The First gave the young woman a sharp look. Perhaps she should have spoken with Ayla earlier, in more depth. Was it possible she knew of a way to thwart the will of Doni? This was the wrong way to bring it up, but it was too late now. The zelandonia who were standing nearby were talking loudly and gesticulating among themselves, some were just as agitated as the Fourteenth. A few were saying it was wrong. The rest were coming back to the central area to find out what was going on. Ayla didn’t know her statement would cause such a stir.
The three women with her were standing back and watching. Marthona looked on with sardonic amusement, though her expression remained neutral. Joplaya was astounded that the esteemed zelandonia could quarrel so ardently, but was just as shocked as they were. Jerika listened with great interest, but she had already decided to speak with Ayla in private. Her announcement to the zelandonia could be the solution to a serious problem that had been worrying the woman for some time.
When she first met him, Jerika had fallen completely and irrevocably in love with the handsome giant of a man who was so charmed by the exquisitely dainty yet fiercely independent young woman. He was a gentle man and consummate lover in spite of his size, and she reveled in their Pleasures. When he asked her to be his mate, she accepted without hesitation, and when she discovered that she was pregnant, she was delighted. But the baby she carried was too big for her tiny frame, and the delivery nearly killed her and her daughter. It damaged her internally, and she never became pregnant again, much to her regret, and relief.
Now her daughter had chosen a man who was, though not as tall, if anything more robust, with powerful muscles and huge bones. Though Joplaya was tall, she was thin and rather delicate with, Jerika had carefully noticed, narrow hips. From the time she realized who her daughter would probably end up choosing, and therefore be the one whose spirit would most likely be chosen by the Mother to start any children she might have, she worried that Joplaya would suffer her fate, or worse. She suspected that Joplaya was already pregnant, since she had started having violent bouts of morning sickness on the trip, but she refused her mother’s suggestion to end the pregnancy.
Jerika knew there was nothing she could do about it. It was the Great Mother’s decision. Joplaya would be Blessed or not, when She wished, and live or die at Her discretion, but Jerika suspected that with the man Joplaya had chosen, the chances were that her daughter would die young and painfully in childbirth, if not with the first, then later, with another one. Her only hope was that her daughter would live through this first one and, like herself, as painful as it was, be damaged so badly that she would never be able to get pregnant again … until she heard Ayla say that she knew how to prevent life from starting. She immediately decided that if her daughter had as much trouble as she did and managed to live through the birth of her first, to save her life, she would make sure Joplaya would not get pregnant again.
“Quiet, please,” the One Who Was First said. The noise finally settled down. “Ayla, I want to make sure I understand you. Are you saying you know how to stop a pregnancy before it starts? That you know how to prevent life from beginning?” she asked.
“Yes. I thought you would know, too. I was using certain plants on my Journey from the east with Jondalar. I did not want to have a baby while we were traveling, I had no one to help me,” she said.
“You told me that you were already Blessed by Doni. You said it has been three moons since your last bleeding. You were still traveling then,” the donier said.
“I’m almost certain this baby was started after we crossed the glacier,” Ayla said. “We brought only enough of the Losadunai burning stones to melt ice for water to drink for the horses and Wolf and the two of us. I did not even try to boil water for tea and did not prepare my usual morning drink. It was a very difficult crossing, and we almost didn’t make it. When we reached this side and got down off the ice, we stayed and rested for a while, and I didn’t bother to make the preparation. By that time, it didn’t matter if life started. We were almost here. I was happy when I realized I was pregnant.”
“Where did you learn about this medicine?” Zelandoni asked.
“From Iza, the medicine woman who raised me.”
“How did she say it worked?” Zelandoni of the Fourteenth asked.
The First looked at her, trying to contain her annoyance. She was asking questions in a logical sequence. She didn’t need help or interference, but Ayla answered anyway.
“The Clan believes that the spirit of a man’s totem fights the spirit of a woman’s totem, and that is why she bleeds. When the man’s totem is stronger than a woman’s, it defeats hers and begins the new life. Iza told me that certain plants could make a woman’s totem strong and help her totem spirit fight off the man’s,” she explained.
“Primitive, but I’m surprised they have ideas about it at all,” the Fourteenth said, and got a hard stare from the First.
Ayla heard the disdain in her tone and was glad now that she hadn’t said anything earlier about a man starting a baby inside a woman. She didn’t think it was a blending of spirits by Doni any more than it was a defeated totem, but she thought the Fourteenth or someone else would probably find her thoughts more worthy of criticism than consideration.
“You said you used the plants on your Journey. What made you think the medicine would work?” the First asked, taking control of the questions again.
“Men of the Clan put great value on the children of their mates, particularly if they are boys. When their mate has a child, it adds to their prestige. They believe it shows the vigor of their totem, which is in a sense their inner strength. Iza told me she used the plants herself for many years to keep from getting pregnant because she wanted to bring disgrace upon her mate. He was a cruel man who beat her to show his authority over a medicine woman of her rank, so she decided to show that his totem spirit wasn’t strong enough to defeat hers,” Ayla said.
“Why would she put up with such behavior?” the Fourteenth interjected again. “Why didn’t she just sever the knot and find another mate?”
“Women of the Clan have no choice in whom they mate. It is decided by the leader and the other men,” Ayla explained.
“No choice!” the Fourteenth sputtered.
“Under the circumstances, I’d say it showed a great deal of subtle intelligence on the part of the woman, what was her name, Iza?” the First said quickly, before the Fourteenth could butt in and ask another question. “Do all the women of the Clan know about these plants?”
“No, only medicine women, and I think this preparation was known only to women of Iza’s line, but she gave the preparation to some of the other women if she thought they needed it. I don’t know if she told them what it was, though. If any of the men had found out, they would have been very angry, but no one would ask Iza. A medicine woman’s knowledge is not for men to know. It is passed down to her daughters, who would become medicine women themselves, if they showed the inclination. Iza thought of me as her daughter,” Ayla said.
“I am very surprised at the sophistication of their medicine,” Zelandoni said, knowing she was speaking for many of the others.
“Mamut of the Lion Camp understood how effective their medicine was. He went on a Journey when he was young, and broke his arm, quite badly. He stumbled into the cave of a clan, and the medicine woman there set his arm and nursed him back to health. We both believed it was the same clan as the one I lived with. The woman who healed him was Iza’s grandmother.”
There was total silence in the tent when Ayla finished. What she said was very difficult to believe. The zelandonia of the nearby Caves had heard Joharran and Jondalar talk to people about the flatheads, whom Ayla said called themselves the Clan, and were people, not animals. There had been much discussion about it the next few days, but most dismissed the idea. Flatheads might be a little more clever than most people thought, perhaps, but hardly human. Now this woman was saying that they had healed a man of the Mamutoi and had thought about how life began. She even implied that their medicinal practices might be more advanced than those of the Zelandonii.
The zelandonia started discussing these issues again, and the commotion inside the tent could be heard outside. The male zelandonia who had been guarding the women’s meeting were dying of curiosity to find out what was causing the uproar, but were waiting to be invited back in. They knew there were still a few women inside, but it was most unusual for a women’s meeting to become so heated.
The First had heard Ayla speak in depth of the Clan before and was quicker to grasp the implications and to extend them. She was now persuaded that they were people, and believed it was important for the Zelandonii to understand the possible consequences, but even she had not realized how advanced they were. Zelandoni had presumed a simpler, more primitive way of life and believed that their medicine was at a similar level. She felt that Ayla had gained some good basic instruction that she could develop. This called for a reevaluation.
Their own Histories harked back to a time when the Zelandonii lived a simpler life, but their comprehension of vegetable foods and medicines had been more advanced than other kinds of knowledge. She suspected that awareness of plants was older, went back further. If the Clan was as ancient as Ayla seemed to think, it was not beyond the realm of possibility that their knowledge could be quite developed. Especially if it was true, as Ayla had indicated, that they had some kind of special memory they could draw on. Zelandoni wished that she had spoken with Ayla before it was brought up to the zelandonia, but perhaps it was best this way. It might take just such a shock to make the zelandonia realize the full impact that the people Ayla knew as the Clan could have on them.
“Let’s be quiet, please,” Zelandoni said, trying to settle them down again. When order was finally restored, she made an announcement. “It appears that Ayla has brought us some information that may be very useful. The Mamutoi were very perceptive when they adopted her to the hearth of the Mammoth, which was, in effect, the same as being adopted by the zelandonia. We will speak with her in some depth later and explore the extent of her knowledge. If she does in truth know of ways to prevent the start of life, this could be a great benefit, and we should be grateful to have it.”
“I should tell you that it doesn’t always work,” Ayla interjected. “Iza’s mate died when an earthquake collapsed their cave, but she was pregnant when she found me. Her daughter, Uba, was born not long after. But Iza could count twenty years by then, very old for a woman of the Clan to have a first child. Their girls become women at eight or nine years. But the medicine worked for her for many years, and it worked for me for most of my Journey.”
“Very little of the knowledge of medicine or healing is absolutely certain,” Zelandoni said. “In the end, it is still the Great Mother who decides.”
Jondalar was glad to see the women returning. He had been waiting for Ayla. He had stayed at their camp with Wolf when Dalanar went to the main camp with Joharran and had promised that he would meet them as soon as Ayla returned. Marthona had told Folara to have some hot tea and a little food ready for them, and invited Jerika and Joplaya to their lodge. Marthona and Jerika talked about mutual friends and relations, and Folara started telling Joplaya about some activities the younger people were planning.
Ayla joined them for a while, but after the rather contentious ending to the meeting in the zelandonia lodge, she felt a need to go off by herself. Saying that she wanted to check on the horses, she picked up her haversack and left with Wolf. She walked upstream along the creek, visited with the horses for a while, then continued on until she came to the pool. She was tempted to go for a swim, but decided to keep on walking instead. She proceeded along a newly developing path, and when she found herself near the new cave, she realized that she had gone the way that Jondalar and the others had come before.
As she approached the small hill that held the cave, she could see the mouth clearly and noticed that the obstructing brush had been cleared away. Dirt and stones around the opening had also been removed, which enlarged the entrance. It was likely that nearly every one of the people at the Summer Meeting of Zelandonii had been inside the new cave at least once by now, but there was little evidence to show for the visits. Because it was so beautiful, and so unusual with its nearly white stone walls, it was considered a very sacred place and rather inviolable. The zelandonia and Cave leaders were still getting accustomed to it, working out the appropriate times and ways to use it. Traditions hadn’t been developed yet, it was too new.
The spot where she had made a small fire to light torches and left charcoal remains had become a fireplace with stones encircling it and a few partially burned torches nearby. She removed her fire-making kit from her pack, quickly kindled a fire and lit one of the torches, then walked to the entrance of the cave.
Holding the torch high, she stepped inside the dark space. The sunlight coming in through the entrance lit the soft dirt floor of the sloping entry corridor, which had acquired an accumulation of footprints of all sizes, both bare and in footwear. She saw an imprint of a long, narrow bare foot, probably of a tall man, another of average size and slightly wider, the foot of either a grown woman or a growing boy. There was the sole of a sandal woven of grass or reeds, near it the blurred outline of a leather moccasin, then a line of the widely spaced, rather unsteady, tiny footprints of a toddler just learning to walk. On top of them was the pawprint of a wolf. Ayla wondered what a tracker, unaware of the animal that walked ahead of her into the cave, would make of that.
She felt the air become cool and damp and the space darken as she proceeded underground. The cave did not require feats of agility to get into, at least to the large main room. This was a cave that whole families would use, but not as a living space. Underground caves were too dark and damp to live in, especially when the region was full of shelters open to daylight with level floors and overhanging stone ledges above to protect them from rain and snow. And this cave was so beautiful, it felt like a special sanctuary, an extraordinary entrance to the womb of the Mother.
She and Wolf walked along the left side of the large room with the white walls, then she went into the narrow gallery at the back with the walls that widened out as they rose and came together in the curved white ceiling. She stepped down into the widened area around the round column, which came down from the roof but didn’t reach the floor. She was beginning to feel cold and reached into her pack to take out the soft leather hide of a giant deer and put it around her shoulders. It was from the deer that she had brought down with her spear-thrower before the bison hunt that killed Shevonar. So much had happened since then, it felt as though it was long ago. But it wasn’t, she thought.
She walked to the end of the narrow corridor after it turned around the hanging pier, then came back and sat down. She liked the roominess of the space. Wolf came and rubbed his head against her free hand. “I think you want some attention,” she said, shifting her torch to her left hand and scratching behind his ears. When he left to explore again, her mind wandered back to the meeting earlier with the other women who were going to be mated and the zelandonia, and the discussions after most of the other women left.
She thought about kinship signs and remembered that Marthona’s was the horse and wondered what hers was. She found it interesting that in the spirit world horses and aurochs and bison were power animals that were more important than wolves or cave lions, or probably cave bears. It was a place where things were reversed, backward, maybe inside out, or upside down. As she sat there a feeling started to come over her, a feeling that she’d had before. She didn’t like it and tried to fight it, but she had no control over it. She seemed to be remembering something, remembering her dreams, but it was more than memory and more than dreamlike, it was as though she were reliving her dreams and memories, with a vague sense of remembering things that hadn’t happened.
She felt an anxious worry, she had done something wrong, and drained the liquid left in the bowl. She followed flickering lights through a long endless cave, then bathed in firelight she saw the mog-urs. She felt sickened and petrified with fear, she was falling into a black abyss. Suddenly Creb was helping her, supporting her, easing her fears. Creb was wise and kind. He understood the spirit world.
The scene changed. With a tawny flash, the feline sprang for the aurochs and wrestled the huge reddish-brown wild cow, bawling in terror, to the ground. Ayla gasped and tried to squeeze herself into the solid rock of the tiny cave. A cave lion roared, and a gigantic paw with claws outstretched reached in and raked her left thigh with four parallel gashes.
“Your totem is the Cave Lion,” the old Mog-ur said.
It changed again. The line of fires showing the way down the corridor of a long, winding cave cast light upon beautiful draped and flowing formations. She saw one that resembled the long flowing tail of a horse. It turned into a dun-yellow mare who flowed into the herd. She nickered and swished her dark tail, seeming to beckon. Ayla looked to see where she was going and was startled to see Creb stepping out of the shadows. He motioned her on, urging her to hurry. She heard a horse whinny. The herd was galloping away toward the edge of the cliff. She was in a panic, ran after them. Her stomach churned into a knot of fear. She heard the sound of a horse screaming as it was falling over the edge, tumbling end over end, upside down.
She had two sons, brothers whom no one would guess were brothers. One was tall and blond like Jondalar, the other, older one, she knew was Durc, though his face was in shadow. The two brothers approached each other from opposite directions in the middle of an empty, desolate, windblown prairie. She felt great anxiety; something terrible was about to happen, something she had to prevent. Then, with a shock of terror, she knew one of her sons would kill the other. As they drew closer, she tried to reach them, but a thick viscous wall held her trapped. They were almost upon each other, arms raised as though to strike. She screamed.
“Wake up, child!” Mamut said. “It is only a symbol, a message.”
“But one will die!” she cried.
“It is not what you think, Ayla,” Mamut said. “You must find the real meaning. You have the Talent. Remember, the spirit world is not the same, it is reversed, upside down.”
Ayla jerked when the torch dropped. She grabbed for it and picked it up before the fire died, then glanced up at the hanging pillar that looked as though it supported something, but didn’t even reach the ground. It was reversed, upside down. She shivered. Then, for an instant, the pillar turned into a transparent, viscous wall. On the other side a horse was tumbling end over end, upside down, falling off the edge of a cliff.
Wolf was back, nosing at her and whining, running out, then coming back and whining again. Ayla stood up and watched the wolf, still trying to clear her head. “What do you want, Wolf? What are you trying to tell me? Do you want me to follow you? Is that it?”
She started out of the back gallery, and when she reached the opening, she saw another torch coming down the slope into the cave. The person carrying the torch obviously saw her, too, though her torch was starting to sputter and die. She hurried, but took only a few more steps before her light went out. She stopped, then noticed that the light coming toward her was moving faster. She felt relieved, but before the person reached her, her eyes began to adjust to the dark. She could see a little by the faint light that reached the back of the large chamber from outside, and thought she could probably find her way, if she had to, but she was glad someone was coming. She was surprised, however, when she saw who it was.
“It’s you!” they both said together.
“I didn’t know anyone was in here, I don’t want to disturb you.”
“I’m so glad to see you,” Ayla said at the same time, then smiled. “I really am glad to see you, Brukeval. My torch died.”
“I noticed,” he said. “Why don’t I walk you out? That is, if you are ready to go.”
“I’ve been in here too long,” she said. “I’m cold. I’ll be glad to feel the sun. I should have paid attention.”
“It’s easy to get distracted in this cave. It’s so beautiful, and feels so … I don’t know, special,” he said, holding the light high between them as they started out.
“It does, doesn’t it?”
“It must have been exciting for you to be the first one to see it. We’ve been on these slopes so many times, I couldn’t even say all the counting words, yet no one found it until you came,” Brukeval said.
“Just to see it is exciting, being the first one doesn’t matter. I think it must be just as exciting for anyone the first time they see it. Have you been here before?” Ayla asked.
“Yes. Everyone was talking about it, so before it got dark, I got a torch and came to see it. I didn’t have time to see much, the sun was going down. Just enough to make me decide to come back today,” Brukeval said.
“Well, I’m grateful you did,” Ayla said as they started up the slope of the entranceway. “I probably could have gotten out, a little light reaches back there, and Wolf would have helped me, but I can’t tell you how relieved I was to see your torch coming toward me.”
Brukeval looked down and noticed the wolf. “Yes, I’m sure he would have. I didn’t see him before. He’s special, too, isn’t he?”
“He is to me. Have you met him yet? There’s a kind of formal introduction that I do with him. He understands then that you are a friend,” Ayla said.
“I’d like to be your friend,” Brukeval said.
The way he said it made Ayla look at him, quickly, in her unobtrusive Clan woman way. She felt a chill and a sense of foreboding. There seemed to be more in his statement than a wish for friendship. She sensed a yearning for her and then decided she didn’t want to believe it. Why should Brukeval yearn for her? They hardly knew each other. She smiled at him, partly to cover her disquiet, as they walked out of the cave.
“Then let’s introduce you to Wolf,” she said.
She took Brukeval’s hand and went through the process of giving Wolf his scent in the context of her approval.
“I don’t think I ever told you how much I admired you that day you faced Marona down,” he said when she was through. “She can be a cruel and vicious woman. I know, I lived with her when I was growing up. We’re considered cousins, far cousins, but her mother was the closest relation to my mother after she died, who could nurse a baby, so she was stuck with me. She accepted the responsibility, but she didn’t like it.”
“I admit, I don’t care much for Marona,” Ayla said, “but some people think she may not be able to have children. If that is true, I feel sorry for her.”
“I’m not sure if she can’t, or just doesn’t want to. Some think she just makes sure that she loses it whenever she’s Blessed. She wouldn’t make a decent mother anyway. She doesn’t know how to think of anyone but herself,” Brukeval said. “Not like Lanoga. She’ll be a wonderful mother.”
“She already is,” Ayla said.
“And thanks to you, there’s a good chance Lorala will live,” he said. The way he was looking at her made Ayla uncomfortable again. She looked down and petted Wolf as a distraction.
“It’s the mothers who are nursing her, not me,” she said.
“But no one else bothered to find out that the baby wasn’t getting any milk, or cared enough to get help for Lorala. I’ve seen how you are with Lanoga. You treat her like she’s worth something.”
“Of course she’s worth something,” Ayla said. “She’s an admirable girl, and she’s going to be a wonderful woman.”
“Yes, she is, but she’s still part of the lowest-ranked family in the Ninth Cave,” Brukeval said. “I’d mate her and share my status with her, it doesn’t do me any good, anyway, but I doubt if she’d want me. I’m too old for her, and too … well … no woman wants me. I do hope she finds someone worthy of her.”
“So do I, Brukeval. But why do you think no woman wants you?” Ayla protested. “I understand you have a ranking in the Ninth Cave that is near the first, and Jondalar says that you are an excellent hunter who contributes a lot to the Cave. Jondalar thinks a lot of you, Brukeval. If I were a Zelandonii woman looking for a likely mate, and if I weren’t going to mate Jondalar, I would consider you. You have so much to offer.”
He watched her carefully, trying to make sure that she wasn’t saying those things just so she could twist them around in her next breath into a condescending sarcasm the way Marona used to do. But Ayla seemed sincere and her feelings genuine.
“Well, you’re not looking, I’m sorry to say,” Brukeval said, “but if you ever decide to start, let me know.” Then he smiled, trying to make it seem like a joke.
From the first moment he saw her, Brukeval knew she was the woman he had always dreamed of. The trouble was, she was going to mate Jondalar. What a lucky man, he thought, but then, he always was lucky. I hope he appreciates what he has, but if he doesn’t, I would. I’d take her in a heartbeat, if she would have me.
They looked up when they heard the sound of voices and saw several people coming from the direction of the camp of the Ninth Cave. The two tall men who looked so much alike were immediately identifiable. Ayla waved and smiled at Jondalar and Dalanar. They all recognized her and waved back. The two tall young women with them couldn’t have looked more different, and though they were considered cousins, it was far cousins, but they both had a close connection to Jondalar. The complex family ties of the Zelandonii had been explained to Ayla, and she thought about their relationships as she watched them approach.
Among the Zelandonii, only children of the same woman were called brothers and sisters; children of the same man’s hearth were considered cousins, not siblings. Folara and Jondalar were sister and brother because they shared the same mother, though the men of their hearths were different; Joplaya was his close cousin because although Dalanar was the man of the hearth to both of them, they had different mothers. But while a sibling relationship wasn’t acknowledged, it was understood. Close cousins, especially the ones also called hearth cousins, were too close to mate with each other.
The last person who was with them was Echozar, Joplaya’s Promised. He was as distinctive in his general shape and size as the tall men were, especially to Ayla. Joplaya and Echozar would be mated during the same Matrimonial as she and Jondalar, and couples who shared the same ceremony often developed strong friendships. She wished that could be true, but they lived far apart and it was not likely. As they got closer, Ayla noticed that Joplaya glanced at Jondalar now and then, and surprisingly, she didn’t mind. She felt an empathetic sorrow for her. She understood Joplaya’s melancholy. She, too, had once been Promised to the wrong man, but for Joplaya there would be no last-moment reprieve.
Close cousins were often raised together, or lived nearby and knew they were close kin and not available to be considered for mating. But when Jondalar went to live with the man of his hearth, after the fight in which he knocked out the two front teeth of the man now known as Madroman, he was already a teenager. The daughter of Dalanar’s hearth, Joplaya, was a little younger, but neither had known each other while they were growing up.
Dalanar was delighted to have both his hearth children together and wanted them to get to know each other. He decided that one way was to train them both in the art of flint-knapping, which would give them something in common to talk about. It was, in fact, a very good idea, but he didn’t know what effect the youngster who was so much like himself would have on Joplaya. She had always adored the man of her hearth, and when Jondalar came, it was all too easy to transfer that overpowering love to her close cousin. Jerika saw it, but both Dalanar and Jondalar were unaware of it. Joplaya always couched her feelings about him in terms of jokes, and they, knowing that close cousins couldn’t mate, took it at face value and assumed that she was only teasing.
There were relatively few people in Dalanar’s Cave of Lanzadonii, and none that offered much to a beautiful and intelligent young woman. After Jondalar left on his Journey, Jerika urged Dalanar to take the Lanzadonii Cave to Zelandonii Summer Meetings occasionally. They both hoped that Joplaya would find someone, and a great many young men were interested in her, but she felt different and self-conscious because people stared at her. And she could find no one with whom she was as comfortable as she had been with her cousin Jondalar.
She knew that occasionally some cousins did mate—far cousins, to be sure—but she chose to forget that and fantasized that on his Journey Jondalar would decide that he loved her as she loved him. She knew the dream was unlikely, but she passionately hoped that someday he would come home and claim her as his one true love. Instead, he returned with Ayla. She was devastated, but she saw the love he felt for the foreign woman and knew that her dream was shattered.
The one man with whom she had developed some affinity was a new member of Dalanar’s Cave, a man who was also stared at wherever he went, Echozar, a man of mixed spirits. Joplaya was the one who helped him integrate into their Cave, made him understand that he was accepted by Dalanar and the Lanzadonii, and even helped him with his language skills. And she was the one who coaxed his story out of him.
His mother had been raped by a man of the Others, who also killed her mate. When she gave birth, she was cursed as a bad-luck woman because her mate had been killed and her son was deformed. She left her clan, ready to die, but was rescued by Andovan, an older man who had run away from a vicious leader of the S’Armunai. He had lived for a while with a Zelandonii Cave, but was not comfortable with people whose customs were so different from his own. He moved away and lived by himself until he found the Clan woman and her son. Together they raised him. Echozar learned the Clan language of signs from his mother, and spoken language from Andovan, though it was a mixture of his own language and the Zelandonii he had learned. But when he reached manhood, Andovan died. His mother couldn’t stand to live alone and succumbed to the death curse that had been imposed on her. She died shortly after Andovan, leaving Echozar alone.
The young man didn’t want to live alone. He tried to return to a clan, but they thought of him as deformed and refused to accept him. And though he could speak, he was rejected by the Caves as an abomination of mixed spirits. Out of desperation, he tried to kill himself, and woke up to Dalanar’s smiling face, who found him injured, but not dead, and brought him back to his Cave. The Lanzadonii took him in, and he idolized the tall man, but it was Joplaya that he loved.
She had been kind to him, talked to him, listened to him, even made him a beautiful decorated tunic for his adoption ceremony into the Lanzadonii. He loved her so much, it hurt to think about it, but he didn’t think he had a chance. He had struggled with himself for a long time to get up enough courage to ask if she would be his mate, and could hardly believe it when she finally accepted. It was after her hearth cousin Jondalar returned with Ayla, both of whom he liked immediately. They didn’t treat him as though he were different.
Wherever Echozar went, people stared at him. The combined characteristics that he inherited from the Clan and the Others were not the most appealing. In height, he was as tall as an average man of the Others, but he retained the powerful, barrel-chested physique, relatively short, bowed legs, and hairy body of the Clan. His neck was long and he could speak, he even had a slight chin, like the Others, though it receded, making it look weak. His prominent nose and heavy browridges with unruly eyebrows that crossed his forehead in a single line were entirely Clan. His forehead was not. It rose up as straight and high as any man of the Others.
The combination seemed outlandish to many people, as though he didn’t quite fit together, but not to Ayla. She had grown up with the Clan and had consequently adopted their standard of beauty. She had always thought of herself as big and ugly. She was too tall, and her face was too bland and flat. Though she may have thought the look of the mixture was attractive, to everyone else Echozar was extraordinarily ugly, except for his eyes. Liquid dark at night and sparkling with highlights of hazel in the sun, his large, deep brown eyes were profoundly intense, acutely compelling, and highly intelligent, and when he looked at her, they revealed his love for Joplaya.
Though she did not love him, Joplaya did feel a kind of kinship with Echozar and a genuine respect. Though people stared at her because of her exotic beauty, it still made her feel different, and she hated it as much as he did. She also felt comfortable with him, she could talk to him. She decided if she couldn’t have the man she loved, she would mate the man who loved her, and she knew she would never find a man who loved her more than Echozar.
As the group from the camp drew near, Ayla noticed Brukeval become tense. He was staring at Echozar, and there was no friendliness in his expression. It made her aware of the similarities and the differences between them. In Echozar’s case, it was his mother who had given birth to a child that was mixed; with Brukeval, it was his grandmother. Echozar’s Clan characteristics were definitely more pronounced, but to her—and to everyone there—the mixture was obvious in both. Brukeval did, however, resemble the Others more than Echozar.
Though she was learning to appreciate what was pleasing to the Others, she still found the strong Clan features attractive. She had meant it when she told Brukeval that she couldn’t understand why he thought no woman would want him. She probably would consider him, if she weren’t mating Jondalar and if she were a Zelandonii woman. But she knew she wasn’t really a Zelandonii woman, at least not yet, and she personally wouldn’t consider Brukeval at all. While she thought he was handsome, and that he did have a lot to offer, there was something about him that disturbed her. The member of the Clan that he reminded her of most was Broud, and the way he was looking at Echozar right now explained why.
“Greetings, Brukeval,” Jondalar said, walking up to the man with a smile on his face. “I think you know Dalanar, the man of my hearth, but have you met my cousin Joplaya, and her Promised, Echozar?” Jondalar was prepared to do the formal introductions, and Echozar had raised his hands in readiness, but before he could begin, Brukeval interrupted.
“I have no desire to touch a flathead!” he said, putting his hands down to his sides, then he turned aside and stalked away.
Everyone was stunned. It was Folara who finally spoke.
“How could he be so rude!” she said. “I know he blames flatheads for his mother’s death—I guess I should say the Clan now—but that was unforgivable. I know mother taught Brukeval better manners than that, if no one else did. She would be appalled.”
“My mother may have been flathead or Clan. You can say it any way you want, but I am neither,” Echozar said. “I am Lanzadonii.”
“Yes, you are,” Joplaya said, reaching for his hand. “And soon we will be mated.”
“We know there is Clan in Brukeval’s lineage, too,” Dalanar said. “It’s obvious. If he can’t bear to touch someone with that background, how can he stand himself?”
“He can’t. That’s his problem,” Jondalar said. “Brukeval hates himself. He was teased a lot when he was young, other children used to call him a flathead, and he always denied it.”
“But he can’t change what he is no matter how much he denies it,” Ayla said.
No one had lowered their voices, and Brukeval had excellent hearing. He heard everything that was said. He had another characteristic of the Others that the Clan lacked, he cried tears, and as he walked away, tears filled his eyes. Even her, he said to himself after Ayla’s comment. I thought she was different. I thought she meant it when she said she would consider me if Jondalar were gone, but she thinks I’m a flathead, too. She didn’t mean it. She would never consider me. The more he thought about it, the more angry he became. It’s not right for her to encourage a person when she doesn’t mean it. I am not a flathead, no matter what she says, no matter what any of them say. I am not a flathead!
It was dark, but the sky had already changed from black to inky blue, with a hint of gold outlining the hills on the eastern horizon, when the group from the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii and the First Cave of the Lanzadonii started from their camp. They used torches to make their way to the place where Jondalar had demonstrated the spear-thrower, and they were glad to see the bonfire burning in the middle of the open stretch of trampled ground that had once been a field of grass. Some hunters had already arrived. As the sky lightened, the cool morning mist rising from The River began filling the spaces between trees and brush on the periphery and mingling with the people standing around the fire.
The morning chorus of birds was in full throat, trilling, chirping, twittering, and calling over the low murmur of voices, highlighting the mood of anticipation. Holding Whinney’s halter rope, Ayla knelt down and put an arm around Wolf, then smiled at Jondalar, who was stroking Racer to keep him calm. She looked around in wonder; it was the largest hunting party she had ever seen. There were far too many people for her to count. She recalled that Zelandoni had offered to teach her how to use the words to count larger numbers, and she decided to ask her. She would like to be able to say how many people were there milling around.
Women who were about to mate did not usually participate in the pre-Matrimonial hunt, there were usually certain restrictions and various other activities planned for them. The First did a cursory run-through with her so she could be excused. This hunt was going to be a test of using horses, and trying out Jondalar’s spear-thrower, and they wanted her. Ayla was glad that she had been allowed to join the hunt, in spite of her upcoming Matrimonial. She had always enjoyed hunting. If she hadn’t learned to hunt when she lived alone in her valley, she might not have survived, and it had given her a certain sense of self-reliance.
Though several of the women who were to be mated had hunted, only one of them cared about joining the hunt. Since an exception had been made for Ayla, she was also allowed to join them. When they were young, most girls loved to go hunting just like the boys. After they reached puberty, many of them still hunted, mostly because that’s where the boys were. Several enjoyed hunting for itself, but once young women mated and began to have children, most were so busy, they were happy to let the men do it. That was when they began to develop other crafts and skills that added to their status and ability to trade and bargain for things they wanted and that wouldn’t take them so far away from their children. But women who had hunted in their youth were looked upon as favorable mates. They could understand the challenges of the hunt, appreciate the successes and sympathize with the failures of their mates.
Ayla had gone to the Search ceremony arranged by the zelandonia the evening before, along with most of the leaders and some hunters, but she had only observed, not participated. Through the Search, it was determined that a large herd of aurochs were congregated in a nearby valley that was particularly good for hunting, and they planned to try there first, but nothing was guaranteed. Even though a zelandoni might metaphysically “see” animals during a Search, they might not still be where they were seen the next day. But the valley held a good meadow that attracted the wild cattle, and if the aurochs were gone, it was likely some other animals would be there. The hunters hoped to find aurochs, however, because the cattle were massing together in larger herds this time of year, and they provided tasty meat in very big packages.
When the food he thrived on was in abundance, a full-grown bull aurochs grew to six feet six inches at the shoulder and weighed nearly three thousand pounds, two and a half feet taller and more than twice the weight of his largest domesticated descendant. He looked like an ordinary bull but was so much bigger, he approached the size of a mammoth. The food preferred by aurochs was grass, fresh green grass, not mature stalks and not tree leaves. They favored clearings, edges of forests, meadows, and marshes rather than steppes. Although they would eat acorns and nuts in the fall, as well as grass seeds, to build up a reserve of fat, and in winter’s hungry time they wouldn’t disdain browsing on leaves and buds.
The bull’s coat was usually black and long, with a light stripe down his back. He had a tight knot of curly hair on his forehead and two long, rather thin horns, whitish gray shading into black, forward-pointing tips. Cows were smaller and shorter, and their coats tended to be lighter in color, often with a reddish tone. Usually only the old or the very young fell to four-legged predators. The bull in his prime was unafraid of any hunter, including humans, and didn’t bother to avoid them. Especially during the fall rutting season, but not limited to then, he was ready to fight and could charge in an uncontrolled rage, pick up a man or a wolf with his horns, and toss him in the air, and would gore and often disembowel even a cave lion. Aurochs were fast, strong, agile, and very dangerous.
The horde of hunters started out as soon as it was light enough to see. Walking fast, they sighted the herd of aurochs before the sun was very high; the valley was surprisingly close. One end of it led into a fairly large canyon that funneled to a narrow defile, then opened out again into a natural corral. It wasn’t completely blind, it had a few narrow outlets, but the place had been used before, though generally no more than once per season. The smell of blood from a major hunt tended to keep animals away until the snows of winter washed it clean again. But in anticipation of future use, fencing had been constructed across the outlets, and several of the hunters circled around to check on them and choose a vantage point from which to throw their spears. A wolf howl, not too bad an impression, Ayla thought, was the signal that all was ready. She had been warned and kept her arm around Wolf to restrain him in case he was tempted to respond. The loud caw of a crow was the return signal.
The rest of the hunters had been edging around the herd, trying not to disturb it too much, a difficult task with so many people. Ayla and Jondalar had stayed quite a ways back, not wanting the scent of the wolf to precipitate anything. They mounted the horses at the signal and started forward at a gallop, Wolf running alongside. As fast and powerful as a bull could be, aurochs were still herd animals and there were young among them. The sound of whoops and yells and the sight of unknown things being flapped at them was enough to spook them, and when one started running, others soon followed. With two humans on horseback getting surprisingly close with their flapping and shouting, and the scent of Wolf, the herd was soon stampeding blindly into the canyon.
The narrow constriction slowed them down as they piled up behind it, trying to get through. Amidst the dust of the bawling, bellowing, roaring herd, some of them tried to break out and go another way, any other way. The people and the horses and the wolf were everywhere, turning them back, but finally, one determined old bull had had enough. He stood his ground, pawed the earth, lowered his horns, and was hit with two swift spears cast from spear-throwers. He dropped to his knees, then tumbled to his side. By then, most were through, and the fence was closed. Then the slaughter began.
Spears of every description were flung at the trapped beasts, flint-tipped, sharpened bone or ivory-tipped, long and short. The hunters had to rotate behind the narrow gates that protected them from massive horns and sharp hooves. Some were hurled with spear-throwers, not just from Ayla’s and Jondalar’s spear-throwers. A few adventurous souls had been practicing and tried them out here, where a few misses wouldn’t hurt because the aurochs weren’t going anywhere except back to the breast of the Great Earth Mother in the world of the spirits.
In one morning, enough meat had been secured to last the entire Summer Meeting for some time, and for a large Matrimonial Feast besides. A messenger was sent back to the camp when the aurochs were in the trap, and a second large party left to help, and by the time the last animal was down, they rushed in to begin the butchering and preserving and storing.
There were several means of storage. Because of the closeness of the glaciers, and the permanently frozen layer that existed at variable depths below the surface, the underlying permafrost could be utilized as ice cellars to store fresh meat simply by digging holes in the ground. Fresh meat could also be stored in deep ponds or lakes, or the quiet backwaters of streams or rivers. Weighted down with rocks, and marked with long poles so it could be found and recovered later, meat could last a year with surprisingly little deterioration. Meat could also be dried to last several years. The problem with drying was that early summer was the season of blowflies, which could quickly spoil meat that was set out to dry in the sun and wind. Very smoky fires would keep off the worst of the insects, but it required constant supervision and monitoring in an unpleasantly smoky environment. It was necessary, however, to dry some of the meat for traveling food.
In addition to the meat, hides were extremely important. They were used for many things from implements and containers to clothing and shelters. Fat would be rendered for heat and light and sustenance; hair for fibers and stuffing, and warm clothing; tendons for sinew to make cordage and lashings for various constructions. Horns would be used to make containers, various devices such as hinges on panels, and even jewelry. Teeth were used as often for jewelry as they were for tools. Intestines could be made into waterproof coverings and clothing and casings for sausage and fat.
Bones had many uses. They could be made into utensils and plates, carvings and weapons, cracked for their nutritious marrow, or burned in hearths for fuel. Nothing would be wasted. Even the hooves and scraps of hides would be boiled for glues and adhesives, which had many uses. In combination with sinew, for example, it would help attach points to spears, handles to knives, and join composite spear shafts. It would also be used to join tough soles to softer foot coverings.
But first the animals had to be skinned, the parts separated out, and the meat stored, and it had to be done quickly. Guards were posted to keep away the thieves, the other carnivores more than willing to share in the kill by whatever means they could. Such a large concentration of slaughtered aurochs brought every other meat-eating animal in the vicinity. The slinking hyenas were the first ones Ayla saw. She had her sling out and almost without thinking signaled Whinney to go after the pack.
She had to dismount and get more stones, but the speed with which she dispatched them was reason enough to make both her and Jondalar guards. Almost anyone could butcher, even youngsters helped, but keeping away the carnivores took some effort and skill with weaponry. The pack of wolves caught Wolf’s attention. He was eager to drive off interlopers from the kill of his pack, but Ayla backed him up. The vicious, aggressive wolverines were worse. Two of them, probably male and female, together because it was their season, sprayed one cow with their musk glands. It smelled so bad that after they retrieved the spear to give credit to the hunter, several people hauled it off to let the wolverines fight over it between themselves and any other carnivore that wanted to try for it—no easy task, since wolverines were known to defend their kills against lions.
Ayla saw stoats, summer brown now, though come winter they would become ermines, entirely white weasels except for the black tips of their tails. She saw foxes and lynxes, and a spotted snow leopard, and at the periphery, casually observing it all, a pride of cave lions, the first she’d seen since she arrived. She paused to observe them. All cave lions were pale in color, usually light ivory, but these were almost white. At first she thought they were all females, but the behavior of one made her look twice. It was a male without a mane! When she asked Jondalar, he told her that cave lions in this region did not have manes; he’d been surprised by the eastern lions that did, though they were rather scraggly.
The skies above held their share of marauding meat-eaters waiting their chance to land or being chased away and flying off again. Vultures and eagles, expending little energy, floated on thermals, rising currents of warm air that supported their large outstretched wings. Kites and hawks and lammergeiers soared and dove, sometimes fighting with stately ravens and raucous crows. It was easier for small rodents and reptiles to scurry or slither in and hide from the humans, but the small predators were often prey themselves. Eventually, it would all be cleaned up by the smallest of them, the insects. But no matter how diligent the guards, all the meat-eaters would get a share before the aurochs could be completely butchered and stored, and though it wasn’t their primary goal, they didn’t mind that before they were through, they managed to secure a few distinctive furs as well.
A successful first hunt of the Summer Meeting was a lucky sign. It assured a good year for the Zelandonii and was considered especially fortunate for the couples who were about to be mated. The mating day would take place as soon as the meat and other products were brought back to camp and stashed so they would not spoil or be stolen by four-legged carnivores.
Once the excitement and work of the hunt were over, the attention of the Summer Meeting camp turned to the upcoming nuptials. Ayla could hardly wait, but she was also nervous. Jondalar felt the same way. They caught themselves looking at each other often, smiled almost shyly, and hoped that everything would go well.