In the mud at the edge of the small stream, Jondalar bent over Ayla. She was lying almost flat beside the large wolf, who was down on his side, holding his head in her hands. A torn bloody ear was staining the back of her hand. He tried to lick her face.
“It’s Wolf! He’s hurt!” Ayla said. The tears streaming down her face left white streaks through a muddy smudge on her cheek.
“What do you think happened to him?” Jondalar asked.
“I don’t know, but we’ve got to help him,” she said, sitting up. “We need to make a stretcher to carry him to camp.” Wolf tried to get up when she did, but fell back.
“Stay with him, Ayla. I’ll make a stretcher from those spear shafts I just cut,” Jondalar said.
When she and Jondalar brought him in, several people hurried over to see if they could help. It made Ayla understand how many people had come to care about the wolf.
“I’ll make a place for him in the lodge,” Marthona said, going in ahead of them.
“Is there anything I can do?” Joharran said. He had just returned to the camp.
“You can find out if Zelandoni has any comfrey left from Matagan’s injuries, also marigold petals. I think Wolf’s been in a fight with other wolves, and wounds from bites can be bad. They need strong medicine, and they have to be well cleaned,” Ayla said.
“Will you need to boil some water?” Willamar asked. She nodded. “I’ll get a fire going. It’s a good thing we just brought in a load of wood.”
When Joharran came back from the zelandonia lodge, Folara and Proleva were with him, and Zelandoni had said she would come by shortly. Before long the entire Summer Meeting knew that Ayla’s wolf was hurt, and most people were concerned.
Jondalar stayed with her while she examined the wolf and knew from her expression that his wounds were serious. She was sure he had been attacked by an entire pack, and she was surprised that he was still alive. She asked Proleva for a piece of aurochs meat, scraped it the way she did for baby food, then mixed it with ground datura and put it down his throat to help him relax and make him sleep.
“Jondalar, will you get some of that skin from the unborn calf of the aurochs I killed? I need soft absorbent hides to clean his wounds,” Ayla said.
Marthona watched her put roots and powders into various bowls of hot water, then handed her some material. “Zelandoni likes to use this,” she said.
Ayla looked at it. The soft material was not made from hides. It looked more like the finely woven material that the long tunic Marthona had given her was made of. She dipped it in the water of one of the bowls. The fabric absorbed it quickly. “This will do, very well, in fact. Thank you,” Ayla said.
Zelandoni arrived about the time that Jondalar and Joharran were helping her turn the wolf over so she could work on his other side. The First worked with Ayla to clean a particularly bad wound, then Ayla surprised several people when she threaded a thin piece of sinew through the small hole in her thread-puller and used it to sew the worst of the wounds together with some strategically placed knots. She had shown the ingenious device to several people, but no one had ever seen it used to sew living skin. She even sewed his torn ear, though it would still have a jagged edge.
“So that’s what you did to me,” Jondalar said with a grim smile.
“It does seem to help to hold the wound together so it can heal properly,” Zelandoni said. “Is that something you learned from your Clan medicine woman, too? To sew skin together?”
“No. Iza never did this. They don’t exactly sew, but they do knot things together. They like to use that sharp little bone that is in the lower foreleg of a deer as an awl to pierce holes in skins, and sinew after it’s partially dried and hard at the ends to poke through the holes, and then they tie it into knots. They make birch bark containers that way, too. It was when Jondalar’s wounds kept sliding apart and opening up even when I tried to wrap it tight to hold everything together that I wondered if I could make some knots that would keep his skin and muscles in the right place. So I tried it. It seemed to work, but I wasn’t sure how soon to take them out. I didn’t want the wounds to tear apart, but I didn’t want the knots to heal into his skin, either. I might have waited a little too long before I finally cut them. It probably hurt a little more than it should have when I pulled them out,” Ayla said.
“You mean that was the first time you sewed someone’s wound together?” Jondalar said. “You didn’t know if it would work, but you tried it out on me?” He laughed. “I’m glad you did. Except for the scars, you would hardly know I was mauled by that lion.”
“So you invented this technique to sew wounds,” Zelandoni said. “Only someone very skilled and with a natural aptitude for healing and medicine would think of something like that. Ayla, you belong in the zelandonia.”
Ayla looked unhappy. “But I don’t want to be in the zelandonia,” she said. “I … I appreciate … I mean … please don’t misunderstand me, I feel honored, but I just want to be mated to Jondalar and have his baby, and be a good Zelandonii woman.” She avoided looking at the donier.
“Please, don’t you misunderstand me,” the woman said. “It wasn’t an offhand offer, made lightly with only a moment’s thought, like a casual invitation to a meal. I said you belong in the zelandonia. I have thought so for some time. A person with your skill needs to associate with others who have a similar level of knowledge. You like being a healer, don’t you?”
“I am a medicine woman. I cannot change that,” Ayla said.
“Of course you are, that’s not the issue,” the First said. “But among the Zelandonii only those who belong to the zelandonia are healers. People would not be comfortable with a healer who is not. You would not be called upon when a healer is needed if you are not in the zelandonia. You would not be able to be a medicine woman, as you call it. Why do you resist the zelandonia?”
“You’ve talked about all that must be learned, and the time that it takes. How can I be a good mate to Jondalar and take care of my children if I have to spend so much time learning to be a Zelandoni?” Ayla said.
“There are Those Who Serve The Mother who are mated and have children. You yourself told me about the one across the glacier with a mate and several children, and you have met Zelandoni of the Second Cave,” the woman said. “There are others.”
“But not very many,” Ayla said.
The First observed the young woman closely and was convinced there was more to it than Ayla was saying. Her reasons weren’t in character. She was an excellent healer, and she was curious, learned quickly, and obviously enjoyed it. She wouldn’t neglect a mate and children, and if there were times that she had to be away, there would always be someone who would help her. If anything, she was almost too attentive. Look how much time she devoted to those animals, but she was usually available and always willing to help whenever anything needed to be done, and she took on more than was required.
The First had been impressed with the way she got everyone involved in helping Lanoga to care for her youngest sister and the other children. And the way she was helping the boy with the deformed arm. Those were the kinds of things that a good Zelandoni did. She had naturally assumed the role. The donier decided that she was going to have to discover her real problem, because one way or another, the First was determined that Ayla was going to be One Who Served The Great Earth Mother. She had to be brought in, it could pose too great a threat to the stability of the zelandonia to have someone with her knowledge and innate skills outside of their influence.
People smiled when they saw the wolf with bandages tied on him, made of Marthona’s fiber material and soft hides, as he walked beside Ayla through the main camp. It made Wolf almost seem to be dressed in human clothing, and he seemed to be a caricature of a fierce, wild meat-eater. Many stopped to ask how he was, or to offer the opinion that he was looking good. But he stayed very close to Ayla. He was so unhappy the first time she left him behind that he howled, then broke loose and found her. Some of the Story-Tellers had already begun to weave tales about the wolf who loved the woman.
She had to train him all over again to stay where she told him. He finally did begin to feel comfortable staying with Jondalar, or Marthona, or Folara, but he also felt defensive about the territory of the camp of the Ninth Cave, and she had to retrain him not to threaten visitors. People, especially those who were close to her, were amazed at Ayla’s seemingly unlimited patience with the animal, but they also saw the results. Many of them had thought that it might be interesting to have a wolf that obeyed commands, but they weren’t sure it was worth the time and effort. It did make them understand, though, that her control of her animals wasn’t magic.
Ayla was beginning to relax, thinking that he was finally getting comfortable with casual visitors again, until a young man—she heard him introduced as Palidar of the Eleventh Cave—came to visit Willamar’s apprentice trader, Tivonan. When Wolf got close to him, he began to growl and bare his fangs with real menace. She had to hold him to keep him down, and even then, he growled under his breath. The young man backed away in fear, and she apologized profusely. Willamar, Tivonan, and several others who were standing around watching were surprised.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with him. I thought he was over being defensive about his territory. Wolf doesn’t usually behave like this, but he’s had some trouble and he is still getting over it,” Ayla said.
“I heard he was hurt,” the young man said.
Then she noticed that he wore a necklace of wolf teeth and carried a pack decorated with wolf fur. “Can I ask where you got the wolf fur?” she asked.
“Well … most people think I went out and hunted wolf, but I’ll tell you the truth. I found it. I actually found two wolves, and they must have been in a big fight because they were really torn up. One was a black female, the other, a normal gray wolf, was male. I took the teeth first, and then decided to salvage some of the fur.”
“And you’ve got the gray male on your pack,” Ayla said. “Now I think I understand. Wolf must have been in that same fight, that’s how he got hurt. I knew that he’d found a friend, probably the black female. He’s still young, and I don’t think he was actually mating yet. He cannot yet count two years, but they were getting to know each other. She was either the lowest-ranked female of the local pack or a lone wolf from another pack.”
“How do you know that?” Tivonan asked. Several more people were now gathered around them, listening.
“Wolves like wolves to look like wolves. I think they can read each other’s expressions better if they have normal wolf coloring. Wolves that are out of the ordinary, all black, or all white, or spotted, are not accepted as well—except I was told by some Mamutoi friends that where there is a lot of snow all year long, white wolves are more normal. But the odd one, like that black wolf, is often the lowest ranked in a pack, so she probably left them and became a lone wolf. Lone wolves usually move on the fringes in between other wolves’ territories, looking for a place of their own, and if they find another lone wolf, they may try to establish their own pack. My guess is that the wolves of this region were defending their territory against the two new ones,” Ayla said. “And though he’s big, Wolf was at a disadvantage. He only knows people. He was not raised around wolves. He would know some things, just because he is a wolf, but he never had brothers and sisters, or aunts and uncles, other wolves to teach him what wolves learn from each other.”
“How do you know all that?” Palidar asked.
“I watched wolves for many years. When I was learning to hunt, I only hunted meat-eaters, not food animals. I’d like to ask you a favor, Palidar,” Ayla said. “Can I trade with you for that wolf fur? I think the reason Wolf is growling and threatening you is that he smells the wolf he fought with, at least one of them, and he likely killed that one. But they also killed his friend and almost killed him. It could be a danger for you to wear it around him. You should never come here with it because I don’t know what Wolf would do.”
“Why don’t I just give it to you,” the young man said. “It’s only a scrap of fur sewn on my pack loosely. I don’t want to go down in songs and stories as the man who was attacked by the wolf who loved the woman. Is it all right if I keep the teeth? They have some value.”
“Yes, keep the teeth, but I’d suggest that you soak them in a light-colored strong tea for a few days. And would you show me where you found the wolves?”
After the young man gave Ayla the offending piece of wolf fur, she gave it to Wolf. He attacked it, pounced on it, grabbed it with his teeth, and shook it, trying to tear it apart. It would have been funny if the people watching hadn’t been aware of how seriously he had been injured, and that his friend or potential mate had been killed. Instead they sympathized with the wolf, attributing to him the feelings they would have experienced in a similar situation.
“I’m glad I’m not still attached to that,” Palidar said.
He and Ayla made arrangements to go to the place where he found the wolves later, they both had other plans at the moment. She wasn’t sure what she expected to find, scavengers would have disposed of everything by now, but as hurt as he was, she wondered how far Wolf had traveled to find her. After Palidar left, she thought about the songs and stories he had mentioned about the wolf who loved the woman.
She had visited the camp of the Story-Tellers and Musicians. It was a lively, colorful place, even their clothing seemed to have brighter hues. They were not all from one place, they had no stone shelter of their own, only their traveling tents and lodges. They traveled from place to place, staying for a while with one Cave and then with another, but it was obvious that they all knew one another and felt a kinship. There always seemed to be children at their place. Just as they did during the rest of the year, they visited the various Caves, but at their Summer Meeting camps rather than their shelters. They also gave general performances on the level area where the Matrimonial had been held, while people watched from the slope.
She knew the Story-Tellers had begun to tell stories about the animals at the Ninth Cave. Sometimes they were about how useful the animals could be, such as how the horses could carry heavy loads, or about Wolf helping her hunt by flushing out animals like the bird during the spear-thrower demonstration. There was a new story about how he helped her to find the new cave, but the stories of the Story-Tellers tended to have some supernatural or magical element in them. In their stories, Wolf hunted not because she had trained him, but because they had a special understanding, which was true, they did, but that wasn’t why they hunted together. The story about the wolf who loved the woman had already become one of a man who became a wolf when he visited the spirit world, then forgot to change back into a man when he returned to this world.
The stories had already been told and retold many times and were on their way to being incorporated into the lore and legends of the people. Some Story-Tellers invented other stories about animals that were kept by people, or sometimes turned them about so that people were kept by animals. They sometimes became animal spirits, who helped people. They would, in all likelihood, be passed down for generations to come, keeping alive the idea that animals could be trained, or tamed, or kept, and not just hunted.
“Wolf will be fine with Folara,” Jondalar said. “He’s fine with visitors, and visitors are becoming more careful, making sure someone from the Ninth Cave knows they are coming. He won’t suddenly turn on someone, we know why he was so aggressive toward Palidar. He’s been through a difficult time, and it’s bound to change him, but he’s still basically the same Wolf that you have loved and trained since he was a tiny pup. I don’t think we should take him to the meeting, though. You know how people get excited, and it could get rancorous. Wolf would not like to see people shouting or carrying on, especially if you are there and he thinks you are being threatened.”
“Who will be there?” Ayla asked.
“Mostly the leaders and the zelandonia, and those people who have spoken out against Echozar,” Joharran said.
“That means Brukeval, Laramar, and Marona,” Ayla said. “None of them are friends.”
“It gets worse,” Jondalar said. “The Zelandoni of the Fifth Cave, and Madroman, his acolyte, who is certainly not my best friend, will also be there. And Denanna of the Twenty-ninth Cave, though I’m not sure why she made complaints.”
“I don’t think she likes the idea of animals living around people. You remember when we stopped there on the way here, she did not want the animals to come up to her shelter,” Ayla said, “though I was just as glad to camp down on the field.”
When they arrived at the zelandonia lodge, the drape was opened before they could announce their presence and they were ushered in. In a passing thought, Ayla wondered how they always seemed to know when she was coming, whether she was expected or not.
“Have you met the new member of the Ninth Cave?” Zelandoni said. She was speaking to the pleasant-looking woman with a conciliatory smile, but whom Ayla sensed had an underlying strength.
“I was at the introduction, of course, and the Matrimonial, but I haven’t met her personally,” the woman said.
“This is Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, mated to Jondalar of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, Son of Marthona, former Leader of the Ninth Cave, formerly Ayla of the Mamutoi, Member of the Lion Camp, Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth, Chosen by the Spirit of the Cave Lion, and Protected by the Cave Bear,” Zelandoni said, making the formal introduction.
“Ayla, this is Zelandoni of the Twenty-ninth Cave.”
She greeted the woman, but it came as a surprise to hear such a short formal introduction. It was, however, all that was necessary. As Zelandoni, she had given up her personal identity and had become the embodiment of the Twenty-ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, although if she had wished, the introduction could have included the person she formerly was, including her original name and all her previous ties. It just seemed unnecessary most of the time, since she was no longer that person.
Ayla thought about her most recent acquisition of names and ties. She liked the way Zelandoni had introduced her. She had become Ayla of the Zelandonii, and Jondalar’s mate, and that came first, but she had been Ayla of the Mamutoi, she hadn’t lost her connections to them, ties that meant so much to her. And she was still “Chosen by the Spirit of the Cave Lion, and Protected by the Cave Bear.” It pleased her that even her totem and her Clan connections were included.
When she first arrived and heard the long recitations of names and ties in the formal Zelandonii introductions, Ayla wondered, very privately and only to herself, why they made such extended, almost interminable introductions, full of unknown names and connections. Why not simplify it and just say the names that people were usually called—Jondalar, Marthona, Proleva. But she had been so pleased to hear her familiar connections mentioned, she was glad now for the Zelandonii way of including past references. She had once thought of herself as Ayla of No People, alone with only a horse and a lion for company. Now she had ties to many people, and she was mated and expecting a child.
She had one more passing thought as she turned her attention back to the people at the meeting. She wished she could include “Mother of Durc of the Clan” in her names and ties, but considering the reason for this meeting, and recalling the night of their mating, and the disruptions that Echozar’s appearance had made, she wasn’t sure if she could ever tell the Zelandonii about her son, Durc.
When the First moved to the center of the lodge, it soon became quiet. “I will begin by saying that this meeting will not change anything. Joplaya and Echozar are mated, and only they can change that. But there seems to be an undercurrent of nasty rumors and general ill will toward them, which I think is shameful. It makes me less than proud to be a Zelandoni of people who could be so heartless to two young people who are just beginning their lives together. Dalanar, the man of Joplaya’s hearth, and I decided to bring this matter out in the open. If some people have sincere complaints, this is the time to make them known,” the donier said.
There was some shuffling around and avoidance of looking directly at people. It was clear that there was some embarrassment, especially among those who had listened avidly and perhaps passed on some item of malicious gossip. Even temporal and spiritual leaders were not above such human failings. No one seemed to want to broach the matter, as though it were too foolish to even bring up, and the First was ready to go on to the next reason for the meeting.
Laramar could see the moment he had been agitating for was slipping away, and he had been one of the primary instigators of the discontent. “It is true, isn’t it, that Echozar’s mother was a flathead,” he said.
The look the First gave him was a combination of disdain and irritation. “He has never denied it,” she said.
“That means he’s a child of mixed spirits, and a child of mixed spirits is an abomination. That makes him an abomination,” Laramar said.
“Who told you that a child of mixed spirits is an abomination?” the Zelandoni Who Was First asked.
Laramar frowned and looked around. “Everybody knows that.”
“How do they know that?” the First asked.
“Because people say so,” he said.
“What people say so?” she pressed.
“Everybody,” he said.
“If everybody said the sun will not rise tomorrow morning, would that make it so?” the donier asked.
“Well, no. But people have always said so,” Laramar said.
“I think I remember hearing it from the zelandonia,” one of the onlookers said.
The First glanced around to look at the person who had spoken; she had recognized the voice. “Are you saying it is a teaching of the zelandonia that a child of mixed spirits is an abomination, Marona?”
“Well, yes,” she said defiantly. “I’m sure I heard it from the zelandonia.”
“Marona, did you know that even a beautiful woman can look ugly when she lies?” the First said.
Marona flushed and glared at the First with a malicious look. Several people turned to stare at her to see if what the First said was true, and some of them agreed that the spiteful expression on the young woman’s face did detract from her recognized beauty. She looked away, but mumbled under her breath, “How would you know, you fat old woman!”
Several people nearby heard her and gasped at the insult to the First Among Those Who Served The Great Earth Mother. Ayla, who was on the other side of the large room, caught her breath, too, but her hearing was almost supernaturally acute. A few others had heard Marona, among them the First, whose hearing was rather good as well.
“Look closely at this fat old woman, Marona, and remember that, like you, I was once considered the most beautiful woman at the Summer Meeting. Beauty is at most a fleeting Gift. Use it wisely while you have it, young woman, because when it’s gone, you will be very unhappy if you don’t have something else. I have never regretted the loss of beauty, because what I have gained in knowledge and experience is much more satisfying,” the One Who Was First said.
Then she continued to the rest of the group, “Marona has said, and Laramar has implied, that it is taught by the zelandonia that children who are born as the result of the blending of the spirits of one of us with one of those whom we call flatheads are abominations. In the past few days, I have gone into deep meditation and recalled all the Histories and Elder Legends, and all the lore that is known only to the zelandonia, to try to find out where this idea came from, because Laramar is right in one respect. It is something that ‘everybody’ thinks they know.” She paused and looked around the gathering. “That idea has never been a teaching of the zelandonia.”
The zelandonia had been very quiet when they saw her meditating in solitude with her chest plaque turned around so that the carvings and decorations were hidden and only the plain side showed, meaning she did not want to be interrupted. Now they knew why.
There was an undercurrent of conversation. “But they’re animals.” “They aren’t even human.” “They are related to bears.”
The Zelandoni of the Fourteenth Cave spoke out. “The Mother is appalled by such a mixture.”
“They are an abomination,” Denanna, the leader of the Twenty-ninth Cave, said. “We’ve always known that.”
Madroman whispered to the Zelandoni of the Fifth Cave, “Denanna is right. They are half human, half animal.”
The First waited until things quieted down. “Think about where you heard those things. Try to recall even one instance in the lore of the zelandonia, or the Histories and Elder Legends of the Zelandonii, where it specifically mentions that the children of mixed spirits are abominations, or even that the flatheads are animals. I am not talking about innuendos or suggestions, but specific references,” she said.
She let them think for a while, then continued. “In fact, if you think about it clearly, you would know that the Mother would never be appalled, or want us to think of them as abominations. They are children of the Mother, just as we are. After all, who is it that selects a man’s spirit to blend with the spirit of a woman? It doesn’t happen often, we don’t associate much with flatheads, but if the Mother sometimes decides to create a new life by blending the elan of a flathead with the elan of a Zelandonii, that is Her choice. It is not for Her children to disparage those offspring. The Great Earth Mother decided to create them, perhaps for a special reason. Echozar is not an abomination. Echozar is born of woman, as we all are. The fact that his mother was a woman of the Clan doesn’t make him less a child of the Great Mother. If he and Joplaya have chosen each other, then Doni is pleased, and we should be, too.”
There was another commotion, but the First heard no actual denials and decided to move on. “The other reason for having this gather is that Joharran wants to talk about the ones we call flatheads, but first I think you should learn more about them from someone who can speak from experience. Ayla was raised by the ones we know as flatheads, but that she knows as people of the Clan. Ayla, will you come here and tell us about them.”
Ayla got up and walked toward the First. Her stomach was queasy and her mouth felt dry. She wasn’t used to speaking formally to a group of people and she didn’t know where to start, so she just began where her memories began.
“I was a five-year, I think, as close as I can guess, when I lost the family I was born to. I don’t remember most of this very well, but I think it was an earthquake that took them. I dream about it sometimes. I guess I wandered alone for a while, I’m sure I didn’t know where to go or what to do. I don’t know how long I had been alone when I was chased by a cave lion. I think I hid in a small cave, very small, because a cave lion reached in to try to get me and scratched my leg. I still have the scars, four lines from his claws on my leg. My earliest real memory is opening my eyes and seeing Iza, a woman of those you would call flatheads. I remember screaming at the sight of her. Her response was to hold me in her arms until I quieted.”
People were immediately caught up in the story of an orphaned girl who could count only five years. She explained that the home of the clan that found her had been destroyed by the same earthquake, and they were looking for a new one when they came across her. She told them that they knew that she was not Clan, but one of the Others, the word they used for people like her, and she talked about being adopted by the medicine woman of Brun’s clan, and her brother, Creb, who was a great mog-ur, which was like a Zelandoni. As she continued, she forgot her nervousness and just spoke naturally, with all of the emotion and genuine feelings about her life with the people who called themselves the Clan of the Cave Bear.
She didn’t hold back anything, not the difficulties she had with Broud, who was the son of the mate of the leader, Brun, or her joy in learning medicine from Iza. She talked about her love for Creb and Iza, and her Clan sister, Uba, and about her curiosity when she picked up the sling for the first time. She told how she taught herself to use it, and several years later, the consequences for doing so. She hesitated only when it came to talking about her son. For all the First’s logical and high-minded argument about the Clan being children of the Mother, too, she could tell from the expressions and body language of several people, especially those who had made objections to Echozar mating Joplaya, that their feelings had not changed. They had just decided that it might be best to keep them to themselves for the time being. Ayla thought it might be best to refrain from mentioning, too.
She told them about being forced to leave the Clan when Broud became leader, and though she tried to explain what a death curse was, she didn’t think they fully understood the real power of its coercive force. It did literally cause the death of individual members of the Clan if they had no place to go and no one, not even their dearest loved ones, would acknowledge that they even existed. She spoke only briefly about her time in the valley, but talked in more detail about Rydag, the mixed child that was adopted by Nezzie, the mate of the headman of the Lion Camp.
“Unlike Echozar, he did not have the strength of the Clan, and he was weak internally, but like the Clan, he could not make certain sounds. I taught him and Nezzie, and then the rest of the Lion Camp, and Jondalar, to communicate with hand signs. It made Nezzie very happy the first time he called her ‘mother,’ ” Ayla ended.
Then Jondalar came forward and told the story of how he and his brother Thonolan met some men of the Clan shortly after they got across the plateau glacier on the highland to the east. Then he told the funny story on himself about catching only half a fish because he shared the other half with a young man of the Clan. He also explained the circumstances that led to their spending a few nights with the Clan couple Guban and Yorga, and of “talking” to them in the sign language Ayla had taught him.
“If there is one thing I learned on my Journey,” Jondalar said, “it is that the ones we have always called flatheads are people, intelligent people. They are no more animals than you or me. Their ways may be different, their intelligence may even be different, but it is not less. It is just different. There are some things we can do that they can’t, but there are also some things they can do that we can’t.”
Then Joharran stood up and talked about his concerns and working out new ways to deal with them. Finally, Willamar talked about the possibility of trading with them. Afterward there were many questions, and the discussion went on for a long time. It was a revelation to the zelandonia and the Zelandonii leaders. Some found it difficult to believe, but most listened with an open mind. It seemed obvious that Ayla’s story was true; not even the best Story-Teller could have made up a tale that was so convincing. And it revealed the Clan as humane, even if some didn’t want to believe they were human. Nothing was resolved, but it gave everyone something to think about.
The First stood then to end the meeting. “I think we have all learned some things of importance,” she said. “I appreciate Ayla’s willingness to come here and talk to us so freely about her unusual experiences. She has given us a rare insight into the life of people who may be strange, but who were willing to take in a child they knew was different and treat her as one of their own. Some of us have felt fear if we happened to see a flathead when we were out hunting or collecting something. It seems that fear is misplaced if they were willing to take in someone who is lost and alone.”
“Do you think that means that they took in that woman from the Ninth Cave who was lost some time ago?” said the white-haired Zelandoni of the Nineteenth Cave. “If I recall correctly, she was pregnant when she returned. The Mother may have decided to Bless her when she was with the flatheads, and used the spirit of one of them to—”
“No! That’s not true! My mother was not an abomination!” Brukeval cried out.
“That’s right. Your mother was not an abomination,” Ayla said. “That’s what we’ve been trying to say. None of those with mixed spirits is an abomination.”
“My mother was not of mixed spirits,” he said. “That’s why she was not an abomination.” He looked at her with such loathing, Ayla had to turn her head aside to avoid the force of his glare. Then he stalked out.
There were no more discussions. People got up and started leaving. On the way out, the One Who Was First noticed Marona looking at her in a rude and insolent way, then she overheard Laramar talking with Zelandoni of the Fifth Cave and his acolyte, Madroman.
“How can Jondalar’s hearth be among the first?” he asked. “The excuse was that she had such a high ranking among the Mamutoi, the people she supposedly came from, that it shouldn’t be lowered here, but she doesn’t even know what people she was actually born to. If she was raised by flatheads, then she’s more flathead than Mamutoi. Tell me what rank a flathead has? She should have been last, but now she’s among the first. I don’t think it’s right.”
After the long and grueling session, which ended with such a vehement outburst, Ayla felt wrung out. She supposed it must be disturbing for people to suddenly learn that creatures they had thought of as animals were actually thinking, caring people. It was a radical change, and change never came easy, but Brukeval’s reaction was irrational, and his glare so full of malice, he scared her.
Jondalar suggested they get the horses and go for a ride to get away from everyone and relax after the unsettling events that ended the meeting. Ayla was happy to see Wolf loping along beside them again and no longer wearing bandages, though he wasn’t entirely healed yet.
“I tried not to show it, but I was so angry at those people who objected to their mating because Echozar’s mother was Clan,” Ayla said. “And though Zelandoni and Dalanar asked for a special meeting, I don’t think anything was settled. At the Matrimonial, I think the only reason some of them agreed was because they were not Zelandonii. They call themselves ‘Lanzadonii,’ but I can’t see any difference. What is the difference, Jondalar?”
“In one sense, Zelandonii just means us, the People, the children of the Great Earth Mother, but so does Lanzadonii. The actual meaning of Zelandonii would be Earth’s Children of the Southwest, and Lanzadonii, Earth’s Children of the Northeast,” Jondalar explained.
“Why didn’t Dalanar just continue to call himself Zelandonii and make his people another Cave with the next higher counting word?” Ayla asked.
“I don’t know. I never asked him. Maybe because they live so far away. It’s not like you can get there in an afternoon, or even in a day or two. I think he knows that while there may always be ties, someday they will be different people. Now that he has his own Zelandoni, or rather, Lanzadoni, he has even less reason to make the long trip to our Summer Meetings. Probably their doniers will still be trained by the zelandonia for quite a while, but as they continue to grow, they will begin to train their own.”
“They will be like the Losadunai,” Ayla said. “The language, and ways, are so close to Zelandonii, they must have been the same people once.”
“I think you’re right, and that may be why we are still such good friends with them. We don’t count them in our names and ties, but there may have been a time when we did,” Jondalar said.
“I wonder how long it has been. There are many differences now, even in the words of their Mother’s Song,” Ayla said. They rode a little farther. “If the Zelandonii and the Lanzadonii are the same people, why did the ones who objected to Joplaya mating Echozar finally go along with it? Just because their name says they live in the northeast? It’s not reasonable. But then, their objection was not reasonable in the first place.”
“Look who was behind it,” Jondalar said. “Laramar! Why is he trying to stir up trouble? You’ve done nothing but try to help his family. Lanoga adores you, and I doubt if Lorala would even be alive today if you hadn’t stepped in. I wonder if he really cares or just likes the attention. I don’t think he has ever been invited to a special meeting like that with all high-status people, several of them, including the First, presenting the case to him and the few others who were making an issue out of it. Now that Laramar has a taste of it, I’m afraid he is going to keep on making problems, just to keep getting attention. But I still don’t understand Brukeval, of all people. He knows Dalanar and Joplaya, he’s even kin.”
“Did you know that Matagan’s mother told me Brukeval was at the camp of the Fifth Cave trying to convince some people to make an objection to Joplaya’s mating before the Matrimonial?” Ayla said. “He has a strong feeling against the Clan, but seeing him and Echozar together, you can see the resemblance. There is a cast to his features that is definitely Clan, not as strong as Echozar’s, but it is there. I think he hates me now because I said his mother was born of mixed spirits, but I was just trying to say that people who are mixed are not bad, not abominations.”
“He must still think they are. That’s why he tries so hard to deny it. It must be terrible to hate what you are,” Jondalar said. “You can’t change that. It’s funny. Echozar hates the Clan, too. Why do they hate the people that they are a part of?”
“Maybe it’s because other people hurt them because of who they are, and they can’t hide it because they actually do look different,” Ayla said. “But the way Brukeval glared at me before he left was so full of hate, he frightens me. He reminds me a little of Attaroa, as though there is something not right with him. As though there is something wrong or deformed about him, like Lanidar with his arm, but on the inside.”
“Maybe some evil spirit has gotten inside of him, or his elan is twisted,” Jondalar said. “I don’t know, but perhaps you should watch out for Brukeval, Ayla. He may try to make more trouble for you.”