The woman turned to look at Ayla, surprised that the newcomer had spoken out, and even more that she had contradicted her so brazenly. “It is not your place to speak,” she said. “It is not your concern what we say at this meeting. You are a visitor here, not even Zelandonii.” She knew the foreign woman was supposed to become the mate of Jondalar, but she apparently needed to be corrected and to learn proper behavior.
“Forgive me, Zelandoni of the Fourteenth,” the One Who Was First interjected. “Ayla was introduced to the others, I should have introduced you to her when you first came. Actually, Ayla is Zelandonii. The Ninth Cave accepted her before we left.”
The woman turned toward the First, and her hostility was almost palpable. Ayla discerned that the animosity was of long standing, and she recalled something about a Zelandoni who had expected to be named First but was passed over in favor of Zelandoni of the Ninth. She guessed this was the one.
“Ayla and Jondalar tell us flatheads are people, not animals. I think it’s something we need to talk about, and I planned to bring it up,” Joharran said, stepping forward, trying to calm the situation. “But I don’t know if this is the best time, we have other things to discuss first.”
“I don’t know why we have to talk about them at all,” the woman retorted.
“I think it’s important, if only for our own safety,” Joharran said. “If they are intelligent people—and Ayla and Jondalar have nearly convinced me they are—and we have been treating them like animals, why haven’t they objected?”
“Probably because they are animals,” the woman said.
“Ayla says it’s because they choose to avoid us,” Joharran said, “and for the most part, we avoid them. But if we think of them only as animals, perhaps not hunting them, but claiming all the land as ours, as Zelandonii territory—hunting grounds, gathering fields, everything—what if they start resisting? And what should we do if they decide to change and start to claim some of it for themselves? I think we need to be prepared; at least we ought to talk about the possibility.”
“I think you are making too much of it, Joharran. If flatheads haven’t made claims to territory before, why should they start now?” Zelandoni of the Fourteenth said, dismissing the entire concept.
“But they do make claims to territory,” Jondalar said. “On the other side of the glacier, the Losadunai understand that the land north of the Mother River is flathead country. They stay south, except for some young ruffians who have been stirring up trouble, and I’m afraid the Clan won’t put up with it much longer, especially the younger ones.”
“What makes you say that?” Joharran said. “You never mentioned this before.”
“Shortly after we started out, when Thonolan and I got down off the other side of the glacier over the highland to the east, we met up with a band of flatheads—men of the Clan—probably a hunting party,” Jondalar said, “and had a small confrontation.”
“What kind of confrontation?” Joharran asked. Everyone else was paying close attention, too.
“A young one threw a stone at us, I think because we were on their side of the river, in their territory. Thonolan threw a spear back when he saw someone moving in the woods where they were hiding. Suddenly they all stepped forward and showed themselves. Two of us against several of them, the odds were not good. To tell you the truth, I don’t think the odds would be good one on one. They may be short, but they are powerful. I wasn’t at all sure how to get out of it, it was their leader who resolved it.”
“How could you tell they had a leader? And even if they did, how do you know they weren’t just a pack, like wolves?” another man asked. Jondalar thought he recognized him, but wasn’t sure. He had been gone five years, after all.
“Now I know for sure, I’ve met others since, but even then it was obvious. He told the youngster who had thrown the stone to return Thonolan’s spear and retrieve the stone, then they slipped back into the woods,” Jondalar said. “He put everything back the way it was, and thought that settled it. Since no one was hurt, I guess it did.”
“Told the youngster? Flatheads can’t talk!” the man said.
“In fact, they can,” Jondalar said. “They just don’t talk like we do. They use hand signs, mostly. I’ve learned some of them, and I’ve communicated with them, but Ayla is much better. She knows their language.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Zelandoni of the Fourteenth said.
Jondalar smiled. “I did at first, too,” he said. “I never saw one up close before that encounter. Have you?”
“No, I can’t say that I have, and I have no desire to,” the woman said. “I understand they rather resemble bears.”
“They don’t resemble bears, any more than we do. They look like people, a different kind of people, but there is no mistaking them. That hunting party was carrying spears and wearing clothes. Did you ever see bears do that?” Jondalar asked.
“So they are clever bears,” she said.
“Don’t underestimate them. They are not bears, or any other kind of animal. They are people, intelligent people,” Jondalar said.
“You said you communicated with them? When?” asked the man Jondalar couldn’t quite place.
“Once, when we were staying with the Sharamudoi, I got into trouble on the Great Mother River. The Sharamudoi live beside her, not too far from the end where she empties into Beran Sea. When you first get down off the glacier, the Mother is hardly a stream, but where they live she is huge, so wide in places, she almost looks like a lake. But though she can seem placid and smooth, she has a deceptively deep, swift, and strong current. By then so many other rivers, large and small, have flowed into her that when you see her from the home of the Sharamudoi, you know why she’s called the Great Mother River.” Jondalar was getting into Story-Telling mode, and people were listening with rapt attention.
“The Sharamudoi make excellent watercraft out of huge logs that are dug out and shaped to make a shell with pointed ends. I was practicing to control a small dugout boat using a paddle, when I lost control.” Jondalar made a deprecating smile that showed his chagrin. “To be honest, I was showing off a little. They usually keep a line—with one end attached to the boat—and a hook with bait ready all the time in their boats, and I wanted to prove to them that I could catch a fish. The trouble is, fish in a river that big match its size, especially sturgeon. The River Men don’t call it fishing when they go after the big ones; they say they are hunting sturgeon.”
“I once saw a salmon nearly as big as a man,” someone called out.
“Some sturgeon near the end of the Great Mother River are bigger than the length of three tall men,” Jondalar said. “When I noticed the fishing gear, I threw out a line, but I was not lucky. I caught one! Or rather, a big sturgeon caught me. Because the line was fastened to the boat, when that fish started swimming, he took me with him. I lost the paddles and had no control. I reached for my knife to cut the line, but the boat hit something and knocked it out of my hand. The fish was strong and fast. He tried to dive and almost swamped me a couple of times. All I could do was hang on while that sturgeon pulled me upriver.”
“What did you do?” “How far did you go?” “How did you stop it?” voices called out.
“It turned out that the hook did injure the fish and was causing it to bleed. It finally wore him out, but by then he had dragged me across a wide part of the river and quite a ways upstream. When he gave up the fight, we happened to be in the arm of a little backwater shoal. I got out and swam to land, grateful to feel something solid under my feet.…”
“It’s a good story, Jondalar, but what does it have to do with flatheads?” Zelandoni of the Fourteenth said.
He smiled at her, giving her all his attention. “I was just getting to that part. I was on land, but I was soaked and shivering with cold. I didn’t have a knife to cut wood, I didn’t have anything to make fire, most of the wood on the ground was wet, and I was really getting chilled. Suddenly, standing in front of me was this flathead. He had just the start of a beard, so he couldn’t have been very old. He beckoned me to follow him, though I wasn’t sure what he meant at first. Then I noticed smoke in the direction he was going, so I followed him and he led me to a fire,” Jondalar said.
“Weren’t you afraid to go with him? You didn’t know what he might do,” another voice called out. More people were joining them, Jondalar noticed. Ayla had been aware of the gathering crowd, too.
“By then, I was so cold, I didn’t care. All I wanted was that fire. I squatted down, getting as close as I could to it, then I felt a fur being laid across my shoulders. I looked up and saw a woman. When she saw me, she ducked behind a bush and hid, and though I tried, I couldn’t see her. From the glimpse I got of her, I think she was older, maybe the young man’s mother.
“When I finally warmed up,” Jondalar continued, “he led me back to the boat and the fish, belly up near the bank. It wasn’t the biggest sturgeon I ever saw, but it wasn’t small, at least the length of two men. The young Clan man took out a knife and cut that fish in half, lengthwise. He made some motions to me, which I didn’t understand at the time, then wrapped up half that fish in a hide, flung it over his shoulder, and carried it off. Just about then, Thonolan and some River Men came paddling upstream and found me. They had seen me being pulled upriver and came looking for me. When I told them about the young flathead, just like you, Zelandoni of the Fourteenth, they didn’t want to believe me, but then they saw the half fish that was left. Those men never stopped teasing me about going fishing and getting only half a fish, but it took three of them to drag the other half fish into the boat, and that young flathead picked it up and carried it away alone.”
“Well, that’s a good fish story, Jondalar,” Zelandoni of the Fourteenth said.
Jondalar looked at her directly, with the full intensity of his amazing blue eyes. “I know it sounds like a fish story, but I promise you it is true. Every word,” he said with earnest sincerity, then he shrugged and smiled, adding, “but I can’t blame you for doubting.
“I got a bad cold after that dunking,” he continued, “and while I was in bed staying warm by a fire, I had time to think about flatheads. That young man probably saved my life. At least he knew I was cold and needed warmth. He may have been just as afraid of me as I was of him, but he gave me what I needed and, in exchange, took half my fish. The first time I saw flatheads, I was surprised that they carried spears and wore clothes. After meeting that young man, and his mother, I knew they used fire and had sharp knives—and were very strong—but more than that, he was smart. He understood I was cold and he helped me, and for that, he thought he had a right to a share of my catch. I would have given him the whole thing, and I think he could have hauled it off, too, but he didn’t take it all, he shared it.”
“That is interesting,” the woman said, smiling at Jondalar.
The unintentional charm and charisma of the decidedly handsome man was beginning to make an impression on the older woman, which was not lost on the One Who Was First. She would remember it for the future. If she could use Jondalar to ease her relationship with Zelandoni of the Fourteenth, she wouldn’t hesitate. The woman had been like a canebrake of sharp thorns ever since she was selected to be First, impeding every decision and obstructing every policy she tried to make.
“I could tell you about the boy of mixed spirits that was adopted by the mate of the Mamutoi headman of the Lion Camp, because that was when I learned some of their signs,” Jondalar continued, “but I think telling about the man and woman we met just before we started back across the glacier would be more significant, because they live close …”
“I think you should wait with that story, Jondalar,” said Marthona, who had joined them. “It should be told to more people, and this meeting is to make decisions about the Matrimonial that is, if no one objects,” she added, looking directly at Zelandoni of the Fourteenth Cave and smiling sweetly. She, too, had seen the effect her captivating son had on the older woman, and she was more than aware of the problems the Fourteenth had given the First. She had been a leader herself and understood.
“Unless you are really interested in hearing all the discussion and details,” Joharran said to Jondalar and Ayla, “this might be a good time to look for a place to demonstrate your spear-thrower. I’d like you to do it before the first hunt.”
Ayla wouldn’t have minded staying. She wanted to learn as much as she could about Jondalar’s—and now her—people, but he was eager to follow up on the suggestion. He wanted to share his new hunting weapon with all the Zelandonii. They explored the campsite of the Summer Meeting, Jondalar greeting friends and introducing Ayla. They found themselves the object of attention because of Wolf, but they expected it. Ayla wanted to get the initial disturbance over with as soon as possible. The sooner people started getting used to seeing the animals, the sooner they would begin to take them for granted.
They decided on an area that they thought would work for the spear-thrower demonstration, then they saw one of the young men who had helped hold up the travois when they crossed rivers to keep the goods they were transporting dry. He was from Three Rocks, the West Holding of the Twenty-ninth Cave, also known as Summer Camp, and had traveled with them the rest of the way. They chatted a while, then his mother came along and invited them to have a meal with them. The sun was already high, and they hadn’t eaten since early in the day, and gratefully accepted. Even Wolf was given a bone with some meat on it. They were extended a special invitation to help with the pine-nut harvest in the fall.
On their way back to their camp, they passed by the large lodge of the zelandonia. The First was just coming out and stopped to tell them that all the people who were involved with the First Matrimonial that she had spoken with so far were willing to delay the ceremony until the arrival of Dalanar and the Lanzadonii. They were introduced to several of the other zelandonia, and the people from the Ninth Cave observed with interest their various reactions to the wolf.
By the time they started back to the camp of the Ninth Cave, the sun was dropping over the horizon in a blaze of gold coruscating in resplendent beams through red clouds. When they reached the bank of The River, flowing smoothly with hardly a ripple at that point, they continued upstream until they crossed the small creek that joined it. They stopped for a moment to watch the evening sky transform itself in a show of dazzling radiance as gold transmuted into shades of vermilion that waned into shimmering purple, then darkened to deep blue as the first glittering sky fires appeared. Soon the sooty black night became a backdrop to the multitude of blazing lights that filled the summer sky, with a concentrated accumulation wending its way like a path across the vault above. Ayla recalled the line from the Mother’s Song, “The Mother’s hot milk laid a path through the sky.” Is that how it was made? she wondered as they turned toward the welcoming fires of their nearby camp.
When Ayla awoke the next morning, everyone else seemed to be up and gone already and she was feeling uncharacteristically lazy. Her eyes were accustomed to the dim light inside the dwelling, and she lay in her sleeping roll, looking at the designs carved and painted on the sturdy wooden center pole and the smudges of soot that already blackened the edges of the smoke hole, until she had to pass water—she felt the need even more often lately. She didn’t know where the community waste trenches had been dug, so she used the night basket. She wasn’t the only one who had used it, she noticed. I’ll empty it later, she thought. It was one of the unpleasant chores that were shared by those who felt it was a duty and those who were shamed into it if it was noticed that they hadn’t recently.
When she walked back to her sleeping roll to shake it out, she looked more closely around the inside of the summer camp shelter. She had been surprised at the structures that had been made while she and Jondalar were visiting the day before. Though she had noticed the lodges of the people who had set up their camps near the main area, she was still expecting to see the traveling tents, but most people did not use the tents they had traveled with at the Summer Meeting camp. During the warm season, the traveling tents would be used by various people for temporary treks to hunt, or gather produce, or visit as they ranged over their territory. The summer lodge was a more permanent structure, a circular, straight-sided, rather substantial dwelling. Though made differently, Ayla understood they were similar in purpose to the lodges used by the Mamutoi during their Summer Meetings.
Though it was dark inside—the only light came from the open entrance and an occasional sliver of sunlight that found its way through cracks in the wall where pieces joined—Ayla saw that, besides the center pole of pine, the dwelling had an interior wall of panels woven out of flattened bullrush stems and painted with designs and animals. They were attached to the inside of poles that encircled the center pole and provided a fairly large enclosed space that could be left open or divided into smaller areas with movable interior panels. The ground was covered with mats, which were made of bullrushes, tall phragmite reeds, cattail leaves, or grasses, and sleeping rolls were spread out around a slightly off-center fireplace. The smoke escaped through a hole above it, near the center pole. A smoke hole cover could be adjusted from the inside with short poles that were attached to it.
She was curious about how the rest of the structure was made and stepped outside. First she glanced around the camp, which was composed of several large circular lodges surrounding a central fireplace, and then she walked around the outside of the dwelling. Poles were lashed together in a way that was similar to the fence of the surround that was erected to capture animals, but instead of the freestanding flexible construction that could yield when an animal bumped or butted into it, the summer lodge fencing was attached to widely spaced anchoring poles of alder that were sunk into the ground.
A wall of sturdy vertical panels made of overlapped cattail leaves, which shed rain, was attached to the outside of the poles, leaving an air space between the outer and inner walls for extra insulation to make it cooler on hot days and, with a fire inside, warmer on cool nights. It also avoided accumulation of moisture condensation on the inside when it was cold out. The roof was a fairly thick thatch of overlapping reeds that sloped down from the center pole. The thatch was not particularly well made, but it kept the rain out and was required only for a season.
Parts of the lodge were brought with them, in particular the woven mats, panels, interior walls, and some of the poles. Generally, each person who was sharing a dwelling carried some sections or pieces, but much of the material was gathered fresh from the surrounding area each year. When they returned home in the fall, the structures were partially dismantled to retrieve the reusable parts but left standing. They seldom lasted through the heavy snows and winds of winter, and by the following summer, there were only collapsed ruins, which disintegrated back into the environment before the same location was used again for a Summer Meeting.
Ayla remembered that the Mamutoi had different names for their summer camps than they did for their winter dwellings. The Lion Camp, for example, was the Cattail Camp at the Summer Meeting, but the same people who lived at Lion Camp lived there. She asked Jondalar if the Ninth Cave had a different summer name. He explained that their location was just called the camp of the Ninth Cave, but living arrangements at Zelandonii Summer Meetings were not quite the same as they were in winter in the shelters of stone.
Each summer dwelling accommodated more people than usually shared the roomier, more permanent structures under the large overhang of the Ninth Cave. As a rule, family members, including those who had separate dwellings in winter, shared a lodge, but some people didn’t even stay at the same camp. Instead, it was not uncommon for some to spend the summer with other relatives or friends. For example, young matrons who had moved to their mates’ Caves often liked to take their children and spend the summer with their mothers, siblings, or childhood friends, and their mates usually accompanied them.
In addition, young women who would be having their First Rites that year lived together in a separate dwelling near the large central dwelling of the zelandonia, at least for the first part of the summer. Another dwelling nearby was set up for the women who chose to be donii-women that year, to be available for the young men who were approaching puberty.
Most young men who were past puberty—and some men not so young—often chose to band together separately away from their home camps and set up lodges of their own. They were required to be on the periphery of the camp, as far away as possible from the very desirable young women who were being prepared for First Rites. For the most part the men didn’t mind. They would have liked to ogle the women, but they rather liked the privacy of being off by themselves, so no one could complain if they were a little loud or rowdy. As a consequence, the men’s dwellings were called “the far lodges,” usually shortened to fa’lodges. The men who stayed in a fa’lodge were usually unmated or between mates—or wished they were.
Since he didn’t rush to greet her when she went out, Ayla assumed that Wolf was with Jondalar. There were not many people outside, most were probably somewhere around the central area, the main focus of the Summer Meeting, but she found some leftover tea near the camp’s fireplace. She noticed that the fireplace was not shaped like a big round bonfire, but more like a trench. She had seen the evening before that more people could get closer to a fire if it was extended and longer logs and branches, cut down or deadfall, could be used without having to hack them into smaller pieces. While she was drinking the tea, Salova, Rushemar’s mate, came out of her lodge, holding her baby daughter.
“Greetings, Ayla,” she said, putting her baby down on a mat.
“Greetings, Salova,” Ayla said, coming closer to see the baby. She held out a finger for the infant to grab and smiled at her.
Salova looked at Ayla, hesitated, then asked, “Would you mind watching Marsola for a while? I gathered some materials to make baskets and have some of them soaking in the creek. I’d like to get them and sort them out. I promised some people I would make baskets for them.”
“I’d love to watch Marsola,” Ayla said, smiling at her, then turned back to the baby.
Salova was a little anxious around the foreign woman and kept up a nervous chatter. “I just fed her, so she shouldn’t be any trouble. I’ve got plenty of milk. Giving a little to Lorala isn’t any trouble at all. Lanoga brought her around last night. She’s getting nice and plump, and smiles now. She didn’t used to smile at all. Oh, you haven’t eaten yet, have you? I have some soup left over from last night with some good pieces of deer meat in it. You are welcome to it, if you want. It’s what I ate this morning, it’s probably still warm.”
“Thank you. I think I will have a little soup,” Ayla said.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, then hurried away.
Ayla found the soup in a large aurochs stomach container that had been mounted on a wood frame and placed over some hot coals at the edge of the long community fireplace to simmer—the coals had almost died, but the soup was still hot. A stack of odd bowls was nearby, some tightly woven, some carved out of wood, a couple of shallow ones shaped out of some large bone. A few used bowls were scattered around where people had left them. Ayla scooped out some soup with a ladle made of a curved sheep horn, then took out her eating knife. She saw that there were vegetables in it, too, though they were rather soft by now.
She sat on the mat beside the baby, who was lying on her back, kicking her feet into the air. Some deer dewclaws had been tied to one ankle, and they rattled whenever she kicked up her feet. Ayla finished her soup, then picked up the baby and, supporting her head with her hands, held her so that she was looking at her. When Salova came back with a wide, flat basket full of various fibrous vegetation, she saw Ayla talking to her baby and making her smile. It warmed the young mother’s heart and made her feel more relaxed around the stranger.
“I really appreciate your watching her, Ayla. It gave me a chance to get this ready,” Salova said.
“It was my pleasure, Salova. Marsola is a wonderful baby.”
“Did you know that Proleva’s younger sister, Levela, is getting mated at the First Matrimonial, just like you? You always feel a special tie to the people who mate at the same Matrimonial as you,” Salova said. “Proleva wanted me to make some special baskets for her, as part of her Matrimonial gift.”
“Would you mind if I watched you for a little while? I’ve made baskets, but I’d like to know how you make them,” Ayla said.
“I don’t mind at all. I’d like the company, and maybe you can show me how you do it. I always like to learn new ways,” Salova said.
The two young women sat together, talking and comparing basket-making techniques, while the baby slept beside them. Ayla liked the way Salova used materials of different colors and actually wove pictures of animals and various designs into her containers. Salova thought Ayla’s subtle techniques that created different textures gave a rich elegance to her seemingly simple baskets. Each gained an appreciation for the other’s skill, and for each other.
After a while Ayla got up. “I’m going to have to use the trenches, can you tell me where they are? I should empty the night basket, too. And I might as well wash these bowls,” she added, picking up the used ones that were scattered around. “And then I should go check on the horses.”
“The trenches are over there,” Salova said, pointing in a direction away from the creek and the camp, “and we’ve been washing the cooking and eating things at the end of the creek, where it empties into The River. There’s some clean sand for scouring nearby. I don’t have to tell you where the horses are.” She smiled then. “I went to look at the horses yesterday with Rushemar. They made me nervous at first, but they seem gentle, and content. The mare ate some grass out of my hand.” Her smile turned to a grin and then to a worried frown. “I hope that was all right. Rushemar said Jondalar told him it would be.”
“Of course it’s all right. It makes them more comfortable if they get to know the people around them,” Ayla said.
She’s not so strange, Salova thought as she watched Ayla go. She talks a little funny, but she’s really nice. I wonder what ever made her think that she could make those animals do what she wanted them to? I never even imagined that one day I would feed a horse some grass out of my own hand.
After cleaning up the bowls and stacking them near the fire trench, Ayla thought it might be nice to clean herself up and go for a swim. She went back to their lodge, smiled at Salova and the baby, and slipped inside. She took the soft drying hide out of her traveling pack and then looked over her clothing. She didn’t have much, but it was more than she came with. Though she had cleaned them, she did not want to wear the worn and stained clothes she had worn on her long Journey except as working clothes.
The clothes she had worn on the recent trek to the Summer Meeting were the ones she had saved to wear when she met Jondalar’s people, but even they were well-worn and had their share of stains. She also had the boys’ winter underwear that Marona and her friends had given her, but she knew that wouldn’t be appropriate. Of course, she had her Matrimonial outfit, but that would be saved, as would the beautiful outfit that Marthona had given to her, for special occasions. What was left were a few things of theirs that Marthona and Folara had given her. They were unfamiliar to her, but she thought they might be suitable.
Before she left the lodge, she noticed her riding blanket folded up near her sleeping roll and decided to take it as well. Then she went to see the horses. Whinney and Racer were both glad to see her and crowded close to get her attention. Both wore halters with a long lead attached to a sturdy tree; she removed them and put them in her pack, then she tied the riding blanket on Whinney, mounted her, and started upstream.
The horses were in high spirits and broke out at a fast run, happy for the freedom. Their feeling was communicated to Ayla, who let them set their own pace. She was particularly pleased when she reached the meadow near the pool to see Wolf racing toward them. That had to mean Jondalar was nearby.
Sometime after Ayla left, Joharran came to the camp and asked Salova if she had seen Ayla.
“Yes, we were making baskets together,” she said. “The last time I saw her, she was heading toward the horses. She said she needed to check on them.”
“I’ll go look for her, but if you see her, will you tell her Zelandoni wants to talk to her?”
“Of course,” Salova said, wondering what the donier wanted. Then she shrugged. No one was likely to tell her what the First wanted.
Ayla saw Jondalar step out from behind some brush with a surprised grin on his face. She pulled to a stop, slid down, and raced into his arms.
“What are you doing here?” he asked after their warm embrace. “I didn’t even tell anybody I was coming here. I was just walking upstream, and when I got this far, I remembered that scree slope behind the pool, and thought I’d check to see if there was any flint.”
“Is there?”
“Yes, not the best quality, but serviceable. What made you decide to come here?”
“I woke up feeling lazy. Hardly anyone was around, except Salova and her baby. She asked me to watch Marsola when she went to get her materials to make baskets. She’s such a wonderful baby, Jondalar. We talked for a while and did some basket-weaving, then I decided to come for a swim and take the horses for a run. And found you. What a nice surprise,” she said, smiling.
“A nice surprise for me, too. Maybe I’ll take a swim with you. I’m pretty dusty from hauling rocks around, but first I should get the stones I’ve found and bring them here. Then, we’ll see,” he said with an inviting grin. He gave her a slow, lingering kiss. “Maybe I can worry about those rocks later.”
“Go ahead and get them, so you won’t have to clean the dust off twice. I wanted to wash my hair, anyway. It was a long, sweaty trek getting here,” Ayla said.
When Joharran reached the place where the horses had been, it was obvious they were gone. They’ve probably gone for one of their long rides, he thought, and Zelandoni really wanted to see Ayla. Willamar wanted to talk to them, too. Jondalar knows they’ll have plenty of time to themselves after the Matrimonial, you’d think he would realize that there are important issues to settle at the beginning of a Summer Meeting, Joharran thought, a little irritated that he couldn’t find them. He had not been all that pleased that he was the one the donier happened to see when she was looking for someone to send for them. After all, he had more important things to do than chase after his brother, but he didn’t feel he could exactly refuse Zelandoni, at least not without a very good excuse.
He glanced down and saw the fresh tracks of the horses. He was too experienced a tracker not to notice the direction they had taken, and he knew they had not headed off away from camp. It looked as if they were following the creek upstream. He recalled the pleasing little glen at the head of the small waterway, with the spring-fed pond and the grassy meadow. That’s probably where they went, he thought, smiling to himself. Since he had been sent on a mission to find them, he didn’t like returning without them.
He followed the creek, checking the tracks as he went to make sure they hadn’t veered off, and when he saw the horses ahead, grazing contentedly, he knew he’d found them. When he reached the screen of hazelnut shrubs, some as tall as trees, he peered through and, seeing only Ayla, wondered where his brother was. When he reached the sandy bank, she was just ducking under the water, and he called to her when she came up for air.
“Ayla, I’ve been looking for you.”
Ayla pushed back her hair and rubbed her eyes. “Oh, Joharran, it’s you,” she said in a tone of voice he couldn’t quite identify.
“Do you know where Jondalar is?”
“Yes, he was looking for flint in the rock pile behind the pond, and went to get the stones he found. Then he was going to come and bathe with me,” Ayla said, seeming a little disconcerted.
“Zelandoni wants to see you, and Willamar wanted to talk to you both,” Joharran said.
“Oh,” she said, sounding rather disappointed.
Joharran had often seen women without clothes on. Most of them bathed in The River every morning in the summer and washed themselves in winter. Nakedness by itself was not considered especially suggestive. Women wore special clothing or accoutrements that were meant to be inviting when they wanted to show interest in a man, or behaved in certain ways, especially at a festival to honor the Mother. But as Ayla started out of the water, it occurred to him that she and his brother had had other plans, which he’d interrupted. The thought made him aware of her body as she approached him, walking out of the water.
She was tall, with shapely curves and well-defined muscles. Her large breasts still had the firmness of a young woman, and he’d always found a woman with a slightly rounded stomach appealing. Marona has always been considered the Beauty of the Bunch, he thought, no wonder she took such a dislike to Ayla from the beginning. She looked good in that winter underwear she got tricked into wearing, but that was nothing compared to really seeing her. Marona doesn’t compare. My brother is a lucky man, he thought. Ayla is a fine-looking woman. But she is going to get a lot of attention at Mother Festivals, and I’m not sure how Jondalar will like that.
Ayla was looking at him with a puzzled expression, and it made Joharran realize that he’d been staring. He flushed slightly and looked away, and saw his brother coming, carrying a heavy load of stones. He went to help him.
“What are you doing here?” Jondalar said.
“Zelandoni wants to talk to Ayla, and Willamar would like to talk to both of you,” Joharran said.
“What does Zelandoni want? Can’t it wait?” Jondalar said.
“She didn’t seem to think so. Chasing down my brother and his Promised is not the way I planned to spend the day, either. Don’t worry, Jondalar,” Joharran said with a conspiratorial grin. “You’ll just have to wait a while. And she’s worth waiting for, isn’t she?”
Jondalar started to make protests and denials of his innuendos, then he relaxed and smiled. “I waited a long time to find her,” he said. “Well, now that you’re here, you can help me carry these stones back. I did want to take a swim and clean up a little.”
“Why don’t you leave the stones here for now. They won’t go away, then you’ll have an excuse to come back later,” Joharran said, “and I’m sure you’ll have time for a swim … if that’s all you do.”
It was near midday by the time Ayla and Jondalar, and Wolf, found their way to the main camp area, and from their air of relaxed contentment, Joharran suspected they had found time for more than a quick swim after he left. He’d told Zelandoni he had found them and passed on her message, and he had encouraged his brother to hurry. It wasn’t his fault if Jondalar dallied, not that he could blame him.
Several people from the Ninth Cave had gathered around the long cooking hearth near the zelandonia lodge, and just as Ayla was approaching the entrance to let the donier know she was there, the large woman who was First came out, followed by several others with the distinctive tattoos on their foreheads of Those Who Served The Mother.
“There you are, Ayla,” Zelandoni said when she saw her. “I’ve been expecting you all morning.”
“We were upstream from the camp when Joharran found us. There is a nice spring-fed pond there. I wanted to give the horses a run and brush their coats. They get nervous around so many people until they get used to them, and brushing calms them, and I wanted to take a swim and clean up after the trek here,” Ayla said. Everything she said was entirely true, though it may not have included all of her activities.
The donier regarded her, clean and dressed in the Zelandonii clothing that Marthona had given to her; then she saw Jondalar, also looking fresh and clean, and raised her eyebrows in a knowing look. Joharran was watching the One Who Was First and the woman his brother had brought home with him and realized that Zelandoni had a pretty good idea what had delayed them, and that Ayla didn’t seem to care that she hadn’t rushed. The large woman had an authoritative bearing and he knew she intimidated many, but she didn’t seem to daunt the stranger.
“We were just stopping for a meal,” Zelandoni said, walking toward the large cooking hearth, compelling Ayla to fall in beside her. “Proleva has organized the preparation and just informed us it was ready. You might as well join us. It will give me a chance to talk to you. Do you have one of your firestones?”
“Yes. I always keep a fire-making kit with me,” Ayla said.
“I would like you to demonstrate your new fire-making technique to the zelandonia. I think it should be introduced to the people, but it is important that it be shown in the right way, with appropriate ritual.”
“I didn’t need a ritual to show it to Marthona, or you. It’s not that difficult once you see how it’s done,” Ayla said.
“No, it’s not difficult, but it is a new and powerful technique, and that can be disturbing, especially for those people who don’t accept change easily and resist it,” the donier said. “You must know people like that.”
Ayla thought of the Clan, with their lives based on tradition, their reluctance to change, and their inability to cope with new ideas. “Yes, I know people like that,” she said. “But the people I’ve met recently seem to enjoy learning new things.”
All the Others she had met seemed to adapt so easily to changes in their lives, to thrive on innovation. She hadn’t realized that there might be some who were not comfortable with a different way of doing things, who actually resisted it. It gave her a sudden insight, and she frowned at the thought. That could explain certain attitudes and incidents that had puzzled her, such as why some people seemed so unwilling to accept the idea that the Clan were people. Like that Zelandoni, the one from the Fourteenth Cave, who kept calling them animals. Even after Jondalar explained, she acted as if she didn’t believe him. I think she didn’t want to change her opinion.
“It is true. Most people do like to learn a better or quicker way of doing something, but sometimes it depends upon how it is presented,” the First said. “For example, Jondalar has been away for a long time. He matured while he was gone and learned many new things, but the people he knows weren’t there to see it, so some of them still think of him the way he was when he left. Now he has returned and he’s eager to share what he’s learned and discovered, which is commendable, but he didn’t learn everything all at once. Even his new weapon, which is a valuable tool for hunting, takes practice to use. Those who have been successful and are comfortable with the weapons they know may not be willing to put forth the effort it will take to learn the new one, though I have no doubt it will be used by all hunters one day.”
“Yes, the spear-thrower does take practice,” Ayla said. “We know it now, but in the beginning, we worked at it.”
“And that is only one thing,” the donier continued, while she picked up a plate made from the shoulder bone of a deer and put some slices of meat on it. “What kind of meat is it?” she asked a woman who was standing nearby.
“That’s mammoth. Some hunters from the Nineteenth Cave went north on a hunting trek and got a mammoth. They decided to share some. I understand they got a woolly rhinoceros, too.”
“I haven’t had mammoth for a long time,” Zelandoni said. “I’m going to relish this.”
“Have you tasted mammoth?” the woman asked Ayla.
“Yes,” she said. “The Mamutoi, the people I lived with before, are known as mammoth hunters, although they hunted other animals, too. But it’s been some time since I’ve had any. I, too, will enjoy this.”
Zelandoni thought about introducing Ayla to the woman, but once she started, there would be no end, and she still wanted to talk to her about a ceremony using the firestone. She turned back to Ayla while she added some round white roots, ground nuts, to her plate, and cooked greens, nettles, she thought, mixed with pieces of brown-capped, spongy, boletus mushroom.
“Jondalar also brought you, and your animals, Ayla. You must know how astonishing that is. People have hunted horses, and observed them with other horses, but they have never seen horses behave as yours do. It is frightening, at first, to see those horses go where you want them to, or that this wolf will walk through a camp full of people and do what you tell him,” she said, specifically acknowledging Wolf for the first time, though she had certainly seen him. He yipped a small bark when she looked at him.
It was a custom the wolf and the woman had developed that rather surprised Ayla. Zelandoni didn’t always acknowledge Wolf when she saw him, and he ignored her until she did, but when she did, he responded with a short yip. She seldom touched him, except for a pat on the head now and then, but on rare occasions, Wolf would take her hand in his teeth, never leaving any toothmarks. She always allowed it, saying only that they understood each other. It seemed to Ayla that they did, in their own way.
“I know you say that anyone could do it, if one starts with a young animal, and that may be true, but people don’t know that. They can only see it as something not natural to this world, so it must come from another world, from the spirit world. I am frankly amazed at how well they have accepted the animals, but it is an uneasy acceptance. It will take time. And now we want to show them something else you have brought that no one has seen before. People don’t know you yet, Ayla. I’m sure people will want to use the firestone, once they’ve seen how it works, but they may be afraid of it. I think it has to be seen as a Gift from the Mother, which can be done if it is first understood and accepted by the zelandonia, and presented with the proper ritual,” the donier said.
The way she explained it seemed entirely logical, but in a quiet space in her own mind, it made Ayla realize how persuasive Zelandoni could be. “When you explain it like that, I understand,” Ayla said. “Of course I will show the zelandonia how the firestone works, and help you with whatever ritual you feel is necessary.”
They joined Jondalar’s family and some of the people from the Ninth Cave who were sitting with a few people from other Caves. After the meal, Zelandoni took Ayla aside. “Can you leave the wolf outside the lodge for a while? I think it’s important to concentrate on the fire-making, and I’m afraid Wolf would be a distraction,” she said.
“I’m sure Jondalar won’t mind keeping him,” Ayla said, turning to look at him. He nodded, and when she got up to leave, she told Wolf to stay with him, making hand signs as well, though they were not noticed by most people. The midday sun had been bright, which made the inside of the zelandonia lodge seem dark even though many lamps were lit. Her eyes adjusted quickly, but when the First stood up to begin speaking, the Zelandoni of the Fourteenth Cave objected.
“Why is she here?” the Fourteenth said. “She may be a Zelandonii woman, but she is not zelandonia. She is an outsider and does not belong at this meeting.”