Jondalar and Ayla both ran back to the Cave, following Wolf. As they drew near, they could see a number of people in front of the shelter in the field where the horses grazed. When they got closer, they saw a scene that might have been funny if it hadn’t been so frightening. Jonayla was standing in front of Gray with her arms outstretched as though to protect the young mare, facing down six or seven men armed with spears. Whinney and Racer were ranged behind them, watching the men.
“What do you think you are doing?” Ayla shouted, reaching for her sling since she didn’t have her spear-thrower with her.
“What do you think we’re doing? We’re hunting horses,” one of the men replied. He heard her odd accent and added, “Who wants to know?”
“I am Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii,” Ayla said. “And you are not hunting those horses. Can’t you see those are special horses?”
“What makes them so special? They look like ordinary horses to me.”
“Open your eyes and look,” Jondalar said. “How often do you see horses stand still for a child? Why do you think those horses are not running away from you?”
“Maybe because they’re too stupid to know any better.”
“I think maybe you are too stupid to understand what you are seeing,” Jondalar said, getting angry at the insolent mouth of the young man who seemed to be speaking for the group.
He whistled a piercing series of tones. The hunters watched the stallion turn toward the tall blond man, then trot up to him. Jondalar stood in front of Racer and made a point of arming his spear-thrower, though he didn’t quite aim it at the men.
Ayla walked between her daughter and the men and signaled Wolf to her, then added a signal that meant “Guard the horses.” The wolf bared his teeth and snarled at the men, which made them crowd closer together and back up a few paces. Ayla picked up Jonayla and put her on Gray’s back. Then she grabbed Whinney’s stand-up mane, leaped up and threw her leg over, and landed on her back. Every action caused the hunters to react with increasing surprise.
“How did you do that?” the young speaker said.
“I told you these were special horses, and not to be hunted,” Ayla said.
“Are you a Zelandoni?”
“She’s an acolyte, a Zelandoni in training,” Jondalar said. “She’s First Acolyte of the Zelandoni Who Is First Among Those Who Serve The Mother, who will be here shortly.”
“The One Who Is First is here?”
“Yes, she is here,” Jondalar said, looking more closely at the men. They were all young, probably recently initiated into manhood and sharing a fa’lodge at a Summer Meeting—likely the one at the site of the next Sacred Cave they were planning to visit. “Aren’t you rather far from your Summer Meeting fa’lodge?” he asked.
“How do you know that?” the young man said. “You don’t know us.”
“But it’s not hard to guess. This is the time of Summer Meetings, you are all about the age when young men decide to leave their mother’s camp and stay in a fa’lodge, and to show how independent you are, you decided to go hunting and maybe even bring some meat back. But your luck hasn’t been too good, has it? And now you are hungry.”
“How do you know? Are you a Zelandoni, too?” the young man said.
“Just a guess,” Jondalar said; then he noticed the First arriving and all the others following behind. The One Who Was First could walk rather fast when she had a mind to, and she knew that if the wolf had come looking for them, there must have been some kind of trouble.
The First took in the scene quickly: young men with spears, too young to be very experienced; the wolf in a defensive stance in front of the horses with both the young girl and the woman on their bare backs without any of the usual accoutrements for riding, and a sling in Ayla’s hand, Jondalar with an armed spear-thrower standing in front of the stallion. Had Jonayla sent the wolf for her mother while she was trying to protect the horses from more than a handful of would-be hunters?
“Is there a problem here?” the Donier said. The young men knew who she was though none of them had ever seen her before. They had all heard descriptions of the First, and understood the meaning of the tattoos on her face, and the necklaces and clothing she wore.
“Not anymore, but these men were thinking of hunting our horses, until Jonayla stopped them,” Jondalar said, restraining the urge to smile.
She is a plucky child, the Donier thought, when her initial evaluation of the situation was confirmed. “Are you from the Seventh Cave of the South Land Zelandonii?” she asked the young men. The Seventh Cave, where they were heading next, was the most important Cave in this region.
She had a good idea of their Cave from the designs on the clothing they wore. She knew all the differentiating patterns and designs of clothing and jewelry in her immediate area, but the farther away they traveled, the less she would be able to identify people, although she might be able to make some educated guesses.
“Yes, Zelandoni Who Is First,” the young man who had spoken before replied, in a much more deferential tone. It was always smart to be careful around Zelandonia, but especially the One Who Was First.
The young Zelandoni of the local Cave arrived, and most of the others who had visited the Sacred Site. They were standing around watching to see what the powerful woman would do to the young men who had threatened the special horses.
The First turned to the hunters of the local Cave. “It appears that there are now seven more hungry mouths to feed. That will cut down on supplies in a hurry. I think we’ll have to stay a little longer, until a hunting expedition can be organized. You will have help, fortunately. We have several experienced hunters in our group, and with some proper direction, even those young men should be able to make a contribution. I’m sure they will be disposed to help in any way they can, under the circumstances,” she said, then gave the young man who seemed to speak for the group a hard stare.
“Yes, of course,” he said. “Hunting is what we were doing.”
“But not very well,” someone in the crowd who was watching said, under his breath, but loud enough so that everyone heard. Some of the young men blushed and looked away.
“Has anyone spotted any herds recently?” Jondalar asked, directing his question to the two hunters of the Cave. “I think we’ll need to hunt more than one animal.”
“No, but it’s the right season for red deer to be migrating through, especially the does and young. Someone could go out and look, but it usually takes a few days,” one of the Cave hunters said.
“What direction would they be coming from?” Jondalar asked. “I can go and look this afternoon, on Racer. He can travel faster than anyone on foot. If I find anything, Ayla and I can go back and perhaps chase them this way. Wolf can help, too.”
“You can do that?” the young man blurted out.
“We told you they were special horses,” Jondalar said.
The deer meat had been spread out on cordage that was stretched across a slow, smoky fire overnight. As Ayla was packing it into her parfleche meat container, she wished it had had more time to dry, but they’d already stayed two days longer than the First had planned. Ayla thought she could continue drying it over fires along the way, or even after they arrived at the Seventh Cave of the South Land Zelandonii, since they would be staying for a while.
The Donier Tour group had grown again; the seven young men would be with them. They had proved quite helpful on the hunt, if a little too eager. They did know how to throw spears; they just didn’t know how to cooperate to drive animals toward one another or into some kind of a cul-de-sac so they could be effectively hunted. The young men were quite impressed with the spear-throwers used by the travelers from north of Big River, including the First’s acolyte, as were the two local hunters, who had heard of the weapon but had not seen one in action. With Jondalar’s help, most had already made spear-throwers of their own and were practicing with them.
Ayla had also persuaded Dulana to come with them and enjoy at least part of her Summer Meeting. She was lonely for her mate and children and wanted to see them, though she was still nervous about the scars on her hands and face. She shared a sleeping place with Amelana. They had become friendly, especially since Dulana was willing to chat about pregnancy and giving birth from the point of view of her own experience. Amelana never felt comfortable just chatting with the First or her acolyte, even though Ayla had a child with her. The young woman had heard them discussing medicines and healing practices, and other knowledge and lore of the zelandonia, most of which she didn’t understand, and felt intimidated by the accomplished women.
She did, however, like the attention she was getting from all the young men, both the young hunters and Willamar’s apprentices, though the traders did back off when she was surrounded by all of the rather bumptious youths. They didn’t need to vie for her attention. They knew the youngsters would be with them only a few days, and they had the rest of the trip. While Jondalar with the help of Jonokol and Willamar was hitching the First’s special riding travois to Whinney, Ayla and the Donier were watching the byplay of Amelana and the young men.
“They remind me of a litter of wolf cubs,” Ayla said.
“When did you see wolf cubs?” Zelandoni said.
“When I was young and still living with the Clan,” Ayla said. “Before I started hunting meat-eaters, I used to watch them, sometimes for a long time, all morning, or all day, if I could stay away that long. I watched all kinds of four-legged hunters, not just wolves. That was how I learned to track very silently. Watching the young of any animal was always fascinating, but I particularly liked wolf cubs. They liked to play, just like those boys—I suppose I should call them young men, but they still act like boys. Look how they wrestle and punch and bump each other out of the way, all trying to get Amelana’s attention.”
“I notice Tivonan and Palidar are not with them,” the Donier said. “I think they know they’ll have plenty of time to pay attention to her after we reach the next Sacred Site and the youngsters go away, and when we start traveling again.”
“You think those young men will go off someplace when we get to the next Cave? She’s a very attractive young woman,” Ayla said.
“She’s also their only audience right now. They will be the center of attention of admiring friends and relatives when they arrive at their Camp with us, and bringing deer meat to share. Everyone will be asking them questions and be eager to hear the stories they have to tell. They won’t have time for Amelana.”
“Won’t that make her sad or upset?” Ayla said.
“She’ll have new admirers by then, and they won’t all be boys. An attractive young, pregnant widow will not lack for attention, and neither will those young traders. I’m glad neither one of them seems overly infatuated with Amelana,” the older woman said. “She’s not the kind of woman who would make a good mate for either one of them. A woman mated to a traveler has to have strong interests of her own and not depend on her man to keep her occupied.”
Ayla thought that she was glad Jondalar was not a trader, or involved in some other craft that would require him to travel long distances. It wasn’t that she didn’t have interests of her own or that she needed him to keep her occupied; it was that she would worry if he were gone for a long time. He occasionally took his apprentices to search out new sources of flint, and often examined likely sources when he was out with hunting parties, but traveling alone could be dangerous, and if he got hurt, or worse, how would she know? She would have to wait and wait, wondering if he would ever return. Traveling with a group or even two is better. Then one at least can come back and tell you.
It occurred to her that perhaps Willamar wouldn’t choose just one of his apprentices to be the next Trade Master. He might choose both, and suggest that they travel together for company and to help each other. Of course, a trader’s mate could travel with him, too, but once children came along she might not want to travel away from other women much anymore. It would have been much more difficult, when we were on our Journey, if I’d had a baby along the way. Most women would want the help and companionship of their mothers and other relatives and friends … just like Amelana does. I don’t blame her for wanting to go home.
Once they were under way, the travelers settled into a routine quickly, and since they’d had such a good hunt before they left, they didn’t have to allow time for hunting along the way, and traveled a little faster than usual. They did spend extra time collecting food that grew, however. Since the season had progressed, they had a greater selection and abundance of vegetables—roots, stems, leafy greens—and fruits to gather.
About midmorning on the day they left, as the temperature began to warm, Ayla began to notice a delicious aroma. Strawberries! We must be walking through a field of wild strawberries, she thought. She wasn’t the only one who became aware of the favorite fruit, and everyone was glad to stop to make tea and to pick several small baskets of the tiny bright red berries. Jonayla didn’t bother with a basket—she picked them right into her mouth. Ayla smiled at her, then looked at Jondalar, who was picking strawberries alongside her.
“She reminds me of Latie. Nezzie would never send her daughter out to pick strawberries for a meal. Latie ate everything she picked and never brought anything back, no matter how often her mother chided her. She loved strawberries too much,” Ayla said.
“Is that right?” Jondalar said. “I didn’t know that. I guess I was too busy with Wymez or Talut when you were talking to Latie or Nezzie.”
“I even made excuses for Latie sometimes,” Ayla said. “I’d tell Nezzie there weren’t enough berries for everyone. It was true enough; by the time Latie got through, there weren’t, and she could pick them fast.” Ayla picked for a while in silence, but mentioning Latie brought up other memories. “Remember how much she loved the horses? I wonder if Latie ever managed to find a young one to bring home. Sometimes I miss the Mamutoi. I wonder if we’ll ever see any of them again.”
“I miss them, too,” Jondalar said. “Danug was becoming a fine flint-knapper, especially with Wymez to train him.”
When she finished picking her second basket of strawberries, Ayla noticed other things growing that could add to their evening meal, and asked Amelana and Dulana if they wanted to help her collect some. Ayla took Jonayla and headed first for the edge of the river they were following to collect cattails. Their rhizomes with their new roots and the corms and the lower stems were particularly succulent at this time of year. The top spike had also filled out with tightly packed green buds, which could be boiled or steamed and then chewed off. There were also several kinds of leafy greens. She saw the distinctive shape of sorrel and smiled when she thought of their spicy, tangy taste, and she was especially pleased to find nettles, delectable when cooked down to a delicious green mass.
Everyone enjoyed the meal that night. Spring foods were usually sparse—a few greens, some new shoots—and the larger variety and quantity of plant foods that summer brought were welcomed. The people sometimes craved vegetables and fruits because they provided essential nutrients that their bodies needed, especially after a long winter of primarily dried meat, fat, and roots. The morning meal was leftovers and hot tea, and a quick start. They planned to cover a lot of ground that day so they would arrive at the local Summer Meeting Camp early on the day after.
On the second day, shortly after they started out, the travelers ran into some difficulty. The river they were following had been spreading out and the banks near the stream were becoming boggy and overgrown with vegetation, making it difficult to walk close to the water. It was midmorning and they had been climbing up the sloping sides of a rise for some time. They finally came to the crest of a knoll, and looked out over a valley below. High hills ranged around a long, low area of land, dominated by a steep-sloped prominence that overlooked the confluence of three rivers: a major one that came from the east and meandered off toward the west, a large tributary originating in the northeast, and the small one they were following. Directly ahead of them in a field between two of the rivers was a profusion of summer shelters, lodges, and tents. They had reached the Summer Meeting Camp of the Zelandonii who lived in the land south of Big River, in the territory of the Seventh Cave.
One of the spotters came running into the zelandonia lodge. “Wait until you see what is coming this way!” he blurted out.
“What?” said the Zelandoni of the Seventh Cave of South Land Zelandonii.
“People, but that’s not all.”
“All the Caves are here,” another Zelandoni said.
“Then they must be visitors,” the Seventh said.
“Were we expecting any visitors this year?” the elder Zelandoni of the Fourth Cave of the South Land Zelandonii said as they all got up and headed toward the entryway.
“No, but that’s the way it is with visitors,” the Seventh said.
When the Zelandonia went out, the first thing they noticed heading their way was not the band of people, but the three horses, all of which were dragging some kind of contrivances; two also had people on their backs, one of them a man, another a child. A woman was walking in front of a horse dragging a different apparatus, and as they drew closer, movement beside the woman resolved itself into a wolf! Suddenly the Seventh started to recall stories from people who had stopped on the way back from a Journey north. They talked about a foreign woman and horses, and a wolf. Then it all came together.
“If I’m not mistaken,” the tall, bearded, brown-haired man said, loud enough for the rest of the Zelandonia to hear, “we are being paid a visit by the First Among Those Who Serve The Great Earth Mother, and her acolyte.” He added to an acolyte who was standing nearby, “Go and find as many of the leaders as you can and bring them here.” The young man set out in a run.
“Isn’t she supposed to be a large woman? Very impressive, I understand, but this would be a long way for a large woman to come,” said a rather plump Zelandoni.
“We shall see,” said the Seventh. Since the most Sacred Site in this region was near the Seventh Cave, the Zelandoni of the Seventh Cave usually, though not always, became the acknowledged leader of the local zelandonia.
More people started gathering around, and the leaders of various Caves began appearing. The leader of the Seventh Cave came and stood beside the Zelandoni of the Seventh. “Someone said the First is coming to visit?” she said.
“I believe so,” the Zelandoni said. “Do you remember those visitors we had a few years ago? The ones from far to the south?”
“Yes, I do. Now that you mention it, I think I remember that they said one of the northern Caves had a foreign woman living there who had great control over animals, horses in particular,” the woman said. The tattoos on the side of her forehead were on the opposite side of the ones on the forehead of the Zelandoni, but similar.
“They told me she was an acolyte of the First. They didn’t see much of her, at least not before they had to leave. Her mate was a Zelandonii man who went on a long Journey, five years or more, and brought her back home with him. He also had control of horses and even her child did, and they had a wolf, too. It looks to me like that’s who’s coming,” the Zelandoni explained. “I’m guessing the First may be with them.”
They have efficient spotters, the First said to herself as they pulled up to a rather large lodge, which she assumed was for the zelandonia. They seem to have gathered together quite a welcoming party. Ayla signaled Whinney to stop, and when the First was sure there would be no last-moment jerks, she stood up, and with great agility and grace the large woman stepped off the special travois. That’s why she can travel so far, the plump Zelandoni thought.
All the Zelandonia, leaders, and visitors exchanged formal greetings and identified themselves. The leaders of the Caves from which the young hunters originally came were also glad to see them. Their fa’lodge was empty and no one had seen them for several days, and their families were beginning to worry and wanted a search party sent out to look for them. Since they arrived with the visitors, there was obviously a story here, which could be told later.
“Dulana!” a voice called out.
“Mother! You came!” two happy young voices shouted at the same time.
The elderly Zelandoni from the Fourth South Land Cave looked up, surprised to see the young woman. She had been so despondent after she burned herself, she couldn’t even bring herself to come outside of her shelter, and here she was at the Summer Meeting. She would have to make some inquiries and find out what had changed her mind.
A major celebration, feast, and Mother Festival were immediately planned to welcome the visitors and the First, and when it was learned that they wanted to visit their Sacred Site, the Zelandoni of the Seventh began to make the arrangements. Most of the usual Summer Meeting ceremonies were over, except for the Last Matrimonial, and people had begun making plans to leave, but with the coming of the visitors, most people decided to stay a little longer.
“We may need to arrange a hunt and perhaps a foraging excursion,” the leader of the Seventh said.
“The hunters, including your young men, did manage to intercept a herd of migrating red deer before we left,” the First said. “They made several kills and we brought most of the animals with us.”
“We only field-dressed them,” Willamar said. “They’ll need to be skinned, butchered, and either cooked or dried soon.”
“How many deer did you bring?” the leader of the Seventh Cave asked.
“One for each of your young hunters, seven,” Willamar said.
“Seven! How could you bring so many? Where are they?” a man said.
“Would you like to show them, Ayla?” Willamar said.
“I would be glad to,” Ayla said.
The people nearby noticed her accent and knew she had to be the foreign woman they had heard about. Many of them followed her and Jondalar back to where the horses were patiently waiting. Behind both Racer and Gray were newly made pole-drags that appeared to be piled high with cattail leaves. As Ayla started to remove them, it was quickly revealed that beneath the vegetation were several whole carcasses of red deer of various sizes and ages, female and young. They were covered with cattails mainly to protect them from insects.
“Your young men were very enthusiastic hunters,” Jondalar said. He refrained from adding, “But not very selective.” “These are all their kills. They should make a hearty feast.”
“We can use the cattails, too,” a voice from the watching group said.
“And you are welcome to them,” Ayla said. “There were more growing where we turned away from the river, and other good things to eat as well.”
“I imagine plants growing near your Camp have been picked clean by now,” the One Who Was First said. There were nods and comments of agreement.
“If some of you would be willing to ride on the pole-drags, we can take you to the river where they are, and bring you and your pickings back,” Ayla said.
Several of the younger people looked at each other, then quickly volunteered. They went to get digging sticks and knives, and wide-mesh carrying bags and baskets. On a regular travois, two or three people could semi-recline, but on the one made especially for the First, two normal-size people could sit upright, side by side, three if they were very thin.
When they started out, Jondalar, Ayla, and Jonayla rode on the backs of Racer, Whinney, and Gray, while the horses pulled six more people on the pole-drags. Wolf followed after them. When they reached the place where the travelers had turned away from the river, they halted the horses and the young people got off, feeling rather pleased with themselves for taking the unusual ride; then everyone spread out in several directions to forage. Ayla unhitched the pole-drags to give the horses a rest, and the animals grazed while the gatherers worked. Wolf nosed around, then ran into the woods after a scent he wanted to follow.
They were back at the Camp by midafternoon. While they were gone, many hands had made short work of processing the red deer, and much of it was already cooking. Work had begun on turning some of the pelts into leather that could be worn or made into other useful products.
The feast and celebration went on into the night, but Ayla was tired and as soon as plans were made to visit the Sacred Site, and she could graciously leave, she went to her traveling tent with Jonayla and Wolf to settle in for the night. Jondalar met another flint-knapper and got involved in a discussion about the qualities of flint from various places; the area they were in was the source of some of the best stone in the region.
He told Ayla he would be along soon, but by the time he retired to the tent, both Ayla and Jonayla were sound asleep, along with some of their other tent-mates. The First stayed in the zelandonia lodge that night. Ayla had been invited to stay, and though she knew her Zelandoni would have liked her to get more involved with the local doniers, Ayla wanted to stay with her family and the First didn’t press her. Amelana was the last to return. Though Ayla had told her that while she was pregnant, it probably wasn’t a good idea to drink beverages that would make her intoxicated, she was more than a little tipsy. She went right to bed and hoped Ayla wouldn’t notice.
Early in the morning Amelana was awakened and asked if she wanted to visit the Sacred Site, but she declined, saying she had overdone it the day before and felt she should rest. Both Ayla and the First knew she was suffering from the morning-after malady. Ayla was tempted to let her just suffer it out, but for the sake of her unborn child, she made her some of the special medicine she had developed for Talut, leader of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi, to overcome the headache and upset stomach that came with too much indulgence. The young woman still wanted nothing more than to stay in her sleeping roll.
Jonayla didn’t want to go either. After her experience with the men who wanted to hunt her horses, she was worried that someone else might make a try for them, and wanted to stay and guard them. Ayla tried to explain that everyone at the Camp knew they were special horses by now, but Jonayla said she was afraid someone new might come who didn’t know about them. Ayla couldn’t deny that her daughter had done the right thing before, and Dulana was more than happy to watch the child for Ayla, especially since her daughter was close to the same age. So Ayla let her stay.
The rest of those who wanted to see the painted cave started out. The group consisted of the One Who Was First; Jonokol, her First Acolyte, who was now Zelandoni of the Nineteenth Cave; Ayla, her current acolyte; and Jondalar. Willamar came, but not his two apprentices; they had found other objects of interest to distract them. In addition, several of the Zelandonia who were at the Summer Meeting wanted to see the site again, especially if they were going to be led through it by the Seventh, who knew it better than anyone alive.
There were ten satellite Caves in the region, each of which had its own painted cave as a Sacred Site that was complementary to the important one near the Seventh Cave, but many of them had only rudimentary paintings and engravings in comparison. The Fourth Cave of the South Land Zelandonii, which they had just visited, was one of the better ones. The group started up a path that traversed its way up the steep hill they had seen when they first saw the valley.
“This is called Blackbird Hill,” the Seventh explained. “Sometimes the Hill of the Fishing Blackbird. Somebody invariably asks why, but I don’t know. I have occasionally seen a raven or a crow up here, but I don’t know if that’s relevant. The one who was Seventh before me didn’t know, either.”
“The reason for names often gets lost in the depths of memory,” the First said. The big woman was out of breath and huffing a bit as she climbed the hill, but continued doggedly on. The zigzagging trail made the ascent a little easier, if longer.
Finally they reached an opening into the limestone hill at a point that was quite high above the valley floor. The entrance was not very exceptional, and if the path had not led to it, it would hardly have been noticed. The opening was high enough to enter without ducking or stooping and wide enough to accommodate two or three people, but a large bush growing in front of it would have made it difficult to find unless one knew exactly where to look. One of the acolytes brushed away a small spill of rubble spalling off the rocky slope above that had accumulated in front of the entrance. Ayla showed her skill with making fire quickly, which included a promise to show the Seventh how it was done; then lamps and torches were lit.
The Zelandoni of the South Land Seventh Cave led the way into the cave, followed by the First, then Jonokol, Ayla, Jondalar, and Willamar. They were followed by the local zelandonia who chose to come, including a couple of acolytes. The group numbered twelve in all. The entrance opened into the side of a passageway that required them to turn either right or left. They turned right and after a short distance, the passage widened and split into two tunnels. They had entered a room that had a stone blockage in the middle with a narrow passageway around it on one side and a wider one on the other.
“We could go either way; we’d end up in the same place, at a pile of rocks in the back with no way out except the way we came in, but there are some interesting things to see,” the Seventh said.
They took the narrow right fork and immediately came upon some small red dots on the right wall, which the Seventh pointed out. There were more on the left wall; then a little farther on they stopped to look at a horse painted on the right wall and more dots, and near it a lion with a fantastic tail held up but curled toward the back. Ayla wondered if the person who made the image had perhaps seen a lion with a broken tail that had healed with an odd twist. She knew how strangely broken bones sometimes healed.
Then on the right wall, after a few more paces along the narrow passage, they came to a panel that the Seventh called “the Deer.” The drawing made Ayla think of female megaceroses, and she remembered that they had seen the giant deer painted in the Sacred Cave near the South Land Fourth Cave. Across from it on the left were two large red dots. More red dots were painted on the wall beyond the deer, and then on the vaulted ceiling ahead were several rows of large dots.
Ayla was curious about the dots, but she was reluctant to ask questions. Finally she ventured a query. “Do you know what the dots represent?”
The tall man with the full brown beard smiled at the attractive acolyte, whose lovely features had a bit of a foreign aspect, which appealed to him. “They don’t necessarily mean the same thing to everyone, but to me, when I am in the right state of mind, they seem to be pathways leading to the next world and, more important, they show the way back.” She nodded at his answer, then smiled. He liked her look even better when she smiled.
They continued around the middle-section blockage through the narrow passage, which then opened wider. They kept veering toward the left until they were headed in the direction that led back to the place from which they started, through a much larger room that had obviously been used by bears, probably hibernating bears. The walls bore the traces of their claws as they raked them down the limestone. When they approached the opening through which they had entered the cave, the Seventh kept going straight ahead, the direction they would have been going if they had turned left when they first entered the cave.
They walked some distance, staying close to the right wall, through a long tunnel. It wasn’t until they reached an opening to the right that they saw more markings; on the low vaulted ceiling of the passage were four red negative handprints, somewhat smeared, three red dots, and some black marks. Across the opening were a series of eleven large black dots and two negative handprints that had been made by placing a hand on the wall and spattering red color on and around it. When the hand was taken away, a negative impression of the hand remained surrounded by the red ocher. The Seventh then turned right into the opening of the vaulted passage.
Beyond the smeared negative handprints, the stone on the wall became soft, as though covered with clay. The cave was high above the river valley floor, and reasonably dry inside, but it was calcareous rock, which was naturally porous, and water saturated with calcium carbonate constantly seeped through it. Sometimes, drip by infinitesimal drip, over millennia, huge stalagmite pillars formed, which seemed to grow from the floor of a limestone cave below stalactite icicles of equal size but different shape suspended from the ceiling. But sometimes the water accumulated in the limestone and left the surface of the cave walls softened enough that marks could be made with only the fingers. Significant areas of the softened stone had formed in the small room to the right, which seemed to invite visitors to mark. Portions of the walls were covered with a scrawl of finger marks, which for the most part were unorganized scribbles, although one area included the partial drawing of a megaceros defined by a huge distinctive palmate antler and a small head.
There were other signs and dots painted in red or black color where the surface was hard enough, but except for the megaceros, Ayla felt the room was filled with disorganized marks that were meaningless to her. But she was beginning to learn that no one knew what everything in the painted caves meant. It was likely that no one actually knew what anything meant, except the person who put it there, and perhaps not even then. If something painted on the walls of a cave made you feel something, then whatever you felt was what it meant. It might depend on your state of mind, which could be altered, or how receptive you were. Ayla thought about what the Seventh said when she asked him about the rows of large dots. He put it in very personal terms and told her what the dots meant to him. The caves were Sacred Sites, but she was beginning to think it was a personal, individual sacredness. Maybe that’s what she was supposed to be learning on this trip.
When they left the small room, the Seventh crossed to the left side of the main passageway that led to it. The tunnel at that point turned toward the left and they walked along the left wall for a short distance. Then the Seventh held up his lamp. It illuminated a long panel filled with animals painted in black, many superimposed on others. At first she saw the mammoths—there were many of them—then she saw the horses, the bison, and the aurochs. One of the mammoths was covered with black marks. The Seventh said nothing about the panel; he just stayed there long enough for everyone to see what they wanted to see. When he saw most people starting to lose interest, except Jonokol, who could probably have stayed much longer just to study the painting, the Seventh moved on. He next showed them a cornice on which were painted bison and mammoths.
There were several more markings and a few animals that the Seventh pointed out as they moved slowly through the cave, but the next place he stopped was truly remarkable. On a large panel were two horses painted in black, back-to-back, and the inside of the outlines of their bodies was filled with large black dots. In addition there were more dots and handprints around the outside of the horse outlines, but the most unusual aspect was the head of the right-facing horse. The painted head was quite small, but it was painted inside a natural contour of the rock that resembled the head of a horse and framed the painted head. The shape of the rock itself had told the artist that a horse needed to be painted there. All the visitors were very impressed. The First, who had seen the horse panel before, smiled at the Seventh. They had both known what was coming and they were pleased that they got the response they had expected.
“Do you know who painted this?” Jonokol asked.
“An Ancestor, but not an ancient one. Let me show you some things you may not notice immediately,” the Seventh said, stepping up closer to the stone panel. He held his left hand up over the back of the left-facing horse and bent the joint of his thumb. When he held his hand beside a red outline, it was obvious that the negative space was not a handprint, but a bent thumb. Now that it had been pointed out, they could see that there were several outlines of bent thumbs along the back of the left-hand horse.
“Why was that done?” a young acolyte asked.
“You would have to ask the Zelandoni who painted it,” the Seventh replied.
“But you said it was done by an Ancestor.”
“Yes,” the Zelandoni said.
“But the Ancestor walks in the next world now.”
“Yes.”
“Then, how can I ask?”
The Seventh only smiled at the young man, who frowned and fidgeted. There were some titters of laughter from those watching, which suddenly made the young acolyte blush.
“I can’t ask, can I?”
“Perhaps when you learn to walk in the next world,” the First said. “There are some Zelandonia who can, you know. But it is very dangerous, and not all choose to.”
“I don’t believe everything on that panel was made by the same person,” Jonokol said. “The horses probably were, and the hands, and most of the dots, but I think some of them were added later, and the thumbs, and I think I see a red fish on top of that horse, but it’s not clear.”
“You may be right,” said the Seventh. “That’s very perceptive.”
“He is an artist,” Willamar said.
Ayla noticed that Willamar often tended to keep his opinions to himself, and wondered if that was something he had learned to do on his travels. When you traveled a lot and met many new people, it probably wasn’t wise to advance your own opinions on strangers too readily.
The Seventh showed them many other marks and paintings, including a humanlike figure with lines either coming out of or going into his body, similar to those they had seen at the Fourth South Land Cave’s Sacred Site, but after the unusual horses, nothing else seemed to stand out, except for some formations far older than any of the paintings. Large disks of calcite naturally formed by the same actions that had created the cave itself decorated one room in the cave and were left alone in their own space without any embellishments added, as though they were decorations in their own right made by the Mother.
After they returned from visiting the Sacred Site, the First was anxious for them to be on their way again, but she felt she had to stay for a while to fulfill her role as the First Among Those Who Served The Great Mother, especially for the zelandonia. It wasn’t often that they had an opportunity to spend time with her. For some of the groups who lived within Zelandonii territory, the First was almost a mythical figure, a figurehead whom they acknowledged but seldom saw, and in reality, did not need to see. They were more than capable of performing their functions without her, but for the most part they were very pleased and excited to see her. It wasn’t as though they thought of her as the Mother Herself, or even the Mother incarnate, but she was definitely Her representative, and with her huge size, she was impressive. Having an acolyte who could control animals added to her stature. She had to stay a little longer.
During the evening meal, the Seventh sought out the visitors. He sat beside the First with his plate of food and smiled, then spoke softly to her. It wasn’t exactly a conspiratorial whisper, but Ayla was sure she would not have heard him if she hadn’t been sitting on the other side of the First.
“We have been talking about having a special ceremony at the Sacred Cave later tonight, and would like you and your acolyte to join us if you feel up to it,” he said.
The First smiled at him encouragingly. This might make her decision to stay a little longer a bit more interesting, she thought.
“Ayla, would you be interested in going to this special ceremony?”
“If you would like me to, I would be happy to join you,” Ayla said.
“What about Jonayla? Can Jondalar watch her?” the First asked.
“I’m sure he could,” Ayla said, not as excited about going since Jondalar wasn’t invited, but then he wasn’t a part of the zelandonia.
“I’ll come for you later,” the Seventh said. “Dress warmly. It gets cool at night.”
After things had quieted down and most people had gone either to their beds or to some other activity—talking, drinking, dancing, gambling, or whatever else they chose—the Zelandoni of the South Land Seventh Cave returned to their camp. Jondalar was waiting with Ayla and Zelandoni beside the fire. He wasn’t particularly pleased about Ayla going off at night to participate in some secret ceremony, but he didn’t say anything. A Zelandoni was, after all, what she was training to be. Part of that was secret ceremonies with other zelandonia.
The Seventh had brought some torches and lit them from the small fire that was still burning in the fireplace. He took the lead when they started out, followed by the First and then Ayla, each holding a torch. Jondalar watched them as they headed up the trail that led to the Sacred Cave. He was even tempted to follow them, but he had promised to watch Jonayla.
Wolf had apparently had the same inclination, but not long after they left, the wolf came back to the camp. He went into the tent and sniffed the child, then walked out, looked in the direction Ayla had taken, then went to Jondalar and sat down close beside him. Soon he laid his head on his front paws, still watching the direction she had gone. Jondalar put his hand on the animal’s head and ran it down across his shoulders and back a few times, petting the great canine.
“She chased you away, too, didn’t she?” the man said. Wolf whined softly.