The One Who Was First Among Those Who Served The Mother repressed a sigh of frustration. She was not going to make any obvious display of her irritation and let the tall, thin Zelandoni of the Fourteenth Cave have the satisfaction of knowing how much she annoyed her. But the question brought frowns and disapproving looks from some of the other Zelandonia, and a smirk from the acolyte of the Fifth Cave with the missing front teeth.
“You are right, Zelandoni of the Fourteenth,” the First said. “Outsiders, those who are not part of the zelandonia, are not usually invited to these meetings. This is a gathering of those who have had some experience with the world of the spirits, the ones who have been called and the acolytes, who have shown promise and are in training. That’s why I have invited Ayla. You know that she is a healer. She was a great help to Shevonar, the man who was trampled when that bison bolted during the last community hunt,” the donier said.
“Shevonar died, and I don’t know how much help she was, I didn’t examine him,” the Fourteenth said. “There are many who have some knowledge of certain medicinals. Almost everyone knows about willow bark and its ability to stop the pain of minor aches, for example.”
“I assure you that she knows a great deal more than the uses of willow bark,” the One Who Was First said. “One of her names and ties from her previous people is Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth. The Mammoth Hearth of the Mamutoi is the same as the zelandonia, they are Those Who Serve The Mother.”
“Are you saying she’s a Zelandoni of the Mamutoi? Where is her tattoo?” The question was asked by an elderly woman with white hair and intelligent eyes.
“Her tattoo, Zelandoni of the Nineteenth?” the large woman asked, and thought, what did the Nineteenth know that she didn’t? She was an experienced and reliable Zelandoni, who had learned a great deal in her long life. It was a shame she’d been having so much trouble with arthritis during the past years. The time was drawing near when she would not be able to walk to the Summer Meetings. If this meeting were not near the Nineteenth Cave, she might not have made it this year.
“I know of the Mamutoi. Jerika of the Lanzadonii lived with them for a while when she was young and still traveling with her mother and the man of her hearth on their long journey. One summer, many years ago, when she was pregnant with Joplaya, she was having some trouble and I attended her. She told me about the Mamutoi. Their doniers are also marked with tattoos on their faces, though not quite like ours, but if Ayla is the same as a Zelandoni, where is her tattoo?”
“She was in training, but not fully trained when she left to come here with Jondalar. She is not the same as a Zelandoni, she is more like an acolyte, but with more knowledge of healing than most. In addition she was adopted to the Mammoth Hearth by the Mamut Who Was First, because he saw her potential,” the First said.
“Are you sponsoring her to become an acolyte of the zelandonia?” the Nineteenth asked. Though they seldom spoke out, there were a few quiet murmurs from the acolytes in attendance.
“Not at this time. I haven’t yet asked her if she wants to further her training,” the First said.
Ayla felt a touch of consternation. Though she would not mind talking about healing with some of them, she had no desire to become a Zelandoni. She just wanted to mate with Jondalar and have children, and she noticed that few of the zelandonia had mates or children. It wasn’t that they couldn’t mate if they chose, but it seemed that there were so many other demands on their time and attention when they were in the service of the Great Earth Mother that they didn’t have time to be mothers themselves.
“Then why is she here?” the Fourteenth asked. Her wispy gray hair had pulled loose from the small bun on the back of her head, more on one side than the other, giving her a careless, disheveled appearance. If someone were kind, they would tactfully suggest that she fix her hair before she went out, but the First wouldn’t dream of it. The contentious Zelandoni would take anything she said as criticism.
“I asked her to come because I would like her to show you something that I think you will find very interesting.”
“Is it about those animals she controls?” asked another donier.
The First smiled. At least someone was willing to admit that Ayla had some unusual skills that might be worthy of the zelandonia. “No, Zelandoni of the South Holding of the Twenty-ninth Cave. That might be cause for another meeting, but this time, she has something else for you to see.” Though the South Holding Twenty-ninth was an assistant to the primary Zelandoni of the Twenty-ninth, it was only in terms of speaking for all of Three Rocks. He was a full-fledged Zelandoni in his own right, and the First knew him to be a good healer. He had the same right to speak out as any other donier.
Ayla noticed that the One Who Was First addressed the members of the zelandonia by their full titles, which were sometimes quite long, since they included the counting words of their Caves, but sounded very formal and important. Then it occurred to her that the only way to differentiate among them was by the counting words. They had given up their personal names and were all “Zelandoni.” They had, she realized, exchanged their names for counting words.
When she lived in her valley, she had scratched a mark on a stick every day she was there. By the time Jondalar arrived, she had a bundle of sticks full of marks. When he used the counting words to tally the cut marks and was then able to tell her how long she had lived in her valley, it had seemed to her magic that was so powerful, it was almost frightening. When he taught them to her, she had sensed that counting words were very important and highly valued by the Zelandonii. Now she realized that, at least among Those Who Served The Mother, they were more important than names, and their use by the zelandonia gave them the essence of those powerful symbols.
The First beckoned to Jonokol. “First Acolyte of the Ninth Cave, will you use the sand I asked you to get and put out the fire? And First Acolyte of the Second Cave, will you put out all the lamps?”
Ayla recognized the two acolytes the First had called upon for assistance. They had guided her when she visited the deep cave with the animals painted on the walls at Fountain Rocks. She heard comments and questions of curiosity from the assembled group who knew the First was setting them up for something dramatic. Most of the older, experienced ones were preparing themselves to be critical. They knew and understood the techniques and impact of dramatic presentations and were determined not to be easily deluded by tricks or misdirection.
When all the fires had been put out, there was still enough light to see from the occasional beams of sunlight that filtered in here and there. The lodge was not completely dark. Ayla looked around and noticed light seeping in, particularly around the outline of the entrance, though it was closed, and around another less obvious access almost directly opposite it. Later, she thought, she might walk around the outside of the spacious zelandonia lodge to find out if she could see the second opening.
The First knew the demonstration would be much more impressive at night when the dark was total, but that didn’t matter with the ones who were here. They would understand the possibilities immediately. “Would anyone like to come here and verify that the fire in this fireplace is completely out?” she said.
The Fourteenth quickly volunteered. She patted the sand carefully and dug her fingers in at a few warm spots, then stood up to announce, “The sand is dry, warm in a few places, but the fire is out and there are no hot coals.”
“Ayla, will you tell me what you need to start a fire?” the First said.
“I have most of it here,” she said, taking out the fire-starting kit that she had used so often on her Journey, “but tinder is necessary; almost anything that catches fire quickly will work, fireweed fuzz, or rotted wood from an old stump, if it’s dry and especially if it’s pitchy, for example. Then it’s good to have some small kindling close by, and of course some larger pieces of wood.”
There was a little buzz of noise, and the First picked up some words of irritation. They didn’t need a lesson in fire-making, they were saying. Everyone knew how to make a fire from the time they were small children. Good, she thought, feeling rather pleased. Let them grumble. They only think they know all there is to making fire.
“Will you make a fire for us, Ayla?” the Zelandoni leader said.
Ayla had fluffed up a small mound of fuzzy fireweed tops as tinder and had a piece of iron pyrite in her left hand and a flint striker in her right, but it wasn’t obvious. She struck the firestone, saw a good spark land in the fluff of fireweed, blew it into life, and added kindling. In less time than it took to explain it, she had a fire going.
There were some involuntary oohs and “How did she do that?” comments, then the Zelandoni of the Third Cave said, “Can you do it again?”
Ayla smiled at the Third. The older man had been so kind and supportive when she was trying to help Shevonar, she was pleased to see him. She moved over to another spot nearby and lit another fire beside the first one within the circle of stones that defined the fireplace, and then, without being asked, she lit a third.
“All right, how does she do that?” a man asked the First. Ayla had not met him before.
“Zelandoni of the Fifth Cave, since she is the one who discovered it, Ayla will explain her technique,” the First said.
Ayla realized this was the Zelandoni of the Cave that had already left for the Summer Meeting when they’d stopped at Old Valley. He was a younger, middle-aged man with brown hair and a round face, which characterized his body as well. There was a round softness about him, and the fleshiness of his face tended to make his eyes look small, but she sensed a shrewd cleverness to him. He could see there might be some benefit to her fire-making technique and wasn’t too proud to ask. Then she recalled that the acolyte with the missing front teeth that Jondalar didn’t like and Wolf had threatened was also from the Fifth Cave.
“First Acolyte of the Second, will you light the lamps again, and Ayla, would you demonstrate how you make fire to the zelandonia?” the large woman said, fighting to keep from gloating. She noticed that her acolyte, Jonokol, was grinning with delight. He loved to see his mentor outmaneuver the rest of the wise, canny, intelligent, strong-willed, and sometimes arrogant zelandonia.
“I use a firestone, like this, and strike it with a piece of flint.” She held out both her hands and showed the iron pyrite in one and the flint in the other.
“I’ve seen those kinds of stones,” Zelandoni of the Fourteenth said, pointing to the hand that held the iron pyrite.
“I hope you can remember where,” the First said. “We don’t know yet whether they are rare or plentiful.”
“Where did you find stones like that?” the Fifth asked Ayla.
“I found the first ones in a valley far to the east of here. Jondalar and I looked for more on our way here. They might not have been where we looked, but I didn’t find any until after we arrived here. A few days ago, I found a few near the Ninth Cave,” Ayla explained.
“And you will show us how they work?” said a tall blond woman.
“That’s what she came here to do, Zelandoni of the Second Cave,” the First said.
Ayla knew she had not met the One Who Served The Mother from the Second Cave, but there was a familiarity about her. Then she remembered Jondalar’s friend Kimeran, the age-mate with whom he shared a superficial resemblance because of their height and hair color. He was the leader of the Second Cave, and though the woman looked a little older, Ayla could definitely see the resemblance. With the brother as leader and the sister as spiritual leader, the arrangement was reminiscent of the brother-sister leadership customs of the Mamutoi—she smiled at the memory—except with them the leadership was shared and Mamut was their spiritual leader.
“I have only two firestones with me,” Ayla said, “but we have more at camp. If Jondalar is nearby, perhaps he can bring some so several people can try it at once.” The large woman nodded, and Ayla continued. “It’s not hard to do, but it takes a little practice to get the knack of it. First make sure you have some good tinder nearby. Then, if you strike them together right, you can draw a long-lived spark that you can blow into a flame.”
While Ayla demonstrated how to use the firestones to the crowd gathered around her, the One Who Was First sent Mikolan, the Second Acolyte of the Fourteenth Cave, to look for Jondalar. As the leader of the zelandonia watched, she noticed that no one held back. There were no more doubts or questions. This new technique for starting a fire was not a trick, it was a legitimate new way to make fire quickly, and they were all eager to learn, as she knew they would be. Fire was too important not to know everything they could about it.
To the people who lived in that cold, ancient, periglacial region, fire was essential, it was the difference between life and death. They needed to know how to start it, how to keep it going, and how to move it from place to place. Though it could be intensely cold, the broad expanse of territory surrounding the massive sheets of glacial ice stretching far south of polar regions was rich with life. The brutally frigid and dry winter conditions inhibited the growth of trees, but at the middle latitudes climate was still seasonal. It could even be hot during the summer, which fostered extensive grasslands that supported vast herds of a great variety of grazing and browsing animals. They, in turn, provided high-energy food to carnivorous and omnivorous animals.
All the species of animals that lived near the ice had adapted to the cold by growing dense, warm, furry coats—except for one. The bare-skinned, furless human animal was a tropical creature who could not live in the cold unassisted. Humans came later, drawn by the rich food supply, but only after they learned how to control fire. Using the fur of the animals they killed for food, they could survive for a while exposed to the elements, but to live, they needed fire, to keep them warm when they rested and slept, and to cook their food, both meat and vegetable, to make it more digestible. When materials to burn were available, they tended to take fire somewhat for granted, but they never forgot how indispensable it was, and when fuel was scarce, or the weather was wet or snowy, they knew how much they depended on fire.
After several people had used one of the two firestones to make a fire and passed it on to the next one waiting to try, Jondalar arrived with more of them. The First personally took the firestones from him at the entrance, counted them to herself, and brought them to Ayla. The training sessions went faster after that. Once all the Zelandonia had each made at least one fire, the acolytes were invited to learn the technique, the more confident doniers helping Ayla to teach their apprentices. It was the Zelandoni of the Fourteenth who brought up the question that everyone wanted to ask.
“What do you plan to do with all these firestones?” she asked.
“From the beginning, Jondalar talked about sharing them with his people,” Ayla began. “Willamar has also talked about using them for trade. It depends on how many we find. I don’t think it’s for me alone to say.”
“Of course, we can all look for some, but do you think there are enough so that each Cave at this Summer Meeting can have at least one?” the First Zelandoni asked. She had counted them and knew the answer.
“I don’t know how many Caves are at this Summer Meeting, but I think there may be enough,” Ayla said.
“If there’s only one for each Cave, I think it should be entrusted to the Zelandoni of that Cave,” the Fourteenth said.
“I agree, and I think we should keep this way of making fire with firestones to ourselves. If only we can make fire like that, imagine how awe-inspiring it would be. Think how a Cave will react to seeing instant fire created by a Zelandoni, especially if it’s really dark,” said Zelandoni of the Fifth Cave. His eyes were full of enthusiasm. “We would command much more authority, and it could be a very effective way to make ceremonies more meaningful.”
“You’re right, Zelandoni of the Fifth,” the Fourteenth said, adding her agreement. “That’s a good idea.”
“Or perhaps it should be entrusted to the Zelandoni and the leader jointly,” the Eleventh said, “to avoid any possible conflict. I know Kareja would not like it if she didn’t have some control over this new technique.”
Ayla smiled at the small slender man who she recalled had a powerful grip and confident manner. He was loyal to his Cave’s leader, which she thought was commendable.
“These firestones would be too useful to a Cave to be kept a secret,” the First said. “We are here to Serve The Mother. We give up our personal names to become one with our people. We must always think first of the best interests of our Caves. It might be exciting for us if we could keep this firestone to ourselves, but the benefit to the entire Zelandonii outweighs our wishes. The stones of the earth are the bones of the Great Earth Mother. It is a Gift from Her, we cannot withhold it.”
The One Who Was First stopped and looked searchingly at each member of the zelandonia in attendance. She knew the firestones could never be kept secret, even if they hadn’t already been shared. There was some obvious disappointment and perhaps a little resistance from the doniers of some of the Caves. She was sure the Fourteenth was getting ready to object.
“You can’t make them a secret,” Ayla said with a frown.
“Why not?” said the Fourteenth. “I think that should be a decision for the zelandonia.”
“I have already given some to Jondalar’s family,” Ayla said.
“That’s too bad,” the Fifth said, shaking his head, immediately acknowledging the uselessness of pursuing it, “but what’s done is done.”
“We have enough authority without them,” Zelandoni Who Was First said, “and we can still use them in our own way. For one thing, we can make an exciting ceremony when we present the firestone to the Caves. I think it will be most effective if Ayla starts the ceremonial fire tomorrow.”
“But will it be dark enough to see the spark that early in the evening? It might be best to let the fire go out and have her relight it,” said Zelandoni of the Third.
“Then how will the people know it was started by the firestone and not by a live coal?” said an older man with light hair, though Ayla wasn’t sure if it was blond or white. “No, I think we need a new hearth, one that has not been lit, but you’re right about the darkness. There are too many distractions at twilight, when the ceremonial fire is lit. Only when it is totally dark can you draw the attention of everyone where you want it, when they can see nothing except what you want them to see.”
“That’s true, Zelandoni of the Seventh Cave,” the First said.
Ayla noticed that he was sitting next to the tall blond woman of the Second Cave, and there was a close resemblance. He could have been the elder man of her hearth, perhaps the mate of her grandma or grandam. She recalled that Jondalar had told her that the Seventh and the Second Caves were related and were located on opposite sides of Grass River and its floodplain. She remembered well because while the Second Cave was the Elder Hearth, the Seventh was Horsehead Rock, and he promised to take her there for a visit when they returned in the autumn to show her the horse in the rock.
“We can start the ceremony without fire and light the hearth after it becomes dark,” Zelandoni of the Twenty-ninth Cave volunteered. She was a pleasant-looking woman with a conciliatory smile, but Ayla’s ability to read body language detected an underlying strength of character and forcefulness. She had met her briefly. This was the woman she had heard people say held the Three Rocks of the Twenty-ninth Cave together.
“But people would think it was strange if there is no ceremonial fire from the beginning, Zelandoni of the Twenty-ninth,” the Zelandoni of the Third countered. “Perhaps it would be best to delay the beginning until darkness falls.”
“Is there something else that can be done first? Some people start gathering early. They will get restless if we hold off too long,” another added. She was a middle-aged woman, nearly as fat as the One Who Was First, but rather than tall, she was quite short. Where the size of the First, both height and weight, gave her a commanding presence, this woman looked warm and motherly.
“How about telling stories, Zelandoni of West Holding? The Story-Tellers are here,” suggested a young man sitting beside her.
“Stories may detract from the seriousness of the ceremony, Zelandoni of North Holding,” the Zelandoni of the Twenty-ninth said.
“Of course, you’re right, Zelandoni of Three Rocks,” the young man said quickly. He seemed rather deferential toward the primary Zelandoni of the Twenty-ninth Cave. Ayla realized that the four Zelandonia of the Twenty-ninth referred to each other by a name of their respective sites rather than their counting words. It made sense, since they were all Zelandonia of the Twenty-ninth Cave. What a confusing situation, she thought, but they seem to be making it work.
“Then have someone talk about a serious matter,” said the Zelandoni of South Holding.
He was the one who had asked the First if Ayla was here about the animals, and the South Holding was Reflection Rock, which housed the Cave led by Denanna. She was the one that Ayla felt viewed her, or perhaps the horses and wolf, with some animosity, but his tone had not seemed unfriendly. She would wait and see.
“Joharran wants to bring up the matter of flatheads and whether or not they are people,” Zelandoni of the Eleventh said. “That is a very serious matter.”
“But some people won’t like to hear such ideas, and are liable to get argumentative. We don’t want to start this Summer Meeting with contentious feelings. That could make them quarrelsome about everything,” Zelandoni Who Was First said. “We have to create a receptive mood before new ideas about flatheads are broached.”
Ayla wondered if it was appropriate for her to comment. “Zelandoni,” she finally said, “could I make a suggestion?” Everyone turned to look, and she didn’t think all the zelandonia were pleased.
“Of course you can, Ayla,” Zelandoni Who Was First said.
“Jondalar and I visited the Losadunai on our way here. We gave the Losaduna and his mate a few firestones … for the whole Cave … they were so kind and helpful …” Ayla hesitated.
“Yes?” Zelandoni encouraged.
“When they made a ceremony to introduce the firestones, they made two hearths,” Ayla continued. “One was all set to light, but cold. The other was burning. They put that one out completely. It was suddenly so dark, you couldn’t see the person sitting next to you, and it was easy to see that not a single coal in the first hearth gave even a hint of a glow. Then I lit the fire in the second hearth.”
There was silence for only a moment. “Thank you, Ayla,” Zelandoni said. “I think that’s a good idea. Perhaps we can do something like it. It could be a very impressive demonstration.”
“Yes, I like that,” Zelandoni of the Third said. “That way we could have the ceremonial fire from the beginning.”
“And a cold fireplace ready to be lit would make people curious. They’d wonder what it was for, and that would build up some anticipation,” Zelandoni of the West Holding of the Twenty-ninth said.
“How should we put the fire out? Douse it with water and make a lot of steam?” the Eleventh said. “Or dump dirt on it and make it go out instantly?”
“Or dump mud on it?” one of the others, whom Ayla hadn’t met, suggested. “Create a little steam, but kill the coals.”
“I like the idea of using water and making lots of steam,” said another one that Ayla didn’t know. “That would be more impressive.”
“No, I think putting it out instantly would be more impressive. Light one moment, dark the next.”
She hadn’t met all the Zelandonia who were there, and as the discussion became more animated, they didn’t always address one another as formally, and she wasn’t able to identify them. She’d had no idea how much planning and consultation went into a ceremony. She always thought that the events just happened spontaneously, that the zelandonia and others who dealt with the spirit world were just agents of those invisible forces. They spoke out freely, and she began to appreciate why some had objected to her presence, but as they discussed each little detail, Ayla’s mind began to stray.
She wondered if the mog-urs of the Clan planned their ceremonies with as much detail, then realized that they probably did, but it would not have been quite the same. Clan ceremonies were ancient, and were always done the way they had always been done, or as close to it as possible. She understood a little more now what a dilemma it must have been when Creb, The Mog-ur, wanted her to take a significant part in one of their most sacred ceremonies.
She looked around the large round summer lodge of the zelandonia. The double-walled circular construction of vertical panels that enclosed the space was similar to the sleeping lodges at the camp of the Ninth Cave, but larger. The movable interior panels that divided the interior into separate areas had been stacked in between sleeping places near the outer walls, creating a single large room. She noticed that the sleeping places were clustered together in one location and that they were all raised, and she recalled that they were also raised in Zelandoni’s lodge at the Ninth Cave. She wondered why, then thought that it was probably because when they were used by patients that had to be brought to the zelandonia lodge, it was easier to tend to them.
The ground was covered with mats, many of them woven with intricate and beautiful patterns, and various pads, pillows, and stools used for seating were scattered around near several low tables of various sizes. Most of them were graced with oil lamps usually made of sandstone or limestone that were, as a rule, lit day and night inside the windowless shelter, many with multiple wicks. Most of the lamps were carefully shaped, smoothed, and decorated, but like the lamps in Marthona’s dwelling, some were crude stones with naturally formed or roughly pecked-out depressions for the melted tallow. Near many of the lamps she saw small carvings of women, propped up in woven bowls of sand. They were all similar, yet different. She had seen several like them and knew they were representations of the Great Earth Mother, what Jondalar called donii.
The donii ranged in size from about four inches to eight inches in height, but each one could be held in a hand. There was some abstraction and exaggeration. The arms and hands were barely suggested, and the legs tapered together with no real feet so the woman figure could be stuck into the ground, or a bowl of sand, and stand upright. It was not a carving of a particular person, there were no features to give identity, though the body may have been suggested by a woman known to the artist. She was not a high-breasted, nubile young woman, at the beginning of her adult life, nor was hers the lean figure of a woman who walked every day, a peripatetic wanderer constantly foraging for food.
A donii depicted a richly obese woman with some experience in living. She was not pregnant, but she had been. Her broad buttocks were matched by huge breasts that hung down over the large, somewhat drooping stomach of a woman who had given birth to and nurtured several children. She had the ample figure of an experienced older woman, a mother, but her shape suggested much more than the fertility of procreation. In order for a woman to be fat, food had to be plentiful and she had to lead a fairly sedentary life. The small carved figure was meant to look like a well-fed, successful mother who provided for her children; she was a symbol of plenty and generosity.
The reality was not too far off. Some years were worse than others, but most of the time, the Zelandonii managed fairly well. There were fat women in the community; the carver of the figures had to know how a fat woman looked to depict her in such faithful detail. Late spring, when the food stored for winter was nearly gone and the new plants had barely sprouted, could be a lean time. The same was true for animals; in spring, they were scrawny and thin, and their meat was stringy and tough with so little fat, even the marrow in their bones was depleted. Then, the people may have done without certain foods, but they did not starve, at least not usually.
To those who lived off the land, hunted and foraged for everything they required to survive, the earth was like a great mother who nourished her children. She gave them what they needed. They did not plant seeds, tend crops, cultivate or water the land, and they did not herd animals, protect them from predators, gather feed for them for winter. Everything was theirs for the taking, if they knew where to look and how to harvest. But they could not take it for granted, because sometimes it was withheld.
Each donii they carved was a receptacle for the spirit of the Great Earth Mother, and a manifest demonstration to inform the unseen forces that controlled their lives what they needed to survive. She was sympathetic magic, meant to show the Mother what they wanted, and therefore extract it from Her. The donii was a representation of the hope that edible plants would be profuse and easy to find and gather, that the animals would be abundant and easily hunted. She was a symbol of and a plea for an earth that was generous, a land that was rich, food that was plentiful, and life that was good. The donii was an idealized figure, an evocation of the conditions that they earnestly desired.
“I would like to thank Ayla …”
She was startled out of her daydreaming when she heard the sound of her name. She couldn’t even remember what she was thinking about.
“… for her willingness to show this new way of making fire to all the zelandonia, and for her patience with some of us who took a little longer to learn,” the One Who Was First said.
There were many voices in agreement, even the Zelandoni of the Fourteenth Cave seemed to be genuine in her appreciation. Then they began to discuss the details of the rest of the ceremony to start off this year’s Summer Meeting, and other ceremonial occasions coming up, particularly the mating ceremony known as the Matrimonial. Ayla wished they would talk more about that, but primarily they talked about when they would meet again to discuss it further. Then the focus of the meeting shifted to the acolytes.
Zelandoni Who Was First stood up. “It is the zelandonia who keep the History of the people.” She looked at the zelandonia-intraining, the acolytes, but Ayla felt that Zelandoni seemed to make a special point of including her.
“Part of an acolyte’s training is the memorization of the Elder Legends and the Histories. They explain who the Zelandonii are and where the People come from. Memorizing also helps one to learn, and there are many things an acolyte must learn. Let us finish this gather with Her Legend, the Mother’s Song.”
She paused and her eyes seemed to look inward, dredging up from the recesses of her own mind a story that she had committed to memory long ago. It was the most important of all the Elder Legends, because it was the one that told of the beginnings. To make the legends easy to remember, they were told in rhyme and meter, and to make the stories that were required to be memorized even easier to recall, melody was often added by those who had the talent to compose music, which other people enjoyed learning. Some of the songs were ancient and so familiar that the sound of the melody was often enough to recall the story.
Zelandoni Who Was First, however, had created a melody of her own composition for the Mother’s Song, and many people were starting to learn it. She began to sing, a cappella, in a pure, strong, beautiful voice.
“Out of the darkness, the chaos of time,
The whirlwind gave birth to the Mother sublime.
She woke to Herself knowing life had great worth,
The dark empty void grieved the Great Mother Earth.”
“The Mother was lonely. She was the only.”
Ayla felt a chill of recognition as the First began and joined in with the rest when they spoke or sang the last line in unison with the One Who Was First.
“From the dust of Her birth She created the other,
A pale shining friend, a companion, a brother.
They grew up together, learned to love and to care,
And when She was ready, they decided to pair.”
“Around Her he’d hover. Her pale shining lover.”
Ayla remembered the last line of the second verse, too, and said it with the others, but then she listened through several more verses, trying to hear the words, saying what she remembered under her breath. She wanted to memorize it exactly because she loved this story, and she loved the way the First sang it. Just the sound of her voice almost brought tears to her eyes. Though she knew she would never learn to sing it, she wanted to learn the words. She had learned the Losadunai version on their Journey, but the language, the meter, and some of the story were different. She wanted to learn the story in Zelandonii and listened carefully.
“The dark empty void and the vast barren Earth,
With anticipation, awaited the birth.
Life drank from Her blood, it breathed from Her bones.
It split Her skin open and sundered Her stones.”
“The Mother was giving. Another was living.”
Jondalar had repeated a few lines to her while they were traveling, but she had never heard anything like the resonance and full dramatic power with which the First Among Those Who Served The Mother brought to it. His words had not been exactly the same, either.
“Her gushing birth waters filled rivers and seas,
And flooded the land, giving rise to the trees.
From each precious drop more grass and leaves grew,
And lush verdant plants made all the Earth new.”
“Her waters were flowing. New green was growing.”
“In violent labor spewing fire and strife,
She struggled in pain to give birth to new life.
Her dried clotted blood turned to red-ochred soil,
But the radiant child made it all worth the toil.”
“The Mother’s great joy. A bright shining boy.”
“Mountains rose up spouting flames from their crests,
She nurtured Her son from her mountainous breasts.
He suckled so hard, the sparks flew so high,
The Mother’s hot milk laid a path through the sky.”
“His life had begun. She nourished Her son.”
This was one of the parts she especially loved. It reminded her of her own experience, especially the part about it being all worth it because of her great joy, her wonderful boy.
“He stole from Her side as the Great Mother slept,
While out of the dark swirling void chaos crept.
With tempting inducements the darkness beguiled.
Deceived by the whirlwind, chaos captured Her child.”
“The dark took Her son. The young brilliant one.”
Just as Broud had taken her son. Zelandoni told the story so well, Ayla found herself feeling anxious for both the Mother and Her son. She was leaning forward, not wanting to miss a word.
“And Her luminous friend was prepared to contest,
The thief who held captive the child of Her breast.
Together they fought for the son She adored.
Their efforts succeeded, his light was restored.”
“His energy burned. His brilliance returned.”
Ayla let out a deep breath and looked around. She wasn’t alone in being caught up in the story. Everyone’s rapt attention was focused on the large woman.
“The Great Mother lived with the pain in Her heart,
That She and Her son were forever apart.
She ached for the child that had been denied,
So She quickened once more from the life-force inside.”
“She was not reconciled. To the loss of Her child.”
Tears were running down Ayla’s face, and she felt a sudden clenching ache for her own son that she had been forced to leave behind with the Clan, and a deep empathic sorrow for the Mother.
“When She was ready, Her waters of birth,
Brought back the green life to the cold barren Earth.
And the tears of Her loss, abundantly spilled,
Made dew drops that sparkled and rainbows that thrilled.”
“Birth waters brought green. But Her tears could be seen.”
Ayla was sure she would never again be able to think of morning dew or rainbows the way she had before. From this time on, they would always remind her of the Mother’s tears.
“With a thunderous roar Her stones split asunder,
And from the great cave that opened deep under,
She birthed once again from Her cavernous room,
And brought forth the Children of Earth from Her womb.”
“From the Mother forlorn, more children were born.”
The next part was not so sad, but it was interesting. It explained how things were now, and why.
“They all were Her children, they filled Her with pride,
But they used up the life-force She carried inside.
She had enough left for a last innovation,
A child who’d remember Who made the creation.”
“A child who’d respect. And learn to protect.”
“First Woman was born full-grown and alive,
And given the Gifts she would need to survive.
Life was the First Gift, and like Mother Earth,
She woke to herself knowing life had great worth.”
“First Woman defined. The first of her kind.”
Ayla looked up and noticed Zelandoni watching her. She glanced at the other people around her and when she looked back, Zelandoni’s gaze had shifted.
“The Mother remembered Her own loneliness,
The love of Her friend and his hovering caress.
With the last spark remaining, Her labor began,
To share life with Woman, She created First Man.”
“Again She was giving. One more was living.”
“To Woman and Man the Mother gave birth,
And then for their home, She gave them the Earth,
The water, the land, and all Her creation.
To use them with care was their obligation.”
“It was their home to use. But not to abuse.”
“For the Children of Earth the Mother provided,
The Gifts to survive, and then She decided,
To give them a Gift of Pleasure and sharing,
That honors the Mother with the joy of their pairing.”
“The Gifts are well-earned. When honor’s returned.”
“The Mother was pleased with the pair She created,
She taught them to love and to care when they mated.
She made them desire to join with each other,
The Gift of their Pleasures came from the Mother.”
“Before She was through. Her children loved too.
Earth’s Children were blessed. The Mother could rest.”
Ayla felt a little confused about the two lines at the end. It broke the established pattern, and she wondered if something was wrong or missing. When she looked at Zelandoni, the woman was staring at her, which made her uncomfortable. She looked down, but when she glanced back up, Zelandoni was still watching her.
After the meeting broke up, Zelandoni fell into stride beside Ayla. “I have to go to the camp of the Ninth Cave, do you mind if I walk with you?” she said.
“No, of course not,” Ayla said.
They walked in companionable silence at first. Ayla was still feeling overwhelmed by the legend, and Zelandoni was waiting to see what she would say.
“That was beautiful, Zelandoni,” Ayla finally said. “When I lived at the Lion Camp, sometimes everyone would make music and sing, or dance, together, and some of them had beautiful voices, but none as beautiful as yours.”
“It is a Gift of the Mother. I didn’t do anything to make it happen, I was born with it. The Legend of the Mother is called the Mother’s Song, because some people like to sing it,” Zelandoni said.
“Jondalar told me a little of the Mother’s Song while we were on our Journey. He said he couldn’t remember it all, but some of his words were not exactly the same as yours,” Ayla said.
“That’s not unusual. There are slightly different versions. He learned from the old Zelandoni, I memorized my mentor’s song. Some of the zelandonia make slight revisions. It’s perfectly all right, as long as it doesn’t change the meaning, and keeps the rhythm and rhyme. If they feel right, people tend to adopt them. If not, they are forgotten. I made up my own song because it pleased me, but there are other ways to sing it.”
“I think most people sing the same song as you do, but what do the words ‘rhythm and rhyme’ mean? I don’t think Jondalar ever explained them to me,” Ayla said.
“I don’t suppose he would. Singing and Story-Telling are not his greatest skills, though he has become much better at telling about his adventures.”
“They are not mine, either. I can remember a story, but I don’t know how to sing. I love to listen to it, though,” Ayla said.
“Rhythm and rhyme help people to remember. Rhythm is the sense of movement. It carries you along as though you are walking at a steady pace. Rhymes are words that sound similar. They add to the rhythm, but they also help you remember the next words.”
“The Losadunai have a similar Legend of the Mother, but it didn’t make me feel the same way, when I memorized it,” Ayla said.
Zelandoni stopped and looked at Ayla. “You memorized it? Losadunai is a different language.”
“Yes, but it’s so similar to Zelandonii, it’s not difficult to learn.”
“Yes, it is similar, but not the same, and some people find it quite difficult. How long did you spend with them?” Zelandoni asked.
“Not too long, less than a moon. Jondalar was in a hurry to get across the glacier before the spring melt made it more dangerous. As it is, the warm wind came on the last day, and we did have some trouble,” Ayla explained.
“You learned their language in less than a moon?”
“Not perfectly. I still made a lot of mistakes, but I did memorize some of Losaduna’s legends. I’ve been trying to learn the Legend of the Mother as the Mother’s Song and say it the way you sing it.”
Zelandoni looked at her a moment longer, then started walking back toward the campsite again. “I’ll be happy to help you with it,” she said.
As they continued, Ayla thought about the legend, especially the part that reminded her of Durc and herself. She was sure she understood how the Great Mother felt when She had to accept that Her son was gone from Her forever. She, too, ached to have her son at her side sometimes, and looked forward to the birth of her new child, Jondalar’s child. She recalled some of the verses she had just heard and began to walk in time to the rhythm as she recited them to herself.
Zelandoni noticed a slight change in their pace. There was a familiar feeling to it. She glanced at Ayla and noted an expression of intense concentration. This young woman belongs in the zelandonia, she said to herself.
Just as they reached the campsite, Ayla stopped and asked a question. “Why are there two lines at the end, instead of just one?”
The woman studied her for a moment before answering. “It’s a question that comes up now and then,” she said. “I don’t know the answer. That’s the way it’s always been. Most people think it’s meant to give the legend a definite ending, once for the verse and once for the entire story.”
Ayla nodded. Zelandoni wasn’t sure if her nod meant acceptance of the explanation or simply comprehension of the statement. Most acolytes don’t even discuss the finer points of the Mother’s Song, she thought. This one definitely belongs in the zelandonia.
They walked a little farther. Ayla noticed the sun was lowering toward the western horizon. It would be getting dark soon.
“I thought the gather went well,” Zelandoni said. “The zelandonia were impressed with your fire-making, and I do appreciate your willingness to show everyone. If we can find enough firestones, everyone will be making fire like that soon. If we can’t find very many … I don’t know. It will probably be best if they are used only to light special ceremonial fires.”
Ayla frowned. “What about people who already have a firestone, or those who may find one? Can you tell them they can’t use it?” she asked.
Zelandoni stopped and looked directly at Ayla. Then she sighed. “No, I can’t. I can ask people to agree, but you’re right. I can’t make them, and there will always be those who will do what they want in any case. I suppose I was thinking out loud of an ideal situation, but in fact, it wouldn’t work, not after everyone knows how to make fire that way.” She made a wry expression. “When the Fifth and the Fourteenth were talking about keeping it a secret for the zelandonia, they were simply saying out loud what I think most of us wished, and I have to include myself. It would be an impressive tool for us, but we can’t keep it from the people.” She started walking again.
“We won’t be planning the Matrimonial until after the first hunt. All the Caves will participate in that,” Zelandoni said. “People get very anxious about it. They believe that if the first hunt is successful, it bodes well for the whole year, but if it’s not, it portends bad luck. The zelandonia will be doing a Search for game. Sometimes that helps. If there are herds around, a good Searcher can help to locate them, but not even the best Searcher can find game if there are none to be found.”
“I assisted Mamut on a Search. It was a surprise to me the first time, but we seemed to have an affinity, and I was caught up in his Search,” Ayla said.
“You Searched with your Mamut?” Zelandoni said with surprise. “What was it like?”
“It’s hard to explain, but something like a bird flying over the land, but there was no wind,” Ayla said, “and the land didn’t look the same, exactly.”
“Would you be willing to assist the zelandonia? We have some Searchers, but it is always better if there are more,” the donier said. She could see some reluctance.
“I’d like to help … but … I don’t want to be a Zelandoni. I just want to mate with Jondalar and have children,” Ayla said.
“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. No one can force you, Ayla, but if a Search leads to a successful hunt, then the Matrimonial will be lucky, or so it is believed, and will produce long matings and successful hearths—families,” the First said.
“Yes, well, I suppose I could try to help, but I don’t know if I can,” Ayla said.
“Don’t worry. No one is ever sure. All anyone can do is try.” Zelandoni felt pleased with herself. It was obvious that Ayla was reluctant and would try to resist becoming zelandonia, and this would be a way to get her started. She needs to be a part of the zelandonia, the First thought. She has too much talent, too many skills, and she asks questions that are too intelligent. She has to be brought into the fold or she might create dissension outside of it.