the Summer Meeting.
On the more level terrain, except during the actual water crossings, Jondalar and Ayla were able to walk side by side, leading the horses. Wolf, as usual, did not follow as closely. He liked to explore when he traveled, running ahead and falling behind, following his curiosity and the scents his sensitive nose detected. Jondalar used the opportunity to tell Ayla more about the people they would be staying with and their territory.
He talked about the large tributary coming down from the north, called North River, that joined The River on the right bank. The northern side of the grassy floodplain was enlarged by North River’s valley as well as by the continually expanding upstream valley of The River itself. Jutting out between the valleys of the tributary and the primary was the oldest living site of the community, the northern settlement, formally the North Holding of the Twenty-ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, but referred to as South Face. To reach it from Summer Camp, he told her, they used a path that led to stepping-stones across the tributary, but now they were approaching it along The River.
Ahead, on a hill overlooking the open landscape, was a triangular-shaped cliff that held three south-facing terraces arranged like steps, one over the other. Though it was within a mile and a half of all the living sites that made up the Three Rocks community, several auxiliary sites were much closer and now considered themselves part of the North Holding of the Twenty-ninth Cave.
He explained that a well-used trail traversed easily up the hillside in two switchbacks to the middle level, which was the main living site of South Face. The upper small abri, which overlooked much of the large valley, was used as a lookout and was usually referred to as the South Face Overlook, or simply the Overlook. The lowest level was semisubterranean and used more for storage than everyday living. Among other food and supplies, the nuts collected at Summer Camp were kept there. Some of the other abris that were part of the South Face settlement complex had their own descriptive names, such as Long Rock, Deep Bank, and Good Spring, referring to the natural spring that welled up nearby.
“Even the storage area has a name,” he said. “It’s called Bare Rock. The old people tell the story that was told to them when they were young. It’s part of the Histories. It’s about a very hard winter and a cold, wet spring when they ran out of all their stored food—the lower rock storage area was Bare Rock. Then the last gasp of winter howled in with a driving blizzard. Everyone went hungry for a while. The only thing that saved them from starvation was a large cache of pine nuts stored by squirrels in the lower rock shelter that a young girl happened to find. It’s amazing how much those little nut chasers can pile up.
“But even when the weather cleared enough to hunt, the deer and horses they managed to kill had been starving, too,” Jondalar continued. “The meat was lean and tough, and it was a long time before the first greens and roots of spring. The next fall, the whole community gathered many more of the nuts from the stone pines as a hedge against future hard winters and hungry springs, and started the tradition of collecting them.”
The young people who had helped them keep the food dry while crossing rivers crowded in close so they could hear Jondalar as he talked about their closest neighbor to the north. They didn’t know that much about them, either, and listened with interest.
About a mile and a half away, and across The River, they could see the South Holding of the Twenty-ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, the largest and most unusual cliff in the region. Though north-facing sites were seldom utilized as living places, this one on the south side of The River was too inviting to be ignored. The cliff face, a half mile in length, rose vertically two hundred fifty feet from The River in five levels and held nearly a hundred caves and cavities, plus overhanging rock shelters and terraces.
Grand views of the valley could be seen from all the terraces, so a specific shelter or cave to use as a lookout was not needed. But the cliff did offer a different, unique view. In one section of a lower terrace that projected over a quiet backwater of the moving stream, it was possible to look down and see one’s reflection in the still water.
“It’s not named for its size, as you might think,” Jondalar said. “It’s named for that unusual view. It is called Reflection Rock.”
The cliff was so huge that most of the possible living sites were not even occupied—it would have been as crowded as a marmot mound if they had been. The natural resources of the surrounding area would not have supported so many people. They would have depleted whole herds and stripped the landscape of vegetation. But the huge cliff was an exceptional place, and those who lived there knew that the mere sight of their home left strangers and first-time visitors gaping with awe.
It could even dazzle those who were familiar with it, Jondalar realized as he looked at the extraordinary natural formation. The Ninth Cave, with its magnificent overhanging stone shelf sheltering a spacious and comfortable area, was certainly remarkable in its own right, and in most ways offered more livability—that it primarily faced south was a tremendous advantage—but he had to admit that the extensive and imposing cliff ahead was impressive.
But the people who were standing on the lowest-level terrace were feeling a touch of awe themselves at the sight that was approaching them. The welcoming gesture of the woman who was standing somewhat ahead of the others was more tentative than usual. She was holding her hand up with her palm facing her, but her beckoning motion was not very vigorous. She had heard of the return of Marthona’s wandering second son and the foreign woman he brought back. She had even heard that they had horses and a wolf with them, but hearing it was not the same as seeing it, and seeing two horses walking calmly amid the people of the Ninth Cave, behind a wolf—a big wolf—a tall, blond, unfamiliar woman and the man she knew as Jondalar was unnerving, at the very least.
Joharran looked aside to cover up a smile he couldn’t help making when he saw the woman’s expression, though he understood entirely how she felt. It wasn’t so long ago that he had experienced the same frisson of fear at the same uncanny sight. He was amazed, when he thought about it, how quickly he had gotten used to it. So quickly that he hadn’t anticipated the reaction of his neighbors, and he knew he should have. He was glad they had stopped. It gave him a hint of the effect they would very likely have on people when they reached the Summer Meeting.
