When Ayla returned, Wolf was waiting at the edge of the Summer Meeting Camp to greet her. He had somehow known she was coming. “Where’s Jonayla, Wolf? Find her for me.” The animal dashed out in front of her, then turned to look back and make sure she was following him.
He led her directly to Proleva, who was at the camp of the Third Cave, nursing Jonayla. “Ayla! You’re back! If I’d known you were coming, I would have held off. I’m afraid she’s full now,” the woman said.
Ayla took her child and tried to nurse her, but the infant just wasn’t hungry, which seemed to make Ayla’s breasts ache even more. “Has Sethona nursed? I’m full, too. Full of milk.”
“Stelona was helping me today, and she always has plenty of milk, even though her baby is eating some regular food. She offered to feed Sethona not long ago when I was talking to Zelandoni about the Matrimonial. Since I knew I’d be feeding Jonayla soon, I thought that would be perfect. I just didn’t know when you would be back, Ayla.”
“I didn’t either,” Ayla said. “I’ll see if I can find someone else who needs milk, and thank you for taking care of Jonayla today.”
Walking toward the big zelandonia lodge, Ayla saw Lanoga carrying Lorala on her hip. Three-year Ganamar, the next to the youngest in the family, was holding on to her tunic with one hand, the thumb of his other hand firmly in his mouth. Ayla hoped that Lorala might want to nurse; she was usually ready anytime. When she mentioned it, Lanoga told her, much to her relief, that she was looking for someone to feed the child.
They sat on one of several logs with seating pads on them that were arranged around a darkened fireplace outside the entrance of the big lodge and Ayla gratefully took the older baby in exchange for her own. Wolf sat down near Jonayla, and Ganamar plopped down beside him. All the children of Laramar’s hearth were comfortable around the animal, though Laramar was not. He still tensed up and backed away when the big wolf came near him.
Ayla had to wipe her breast off before she could nurse the child; the wet mud had soaked through. While Ayla was feeding Lorala, Jondalar returned from an afternoon of spear-throwing practice and Lanidar was with him. He smiled shyly at her and more warmly at Lanoga. Ayla gave him a quick appraising look. He was a twelve-year now, close to a thirteen-year, and he’d grown quite a bit in the past year. Even more in self-confidence, she noticed. He was taller and he wore a unique spear-thrower holder, a kind of harness that she could see accommodated his deformed right arm. It also held a quiver of several of the specialized spears that were used with a spear-thrower, which were shorter and lighter than the usual spears meant to be cast by hand, more like long darts tipped with sharp flint. His well-developed left arm looked almost as strong as a grown man’s, and she suspected he had been practicing with the weapon.
Lanidar was also wearing a manhood belt with a red fringe, a narrow finger-woven strip of various colors and fibers. Some were natural vegetal colors like ivory flax, beige dogbane, and taupe nettles. Others were the natural fibers of animal fur, usually the dense, long coat of winterkills like white mouflon, gray ibex, dark red mammoth, and black horsetail. Most of the fibers could also be dyed to change or intensify the natural colors. The belt not only announced that he had reached physical maturity and was ready for a donii-woman and manhood rites, but the designs indicated his affiliations. Ayla was able to identify the symbolism that proclaimed he was of the Nineteenth Cave of the Zelandonii, though she couldn’t yet identify his primary names and ties by their distinctive patterns.
The first time Ayla had seen a manhood belt, she had thought it was beautiful. She’d had no way then of knowing its meaning, however, when Marona, the woman who had expected to mate Jondalar, tried to embarrass her by tricking her into wearing it, along with the winter undergarments of a young man. She still thought the belt ties were beautiful, though they reminded her of the unpleasant incident. She had, however, kept the soft buckskin garments the woman had given her. Ayla wasn’t born to the Zelandonii, and in spite of their intended use, she didn’t have the ingrained culture-driven sense that they were inappropriate. They were comfortably soft suede leather, velvety to the touch, and she decided she would wear them sometimes, after she made some adjustments to the leggings and tunic so they fit her womanly shape better.
People of the Ninth Cave looked at her strangely the first time she wore the undergarments of a young man as casual outer clothing in warm weather to go hunting, but they got used to it. After a while she noticed that some of the younger women started wearing similar clothing. But it embarrassed and angered Marona when Ayla wore them, because she was reminded that her trick had not been appreciated by the Ninth Cave. Instead they felt that she had disgraced them by treating the foreigner, who was destined to become one of them, so maliciously. Distressing Marona had not been Ayla’s original intention when she first wore teenage boy’s undergarments publicly, but the woman’s reaction was not lost on her.
As Ayla and Lanoga exchanged babies again, several laughing young men approached, most of them wearing manhood belts and several of them carrying spear-throwers. Jondalar attracted people wherever he went, but young men in particular looked up to him and liked to cluster around him. She was pleased to note that they greeted Lanidar in a friendly way. Since he had developed such skill with the new weapon, his deformed arm no longer caused the other young men to avoid him. She was also pleased to note that Bologan was among them, though he lacked both a manhood belt and a spear-thrower of his own. She knew Jondalar had made several of the hunting weapons for people to practice.
Ayla knew that both men and women went to the practice spear-throwing sessions that Jondalar had begun to hold, but although the two genders were very aware of each other, the young men liked to socialize with their age-mates who were going through the same stage of development and looking forward to the same rituals, and young women tended to avoid the “boys with belts.” Most of the young men glanced at Lanoga but pretended to ignore her, except Bologan. He did look at his sister and she looked back, and though they didn’t smile or nod a greeting, it was an acknowledgment.
The boys all smiled at Ayla in spite of her mud-caked clothing, most of them shyly, but a couple were more bold in their appraisal of the beautiful older woman whom Jondalar had brought home and mated. Donii-women were invariably older and knew how to handle cocky boys trying to be men, to keep them in check without discouraging them too much. The impudent smile of some whom she hadn’t met before was exchanged for a fleeting expression of apprehension when Wolf got up at her signal.
“Have you spoken to Proleva yet about the plans for tonight?” Jondalar asked Ayla as she started toward the camp of the Ninth Cave. He smiled at the baby and tickled her, and received a delighted giggle in return.
“No. I just returned from the new Sacred Cave the First wanted me to see, and then went to find Jonayla. I’ll ask her after I change,” Ayla said, as they touched cheeks. A couple of the young men, primarily the ones who were nervous about Wolf, looked surprised when Ayla spoke; it proclaimed her distant origins.
“Your clothes really are coated with mud,” Jondalar said, wiping his hand on his pants after touching her.
“The cave had a very wet clay floor, and we had to crawl like a snake most of the time. The mud is cold and heavy, too. That’s why I have to change.”
“I’ll walk back with you,” Jondalar said; he hadn’t seen Ayla all day. He took Jonayla in his arms so she would not get full of mud.
When Ayla found Proleva again, she learned that the Ninth Cave, along with the Third Cave—at the Third’s camp—were hosting a meeting of the leaders of the rest of the Caves, and their assistants, who were at this Summer Meeting. All their families would join them for the evening meal. Proleva had organized the preparation, which included some people to care for children so their mothers could help.
Ayla signaled Wolf to come along. She noticed one or two women who looked uneasily at the carnivore, but was glad to see several people who recognized and welcomed Wolf, knowing what a help he could be in watching over them. Lanoga stayed to help mind the children; Ayla returned to see what Proleva wanted her to do.
In the course of the evening, she did stop to nurse Jonayla, but there was so much work to do to prepare and cook the large feast, she hardly had the chance to hold her infant until after everyone ate, and then she was summoned to the zelandonia lodge. She took Jonayla with her, and signaled Wolf to follow.
It was late and dark outside as she walked toward the large summer lodge along a path that had been laid with a paving of flat stones. She carried a torch, though light from various fireplaces lit her way reasonably well. She left the torch outside, propped up in a pile of rocks constructed to hold hot torches. Inside, a small fire near the edge of a larger fire ring and a few flickering lamps scattered here and there were glowing softly but gave scant illumination. Little could be seen beyond the lambent flames in the fireplace. She thought she heard someone snoring softly on the other side of the shelter, but she only saw Jonokol and the First. They were just within the circle of light, sipping cups of steaming tea.
Without interrupting their conversation, the First nodded to Ayla and motioned for her to sit. Glad to finally have a chance to relax in quiet and comfort, she gratefully settled down on a well-stuffed seating cushion, one of several scattered around the fireplace, and began to nurse her child while she listened. Wolf sat down beside them. He was welcome inside the zelandonia lodge, most of the time. Ayla had been gone for some time during the day and he didn’t want to leave her or Jonayla.
“What was your impression of the cave?” the large woman said, directing her comment to the young man.
“It is very small, hardly big enough to squeeze through in places, but quite long. An interesting cave,” Jonokol said.
“Do you believe it is sacred?” she asked.
“Yes, I do believe it is.”
The First nodded. She hadn’t doubted the Zelandoni of the Twenty-sixth Cave, but it was nice to have a corroborating opinion.
“And Ayla found her Voice,” Jonokol added, smiling at Ayla, who was listening to the conversation, unconsciously rocking in a desultory fashion as she nursed her child.
“She did?” the older woman said.
“Yes,” Jonokol said with a smile. “The Twenty-sixth asked her to test the cave, and was surprised when she said she couldn’t sing or play a flute or do anything to test it. His acolyte, Falithan, sings a strong, high-pitched ululating wail that’s very unique. Then I suddenly remembered Ayla’s birdcalls and reminded her that she could whistle like a bird, and whinny like a horse, even roar like a lion. So she did. All of them. Amazed the Twenty-sixth, too, especially that roar. Her test substantiated the cave. When the roar came back, it was diminished, but clear, more than audible, but seemed to be coming from a very distant place. The other place.”
“What did you think, Ayla?” the First asked, as she poured a cup of tea and handed it to Jonokol to give to her. She had noted that the infant had stopped nursing and had fallen asleep in Ayla’s arms with a dribble of milk running down the side of her mouth.
“It’s a difficult cave to get into, and long, but not complicated. It could be frightening, especially where it narrows down to some very tight passages, but no one could get lost in it,” Ayla said.
“From the way you describe this new cave, it makes me think that it might be especially good for young acolytes who want to test themselves, to find out if the life of a Zelandoni is actually for them. If they are afraid of a small dark place that offers no real danger, I doubt that they could handle some of the other ordeals that truly can be perilous,” the Woman Who Was First said.
It made Ayla wonder what some of those ordeals might be. She had been in enough risky situations in her life already; she wasn’t sure if she wanted to face more, but perhaps she should wait and see what would be asked of her.
The sun was still low in the eastern sky, but a brilliant band of red, fading to purple at the edges, announced the coming day. A tinge of pink highlighted the thin, nebulous bank of stratus clouds on the western horizon, reflecting the back side of the glowing sunrise. As early as it was, almost everyone was already at the Main Camp. It had rained, off and on, for several days but this day looked more promising. Camping out when it rained was only endurable, never enjoyable.
“As soon as the First Rites and Matrimonial Ceremonies are over, Zelandoni wants to do some traveling,” Ayla said, looking up at Jondalar. “She wants to begin my Donier Tour with some of the closer Sacred Sites. We need to make that seat on a pole-drag for her.” They were walking back from seeing to the horses before heading toward the Meeting Campground for a morning meal. Wolf had started out with them, but was distracted and dashed into the brush.
Jondalar’s brow wrinkled. “A trip like that could be interesting, but some people are talking about a big hunt after the Ceremonies. Maybe going after a summer herd so we can begin drying meat for next winter. Joharran has been talking about how useful the horses can be in driving animals into surrounds. I think he’s counting on us to help. How do we decide which one to do?”
“If she doesn’t want to go too far, maybe we could do both,” Ayla said. She wanted to go with the First to visit Sacred Sites, but she also loved to hunt.
“Perhaps,” Jondalar said. “Maybe we should talk to both Joharran and Zelandoni and let them decide. But in any case, we could go ahead and make a pole-drag seat for Zelandoni. When we were making the summer shelter for Bologan and Lanoga and the rest of that family, I noticed some trees that I thought might work.”
“When do you think would be a good time to make it?”
“This afternoon, perhaps. I’ll ask around to see if I can get a few people to help,” Jondalar said.
“Greetings, Ayla and Jondalar,” a familiar young voice said. It was Lanoga’s younger sister, nine-year Trelara.
They both turned around and saw all six of the children coming out of their summer shelter. Bologan tied the opening flap closed, then caught up with them. Neither Tremeda nor Laramar was with them. Ayla knew the adults used the shelter sometimes, but they either had left earlier or, more likely, had not returned the night before. Ayla thought the children were probably heading to the Meeting Camp, hoping to find something to eat. People often made too much food and someone was usually willing to give them the leftovers. They may not always have received the choicest selection, but they seldom went hungry.
“Greetings, children,” Ayla said.
They all smiled at her except Bologan, who tried to be more serious. When she first became familiar with the family, Ayla knew that Bologan, the eldest, stayed away from home as often as he could, preferring to associate with other boys, especially those who were more rowdy. But lately, it seemed to her, he was becoming more responsible toward the younger children, especially his brother Lavogan, who was a seven-year. And she’d seen him several times with Lanidar lately, which she thought was a good sign. Bologan walked up to Jondalar, rather diffidently.
“Greetings, Jondalar,” he said, looking down at his feet before raising his eyes to meet the man’s.
“Greetings, Bologan,” Jondalar said, wondering why he had been approached.
“Can I ask you something?” Bologan said.
“Of course.”
The boy reached into a pocket-like fold of his tunic and pulled out a colorful manhood belt. “Zelandoni talked to me yesterday, then gave this to me. She showed me how to tie it, but I can’t seem to make it look right,” he said.
Well, he was a thirteen-year now, Ayla thought as she fought back a smile. He hadn’t specifically asked Jondalar for help, but the tall man knew what he wanted. Typically it was the man of a boy’s hearth who gave him his manhood belt, usually made by his mother. Bologan was asking Jondalar to stand in for the man who should have been there for him.
Jondalar showed the young man how to tie the belt, then Bologan called to his brother and started out toward the Main Camp, the others followed behind more slowly. Ayla watched them go, thirteen-year Bologan walking beside seven-year Lavogan, eleven-year Lanoga, with Lorala, one-year plus a half, on her hip, and nine-year Trelara holding the hand of three-year Ganamar. She remembered being told that one who would have been a five-year had died in infancy. Though she and Jondalar helped them, and several others from the Ninth Cave as well, the children were essentially raising themselves. Neither their mother nor the man of their hearth paid much attention to them, and did little to support them. She believed it was Lanoga who held them together, though now, she was glad to see, Trelara was helping her and Bologan was more involved.
She felt Jonayla moving in her carrying blanket, waking up. She pulled it around from her back to her front, and took the baby out of it. She was naked, with no absorbent padding. Ayla held her out in front of her while the child wet on the ground. Jondalar smiled. None of the other women did that, and when he asked her, Ayla told him that was how Clan mothers often took care of their children’s wetting. Though she didn’t do it all the time, it certainly saved time cleaning up messes and gathering materials that could soak up liquid. And Jonayla was getting so used to it, she tended to wait until she was out before she let go.
“Do you think Lanidar is still interested in Lanoga?” Jondalar asked, obviously thinking about Tremeda’s children, too.
“He certainly gave her a warm smile when he first saw her this year,” Ayla said. “How is he doing with the spear-thrower? He looks to me as though he’s been practicing with his left arm.”
“He’s good!” Jondalar said. “Actually, it’s amazing to watch him. He has some use of his right arm, and uses it to help place the spear on the thrower, but he throws with great force and accuracy with his left arm. He’s become quite a hunter and has gained the respect of his Cave, and more status. Now everyone at this Summer Meeting is looking at him with new eyes. Even the man of his hearth, who left his mother after he was born, has been showing an interest in him. And his mother and grandmother are no longer insisting that he go berry-picking and food-collecting with them all the time for fear he won’t be able to support himself any other way. They made that harness he wears, but he told them what he wanted. They give you credit for teaching him, you know.”
“You taught him, too,” she said; then after a while she added, “He may have become a good hunter, but I still doubt that most mothers would want him to mate their daughters. They would be afraid that the bad spirit that deformed his arm is still hovering and might give their daughter’s children the same problem. When he said last year that he wanted to mate Lanoga when they grew up, and help her raise her sisters and brothers, Proleva said she thought that would be a perfect pairing. Since Laramar and Tremeda have the lowest status, no mother would want her son to mate with her, but I don’t think anyone would put up much objection to Lanidar mating Lanoga, especially if he’s a good hunter.”
“No. But I’m afraid Tremeda and Laramar will find a way to take advantage of him,” Jondalar said. “I notice Lanoga isn’t ready for First Rites, yet.”
“But she will be soon. She’s beginning to show signs. Maybe before the summer is over, the last First Rites ceremony of the season. Have they asked you to assist with First Rites this summer?” she asked, trying to seem unconcerned.
“Yes, but I told them I wasn’t ready to take on that responsibility yet,” he said, grinning at her. “Why? Do you think I should?”
“Only if you want to. There are some young women who might be very happy if you did. Perhaps even Lanoga,” Ayla said, turning to look at Jonayla so he wouldn’t see her face.
“Not Lanoga!” he said. “That would be like sharing First Rites with the child of my own hearth!”
She turned and smiled at him. “You are probably closer to it than the man who is,” Ayla said. “You’ve provided more for that family than Laramar has.”
They were approaching the Main Camp and people had started calling greetings to them. “Do you think it will take very long to make a pole-drag with a seat?” Ayla asked.
“If I can get some help and we start soon, maybe later this morning, we can probably have it done by afternoon,” he said. “Why?”
“Then should I ask her if she would have time to try it this afternoon? She said that was what she wanted to do before she used it in front of other people.”
“Go ahead and ask her. I’ll ask Joharran and some others to help. I’m sure we’ll get it done.” Jondalar grinned. “It will be interesting to see how people react when they see her riding behind the horses.”
Jondalar was working on cutting down a straight, sturdy sapling that was a good deal thicker than the size they usually selected for a travois. The stone axe-head he was using had been shaped so that the thicker top was tapered up to a kind of point, and the cutting end knapped into a narrow thinning cross-section with a sharp, rounded bottom edge. The wooden handle had a hole gouged all the way through in one end into which the tapered top of the axe-head could fit. It was affixed in such a way that each time a blow was struck, the axe-head would wedge more firmly into the hole of the handle. The two pieces were firmly lashed together with wet rawhide that shrank and pulled tighter as it dried.
A stone axe was not strong enough to cut straight across the trunk of a tree; the flint would shatter and break if used in that way. To fell a tree with such a tool, the cuts needed to be made at an angle, whittling down the tree until it broke apart. The stump often looked as though it had been chewed down by a beaver. Even then, stone chips usually spalled off the axe-blade, so that it needed constant resharpening. This could be done by using a carefully controlled hammerstone, or pointed bone punch hit by a hammerstone, to remove narrow slivers of stone to thin down the cutting edge again. Because he was a skilled flint-knapper, Jondalar was often called upon to cut down trees. He knew how to use an axe properly, and how to resharpen one efficiently.
Jondalar had just cut down a second tree of similar size when a group of men arrived: Joharran, along with Solaban and Rushemar; Manvelar, the leader of the Third Cave, and the son of his mate, Morizan; Kimeran, leader of the Second Cave, and Jondecam, his same-age nephew; Willamar, the Trade Master, and his apprentice, Tivonan, and his friend Palidar; and Stevadal, the leader of the Twenty-sixth Cave, within whose territory this year’s Summer Meeting was being held. Eleven people had come to make one pole-drag, twelve counting Jondalar. If she counted herself, thirteen. Ayla had made her first one by herself.
They were curious, she thought; that’s brought them. Most of the new arrivals were familiar with the contrivance she called a pole-drag, which Ayla used with her horses to transport goods. It began with two poles made from whole trees with tapering tops, and all the branches trimmed off. Depending upon the variety, the bark was sometimes removed as well, especially if it slipped off easily. The narrow ends were fastened together and attached to a horse at the withers with a harness of sturdy cords or leather thongs. The two trees angled out slightly in front, and much more toward the back, with only the ends of the heavier base dragging on the ground, which created relatively little friction, making it fairly easy to pull even with a heavy load. Crosspieces of wood, leather, or cordage, anything that could support a load, were attached to both poles across the space between.
Jondalar explained to the ones who had come to help that he wanted to make a pole-drag with special crosspieces put together in a certain way. Before long, more trees had been cut down, and a few suggestions offered and tried before they worked out something that seemed suitable. Ayla concluded they didn’t need her, and while they were working, decided to get Zelandoni.
Taking Jonayla with her, she slipped away heading toward the main Meeting Camp, thinking about the adaptations to a pole-drag and the one they had made on their long return Journey to Jondalar’s home. When they came to a large river they had to cross, they constructed a bowl boat similar to the kind the Mamutoi used to cross rivers: a frame of wood bent into the shape of a bowl and covered on the outside with a heavy well-greased aurochs hide. It was simple to make but a little diffcult to control in the water. Jondalar told her about the boats the Sharamudoi made, dug out of a log, widened with steam, with a pointed prow on each end. They were much more difficult to make, but it was much easier to make them go where you wanted, he explained.
The first time they crossed a river, they used the bowl boat to hold their things, and themselves, and propelled it with small oars across the river, while the horses swam behind. They repacked their things in panniers and saddle-baskets, then decided to make a pole-drag for Whinney to take the boat with them. Later they realized that they could attach the bowl boat between the poles of the travois and let the horses swim across a river pulling the load while Ayla and Jondalar rode on their backs, or swam along beside them. The bowl boat was lightweight and since it floated, it kept their things dry. When they reached the other side of the next river, instead of emptying it, they decided to leave their things in the bowl boat. While the pole-drag with the boat made crossing rivers easy and usually presented no problems traveling across open plains, when they had to move through woods or areas of high relief that required sharp turns, the long poles and the bowl-shaped boat could be a hindrance. They almost left them behind a few times, but didn’t abandon them until they were much closer and had a much better reason.
Ayla had told Zelandoni earlier what they were planning, so she was ready when Ayla came for her. When they got back to the camp of the Ninth Cave, the men had moved closer to the fenced enclosure that had been made for the horses and didn’t see them. The First slipped into the sleeping lodge used by Jondalar’s family with the sleeping baby while Ayla went to see what was happening with the pole-drag seat. Jondalar had been right. With all the help, it hadn’t taken long to construct. It had a deep bench-like seat with a back between the two sturdy poles, with a step up to it. Jondalar had taken Whinney out of the enclosure and was strapping the conveyance on the mare with a harness arrangement of thongs across her chest and high on her shoulders.
“What are you going to do with that?” Morizan said. He was still young enough to ask directly.
It was not considered courteous for adults to be quite so blunt, but it was what all the the others were thinking. Such directness might not have been appropriate for a mature Zelandonii, but it wasn’t wrong, just naive and unsophisticated. Experienced people knew how to be more subtle and implicit. Ayla, however, was used to candor. It was common and entirely appropriate for the Mamutoi to be frank and forthright. It was a cultural difference, although they had their own kinds of subtleties. And the Clan could read body language as well as their sign language and, though as a result they couldn’t lie, they did understand nuances and could be extremely discreet.
“I do have a particular idea of how to use it, but I’m still not sure if it will work. I’d like to try it out first, and if it doesn’t work, it is a sturdy and well-made pole-drag and I will probably find another use for it,” Ayla said.
While her reply didn’t really answer his question, it satisfied the men. They assumed that she just didn’t want to announce an experiment that might not work. No one liked to advertise their failures. Ayla was actually fairly certain it would work; she just didn’t know if the First would be willing to use it.
Jondalar started walking slowly back toward their camp, knowing that if he moved, the others would. Ayla went into the horse enclosure to settle the horses after all the excitement of so many people around, nodding to the men to acknowledge their leaving. She patted and stroked Gray, thinking what a beautiful young filly she was. Then she talked to Racer and scratched his favorite itchy parts. Horses were very social animals, and liked being around their kind and others for whom they had affection. He was of an age that if he were living with wild horses, he’d be leaving his dam to run with a bachelor herd. But since Gray and Whinney were his only equine companions, he had grown quite close to Gray and had become somewhat protective of his young sister.
Ayla went out of the enclosure and approached Whinney, who was standing patiently with the pole-drag behind her. As the woman hugged her neck, the mare put her head over Ayla’s shoulder, a familiar position of closeness between the two. Jondalar had put a halter on the mare, since it was easier for him to direct her with it. Ayla thought it might be better to use it while the First was trying out her new means of transportation. Taking the lead attached to the halter, she headed toward their sleeping lodge. By the time she reached it, the men were walking back to the Main Camp and Jondalar was inside the lodge talking to Zelandoni and holding Jonayla, who was quite content.
“Shall we try it out?” Jondalar said.
“Is everyone gone?” the large woman asked.
“Yes, the men are gone and no one else is in camp,” Ayla said.
“Then I suppose this is as good a time as any,” the First said.
They walked out of the lodge, each of them glancing around to make sure no one else was there, then approached Whinney. They went around the back of the horse.
Suddenly Ayla said, “Wait a moment,” and went into the summer dwelling. She came back out holding a padded cushion and placed it on the seat, which was made of several small logs lashed firmly together with strong cordage. A narrow back, perpendicular to the seat and made the same way, kept the cushion in place. Jondalar handed Ayla the infant, then turned to help Zelandoni.
But when the Donier stepped onto the crosspiece of wooden logs made into a step that was close to the ground, the springy long poles gave a little, and Whinney took a step forward because of the shift in weight. The First quickly backed off.
“The horse moved!” she said.
“I’ll go hold her steady,” Ayla said.
She went around to the front of the mare to calm her, holding the lead rope with one hand and the infant with the other. The horse sniffed at the baby’s tummy, which made her giggle and her mother smile. Whinney and Jonayla were familiar with and completely comfortable around each other. The child had frequently ridden on the horse, in her mother’s arms or slung in her carrying blanket on the woman’s back. She had also ridden on Racer with Jondalar, and had been placed lightly on Gray’s back, while the man kept a secure hold on her, just so the two of them could get used to each other.
“Try it again,” Ayla called out.
Jondalar held out his hand for support, smiling at the large woman encouragingly. Zelandoni wasn’t used to being encouraged or urged to do anything. She was the one who usually took on that duty and she gave Jondalar a hard look to see if he was patronizing her. In truth, her heart was pounding though she did not want to admit to her fear. She wasn’t sure why she had agreed to do this thing.
Again the fresh trees that were used as poles yielded as the First put her weight on the thinner logs that had been lashed together to form the step, but Ayla steadied the mare, and Jondalar’s shoulder offered support to her. She reached for the seat, again logs tied close together with rawhide cordage, turned herself around, and sat on the cushion with a sigh of relief.
“Are you ready?” Ayla called back.
“Are you?” Jondalar asked the Donier quietly.
“As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”
“Go ahead,” Jondalar said, raising his voice a bit.
“Take it slow, Whinney,” Ayla said, going forward while holding the lead.
The horse started walking, pulling the sturdy pole-drag and the First Among Those Who Served The Great Earth Mother behind her. The woman grabbed the front edge of the seat as she felt herself being moved, but once Whinney got started, it wasn’t bad, though she didn’t let go of the seat. Ayla looked back to see how things were going, and noticed Wolf, sitting on his haunches, watching them. Where have you been? You’ve been gone all day, she thought.
The ride wasn’t smooth; there were a few bumps and dips along the way, and one place where one leg dropped into a ditch caused by a creek runoff, making the rider sway to the left, but the conveyance was soon righted when Ayla turned Whinney slightly. They headed toward the horse enclosure.
It was a strange sensation to move without using her own feet, Zelandoni thought. Of course, children who were carried by their parents were used to it, she realized, but she hadn’t been small enough to be carried by anyone for many years, and riding on this pole-drag moving seat wasn’t the same. For one thing, she was facing backward, looking at where she had been, not where she was going.
Before they reached the horse enclosure, Ayla started a wide turn that led them back to the Ninth Cave’s camp. She saw a track that led in a direction different from the one they usually took to the Main Camp. She had noticed it before and wondered where it led, but never seemed to have time to follow it. This seemed like a good time. She started toward it, then looked back and caught Jondalar’s eye. She indicated the unknown trail with a slight gesture and he nodded imperceptibly, hoping that their passenger wouldn’t notice and object. Either she didn’t notice or didn’t object as Ayla continued. Wolf had been trotting beside Jondalar bringing up the rear, but loped to the front when Ayla changed direction.
She had draped the lead rope across Whinney’s neck; the horse would follow the woman’s signals more easily than a lead rope attached to a halter. Then she put Jonayla in her carrying blanket on her back where the child could look around but wasn’t a constant weight on her mother’s arm. The trail led to the waterway known to the Ninth Cave as West River, and followed it for a short distance. Just as Ayla was wondering if she should turn back, she saw several familiar people ahead. She stopped the horse and walked back to Jondalar and Zelandoni.
“I think we’ve reached Sun View, Zelandoni,” she said. “Do you want to go ahead and visit, and if so, do you want to stay on the pole-drag?”
“Since we’re here, we might as well visit. I might not get here again for some time. And I’m ready to get off. It’s not bad sitting on the moving seat, but it can be a bit bumpy sometimes.” The woman stood up, and using Jondalar for a bit of balance and support, stepped down.
“Do you think you would find it convenient to use when we go to visit the sacred sites you want Ayla to see?” Jondalar asked.
“I think it could be useful, at least for part of the Journey.”
Ayla smiled.
“Jondalar, Ayla, Zelandoni!” a familiar voice called out. Ayla noticed a smile on Jondalar’s face as she was turning around. Willamar was walking toward them along with Stevadal, the leader of the Twenty-sixth Cave.
“How nice that you decided to come,” Stevadal said. “I didn’t know if the First would be able to visit Sun View.”
“Summer Meetings are always full for the zelandonia, but I do try to make at least one courtesy visit to the Cave that hosts the Meeting, Stevadal. We do appreciate the effort,” she said.
“It is an honor,” the leader of the Twenty-sixth said.
“And our pleasure,” said a woman who had just arrived and was standing beside Stevadal.
Ayla was sure the woman was Stevadal’s mate, though she hadn’t met her, and didn’t remember seeing her at the Meeting Camp. It made her look closer. She was younger than Stevadal, but there was something else. Her tunic hung on her thin frame, and she seemed wan and frail. Ayla wondered if she had been ill, or had suffered some grievous loss.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Stevadal said. “Danella was hoping to see the First, and to meet Jondalar’s mate. She hasn’t been able to go to the Meeting Camp, yet.”
“You didn’t tell me she was ill, or I would have come sooner, Stevadal,” the First said.
“Our Zelandoni has been here for her,” Stevadal said. “I didn’t want to bother you. I know how busy you are at Summer Meetings.”
“Not too busy to see your mate.”
“Perhaps later, after everyone else has seen you,” Danella said to the First, then turned to the tall blond man, “but I would like to meet your mate, Jondalar. I’ve heard so much about her.”
“Then you shall,” he said, beckoning to Ayla. She approached the woman with both hands out, palms up, in the traditional greeting of openness, showing she had nothing to hide. Then Jondalar began.
“Danella, of the Twenty-sixth Cave of the Zelandonii, mate of the leader, Stevadal, may I present to you Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii …” He continued with her usual introduction until he got to “Protected by the spirit of the Cave Bear.”
“You forgot ‘Friend of horses and the four-legged hunter she calls Wolf,’ ” Willamar added, chuckling.
He had joined them along with the rest of the men who had come to help make the new pole-drag. Since they were in the area, Willamar suggested that they stop by to visit Sun View, the home of the Twenty-sixth Cave of the Zelandonii, who were hosting the Summer Meeting, and they had been invited to stay for a cup of tea.
Most of the people who lived there were at the Summer Meeting Camp, but a few were still at home, among them the leader’s mate, who apparently was, or had been, ill, Ayla concluded, and wondered how long she had been sick, and what her problem was. She glanced at Zelandoni, who was looking at her. Their eyes met and while nothing was said, she felt that the First was thinking the same thing.
“My names and ties are not nearly so interesting, but in the name of Doni, the Great Earth Mother, you are welcome here, Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii,” Danella said.
“And I greet you, Danella of the Twenty-sixth Cave of the Zelandonii,” Ayla said as they took each other’s hands.
“The sound of your speech is as interesting as your names and ties,” Danella said. “It makes one think of faraway places. You must have some exciting stories to tell. I would like to hear some of them, Ayla.”
Ayla couldn’t help but smile. She was more than aware that her speech was different from that of other Zelandonii. Most people tried to hide it when they noticed her accent, but Danella had such a charming and forthright manner that Ayla was immediately drawn to her. She reminded Ayla of the Mamutoi.
Ayla wondered again what illness or difficulty had caused Danella’s physical frailty, which contrasted so sharply with her warm and winning personality. She glanced at Zelandoni and understood that the First also wanted to know, and would find out before they left the camp. Jonayla was squirming, and Ayla thought she probably wanted to see what was going on, and whom her mother was talking to. She shifted the carrying blanket around so her baby could ride on her hip.
“This must be your ‘Blessed of Doni’ infant, Jonayla,” Danella said.
“Yes.”
“That’s a beautiful name. After Jondalar and you?”
Ayla nodded.
“She is as beautiful as her name,” Danella said.
Although it wasn’t obvious, Ayla knew how to read the nuances of body language and detected a hint of sadness in the fleeting frown and slight wrinkling of her brow. And suddenly the reason for both Danella’s weakness and sadness came to her. She has miscarried quite late, or had a stillborn baby, Ayla thought, and probably had a difficult pregnancy, and very hard birth, and now had nothing to show for it. She is recovering from the strain on her body and grieving for her lost child. She looked toward the First, who was surreptitiously studying the young woman. Ayla thought she had likely guessed the same thing.
She felt Wolf push against her leg and looked down. He was looking up at her, making a slight whine, which let her know that he wanted something. He looked at Danella, then back at her, and whined again. Did he sense something about the leader’s mate?
Wolves were always sensitive to weakness in others. When living in a hunting pack, it was the weak ones they generally attacked. But Wolf had formed a particularly close bond with the weak half-Clan child whom Nezzie had adopted when the wolf was very young and imprinting on his Mamutoi pack. Wolves of a pack adore their puppies, but humans were Wolf’s pack. She knew he was drawn to human babies and children, and those that his wolf-sense told him were weak, not to hunt them, but to bond with as wild wolves did with their puppies.
Ayla noticed that Danella seemed a little apprehensive. “I think Wolf wants to meet you, Danella. Have you ever touched a living wolf?” she asked.
“No, of course not. I have never been this close to one before. Why do you think he wants to meet me?”
“He is drawn to certain people sometimes. He loves babies—Jonayla crawls all over him and even if she pulls his hair or pokes at his eyes or ears, he never seems to mind. When we first arrived at the Ninth Cave, he acted like this when he saw Jondalar’s mother. He just wanted to meet Marthona.” Ayla suddenly wondered if Wolf had sensed that the woman, who had once been the leader of the largest Cave of the Zelandonii, had a weak heart. “Would you like to meet him?”
“What do I have to do?” Danella said.
The visitors to Sun View were standing around watching. The ones who were familiar with Wolf and his ways were smiling, others were interested, but Stevadal, Danella’s mate, was concerned.
“I’m not sure about this,” he said.
“He won’t hurt her,” Jondalar said.
Ayla handed Jonayla to Jondalar, then led Wolf to Danella. She took the woman’s hand and went through the process of Wolf’s introduction.
“The way Wolf recognizes someone is by scent, and he knows that when I introduce him to someone like this, they are friends.” Wolf sniffed at Danella’s fingers, then licked them.
She smiled. “His tongue is smooth, soft.”
“Some of his fur is, too,” Ayla said,
“He’s so warm!” Danella said. “I’ve never touched fur on a warm body before. And right here, you can feel something throbbing.”
“Yes, that’s how a living animal feels.” Ayla turned to the leader of the Twenty-sixth Cave of the Zelandonii. “Would you like to meet him, Stevadal?”
“You might as well,” Danella said.
Ayla went through a similar process with him, but Wolf seemed eager to return to Danella, and walked near her when they continued on to Sun View. They found places to sit—logs, padded stones, sometimes on the ground. The visitors took out their cups from pouches attached to their waistbands. They were served tea by the few people who had not gone to the Meeting Camp, among them both Danella’s and Stevadal’s mothers, who had stayed to help the leader’s mate. When Danella sat down, Wolf sat beside her, but he did look at Ayla, as though asking for permission. She nodded, and he put his head down on his paws that were stretched out in front of him. Danella found herself petting him now and then.
Zelandoni sat beside Ayla. After she drank her tea, Ayla nursed Jonayla. Several people had come to chat with the First and her acolyte, but when they were finally alone, they began to discuss Danella.
“Wolf seems to be offering her some comfort,” Zelandoni said.
“I think she needs it,” Ayla said. “She’s still so weak. I think she may have had a late miscarriage or a stillborn, and probably a difficult time before.”
The First gave her a look of interest. “What makes you say that?”
“Because she’s so thin and frail, I’m sure she’s been ill or has had some problem for some time, and I noticed a certain sadness when she looked at Jonayla. It made me think she had had a long, hard pregnancy, and then lost the baby,” Ayla said.
“That’s a very astute judgment. I think you are right. I was thinking something very similar. Perhaps we should ask her mother. I’d like to examine her, just to make sure she’s recovering well,” the Donier said. “There are some medicines that could help her.” The First turned to Ayla. “What would you suggest?”
“Alfalfa is good for fatigue, and the stinging pain when you pass water,” Ayla said, then paused to think. “I don’t know the name, but there’s a plant with a red berry that’s very good for women. It grows along the ground as a small vine and the leaves are green all year. It can be used for the cramps that can come with the moontime bleeding, and can ease heavy bleeding. It can encourage birth, and make it easier.”
“I’m familiar with that one. It grows so thick, it sometimes forms a mat on the ground, and birds like the berries. Some people call it birdberry,” the First said. “Alfalfa tea might help restore strength, also a decoction of the roots and bark of spikenard …” She stopped when she saw the puzzled expression on Ayla’s face. “It’s a tall bush with big leaves and purple berries … the flowers are small, greenish white … I’ll show you sometime. It can help if the sac that holds the baby inside a woman drops down, slips out of place. That’s why I’d like to examine her, so I know what to give her. Zelandoni of the Twenty-sixth is a good general healer, but he may not be as knowledgeable about women’s ailments. I’ll have to talk to him before we leave today.”
After a polite length of time, the men who came to help build the pole-drag and then went to visit the home shelter of the Twenty-sixth Cave finished their tea and got up to leave. The First stopped Joharran. Jondalar was with him.
“Will you go to the zelandonia camp and see if you can find Zelandoni of the Twenty-sixth?” the Donier said quietly. “Stevadal’s mate has not been well and I’d like to see if there is anything we can do. He’s a good healer, and he may have done everything that can be done, but I need to talk to him. I think it’s a woman’s problem, and we are women …” She left the rest unsaid. “Ask him to come here; we’ll wait awhile.”
“Should I wait here with you?” Jondalar asked the two women.
“Weren’t you planning on going to the practice field?” Joharran said.
“Yes, but I don’t have to.”
“Why don’t you go, Jondalar. We’ll be along later,” Ayla said, brushing his cheek with hers.
The two women joined Danella and the two mothers, and a few others. When he saw that the First and her acolyte were not leaving, Stevadal stayed behind as well. The head Zelandoni was adept at finding out what was wrong with people, and soon discovered that Danella had been pregnant, and the baby was stillborn as they suspected, but she sensed that the two older women were holding something back, especially around Danella and Stevadal. There was more to the story than they were willing to say. The Donier would have to wait for the Twenty-sixth. In the meantime, the women chatted. Jonayla was passed around to the women. Although at first Danella seemed reluctant to take her, once she did, she held her for quite a while. Wolf seemed happy to stay with both of them.
Ayla took the pole-drag off Whinney and let her graze, and when she returned, they asked some tentative questions about the horse and how Ayla came to have her. The First encouraged Ayla to tell them. She was developing into quite a good storyteller and enthralled her listeners, especially when she added the sound effects of horse-neighs and lion-roars. Just as she was finishing, the Zelandoni of the Twenty-sixth Cave appeared.
“I thought I heard a familiar lion-roar,” he said, greeting them with a big smile.
“Ayla has been telling us how she adopted Whinney,” Danella said. “Just as I guessed, she has some captivating stories to tell. And now that I’ve heard one, I want to hear more.”
The First was getting anxious to leave, though she didn’t want to show it. It was entirely appropriate for the First Among Those Who Served The Great Earth Mother to visit with the leader of the Cave that was hosting the Summer Meeting and his mate, but she had many things to do. The ceremony of the Rites of First Pleasures would be the day after next, and then the first Matrimonial of the season. Though there would be another mating ceremony near the end of the summer for those who wanted to finalize their decisions before they returned to their winter shelters, the first one was invariably the largest and most well attended. There were many plans yet to be made.
While people fussed around making more tea, since they had drunk all there was, the First and her acolyte managed to get the Twenty-sixth aside and speak privately with him.
“We learned that Danella delivered a stillborn,” the First said, “but more happened, I’m sure. I’d like to examine her and see if there is anything I can do to help.”
He breathed a long sigh and frowned.