The Earth's Children Series 6-Book Bundle

by Jean M. Auel

  After drying with the soft skins, they spread them out and sat on them, sunning themselves. Ayla picked up the comb with four long teeth that had been carved out of mammoth ivory, which was a gift from her Mamutoi friend, Deegie, but when she started combing her hair, Jondalar stopped her.

  “Let me do that for you,” he said, taking the comb. He had developed a fondness for combing her hair after she washed it, taking pleasurable delight in feeling the thick mass of wet hair dry into soft, springy tresses. And it made her feel unaccustomedly pampered.

  “I like your mother and your sister,” Ayla said, sitting with her back to him while he combed, “and Willamar, too.”

  “They like you, too.”

  “And Joharran seems like a good leader. Do you know you and your brother have the same frown lines?” she asked. “I had to like him, he looks so familiar.”

  “He was smitten by that beautiful smile of yours,” Jondalar said. “Just as I am.”

  Ayla was quiet for a time, then showed the direction her thoughts had taken with her next comment. “You didn’t tell me there were so many people in your Cave. It’s like a whole Clan Gathering lives here,” she said. “And you seem to know them all. I’m not sure if I ever will.”

  “Don’t worry. You will. It won’t take you long,” he said, trying to work out a particularly irksome tangle. “Oh, sorry, did I pull too hard?”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m glad I finally met your Zelandoni. She knows medicine; it will be wonderful to have someone to talk with about it.”

  “She’s a powerful woman, Ayla.”

  “That’s obvious. How long has she been Zelandoni?”

  “Let me think,” he answered. “Not long after I left to live with Dalanar, I think. I still thought of her as Zolena then. She was beautiful. Voluptuous. I don’t think she was ever thin, but she is growing to look more and more like the Great Mother. I think she likes you.” He stopped combing for a moment, paused, then started to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Ayla asked.

  “I was listening to you tell her how you found me, and about Baby and all. She’ll be asking you more questions, you can be sure. I was watching her expression. Every time you answered a question, she probably wanted to ask you three more. You just made her more curious. You do it every time. You are a mystery, even to me. Do you know just how remarkable you are, woman?”

  She had turned around, and he was looking at her with loving eyes.

  “Give me a little time and I’ll show you how remarkable you can be,” she answered, a lazy, sensuous smile spreading across her face. Jondalar reached over to kiss her.

  They heard a laugh and they both jerked around.

  “Oh, did we interrupt anything?” said a woman. It was the attractive light-haired, dark-eyed woman who had listened to Folara tell her friends about the newly arrived travelers. Two other women were with her.

  “Marona!” Jondalar said, frowning slightly. “No, you are not interrupting anything. I’m just surprised to see you.”

  “Why should you be surprised to see me? Did you think I had left on an unexpected Journey?” Marona said.

  Jondalar squirmed and glanced at Ayla, who was looking at the women. “No. Of course not. I guess I’m just surprised.”

  “We were just out taking a walk when we happened to see you there, and I admit, Jondalar, I couldn’t resist wanting to make you feel a little uncomfortable. After all, we were Promised.”

  They hadn’t been formally Promised, but he didn’t argue with her. He knew he had certainly given her the impression that they were.

  “I didn’t know that you would still be living here. I thought you might have mated someone from another Cave,” Jondalar said.

  “I did,” she said. “It didn’t last, so I came back.” She had been eyeing his hard, tanned, naked body in a way that was familiar to him. “You haven’t changed much in five years, Jondalar. Except for a few nasty scars.” She turned her gaze to Ayla. “But we really didn’t come here to talk to you. We came to meet your friend,” Marona said.

  “She’ll be formally introduced to everyone tonight,” he said, feeling protective of Ayla.

  “That’s what we heard, but we don’t need a formal introduction. We just wanted to greet her and make her welcome.”

  He could hardly refuse to introduce them. “Ayla, of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi, this is Marona of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, and her friends,” he looked more closely, “Portula? Of the Fifth Cave? Is it you?” Jondalar asked.

  The woman smiled and blushed with pleasure to be remembered. Marona frowned at her. “Yes, I’m Portula, but I’m Third Cave now.” She certainly remembered him. He had been chosen for her First Rites.

  But he recalled that she had been one of those young women who had followed him around afterward, trying to get him alone, even though they were forbidden to associate for at least a year after First Rites. Her persistence had spoiled somewhat his memory of a ceremony that usually left him with a warm glow of fondness for the young woman involved.

  “I don’t think I know your other friend, Marona,” Jondalar said. She seemed to be a little younger than the other two.

  “I am Lorava, Portula’s sister,” the young woman said.

  “We all became acquainted when I was mated to a man from the Fifth Cave,” Marona said. “They came to visit me.” She turned to Ayla. “Greetings, Ayla of the Mamutoi.”

  Ayla stood up to return the greetings. Although it normally wouldn’t have bothered her, she found herself feeling slightly disconcerted to be greeting unfamiliar women with no clothes on, and wrapped her drying skin around her, tucking it in at the waist, and put her amulet back around her neck.

  “Grrreetings, Marrrona, of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonyee,” Ayla said, her slightly rolled r’s and peculiar throaty accent marking her immediately as a stranger. “Grrreetings, Porrrtula of the Fifth Cave, and Grrreetings to her Sister, Lorrrava,” she continued.

  The younger woman tittered at Ayla’s funny way of talking and then tried to hide it, and Jondalar thought he noticed a trace of a smirk on Marona’s face. His brow wrinkled in a frown.

  “I wanted to do more than greet you, Ayla,” Marona said. “I don’t know if Jondalar ever mentioned it, but as you know by now, we were Promised before he decided to leave on this great Journey he suddenly had to make. As I’m sure you must know, I wasn’t very pleased about it.”

  Jondalar was trying to think of something to say to ward off what he felt sure was coming, Marona letting Ayla know that she was very unhappy by giving her an earful of his faults, but she surprised him.

  “But that was in the past,” Marona said. “To be honest, I haven’t thought about him in years, until you arrived today. Other people may not have forgotten, however, and some of them like to talk. I wanted to give them something else to talk about, to show them that I can greet you appropriately.” She motioned toward her friends to include them. “We were going to go to my room to get ready for your Welcome Feast tonight, and we thought you might like to join us, Ayla. My cousin Wylopa is there already—you remember Wylopa, don’t you, Jondalar? I thought it would give you a chance to get acquainted with some women before all the formal meetings tonight.”

  Ayla noticed some tension, particularly between Jondalar and Marona, but under the circumstances that wouldn’t be unusual. Jondalar had mentioned Marona, and that they had been almost Promised before he left, and Ayla could imagine how she would feel in the woman’s place. But Marona had been straightforward about it, and Ayla did want to get to know some of the women better.

  She missed women friends. She had known so few women her own age when she was growing up. Uba, Iza’s true daughter, had been like a sister to her, but Uba was much younger, and while Ayla had grown to care for all the women of Brun’s clan, there were differences. No matter how hard she tried to be a good Clan woman, some things she could not change. It wasn’t until she went to live with the Mamutoi and met Deegie that s
he came to appreciate the fun of having someone her own age to talk to. She missed Deegie, and Tholie of the Sharamudoi, too, who had quickly become a friend that Ayla would always remember.

  “Thank you, Marona. I would like to join you. This is all I have to wear,” she said, quickly putting on her simple, travel-strained outfit, “but Marthona and Folara are going to help me make some clothes. I’d like to see what you wear.”

  “Perhaps we can give you a few things, as a welcoming gift,” Marona said.

  “Would you take this drying skin back with you, Jondalar?” Ayla said.

  “Of course,” he said. He held her close for a heartbeat and brushed her cheek with his, then she left with the three women.

  As Jondalar watched them go, his troubled frown deepened. Though he hadn’t formally asked Marona to be his mate, he had led her to believe they would be joined at the Matrimonial of the upcoming Summer Meeting before he left, and she had been making plans. Instead he left with his brother on a Journey and just hadn’t shown up. It must have been difficult for her.

  It wasn’t that he had loved her. There was no doubt she was beautiful. Most men considered her to be the most beautiful and desirable woman at the Summer Meetings. And though he didn’t entirely agree, she certainly had her ways when it came to sharing Doni’s Gift of Pleasure. She just wasn’t the one he desired most. But people said they were perfect for each other, they looked so good together, and everyone had expected them to tie the knot. He more or less did, too. He knew he wanted to share a hearth with a woman and her children someday, and since he couldn’t have Zolena, the one woman he wanted, it might as well be Marona.

  He had not really admitted it to himself, but he had felt relieved when he decided to go with Thonolan on a Journey. At the time, it seemed the easiest way to extricate himself from his involvement with her. He had been sure she would find someone else while he was gone. She said she had, but it hadn’t lasted. He had expected to find her with a hearth full of children. She didn’t say anything about children at all. It was surprising.

  He had no idea he would find her unmated when he returned. She was still a beautiful woman, but she did have a temper and a vicious streak. She could be very spiteful and vindictive. Jondalar’s forehead knotted with concern as he watched Ayla and the three women walking toward the Ninth Cave.

  6

  Wolf saw Ayla walking along the path through the horse meadow with the three women and raced toward her. Lorava squealed at the sight of the large carnivore, Portula gasped and looked around in panic for a place to run, and Marona blanched in fear. Ayla glanced at the women as soon as she saw the wolf and, noting their reactions, quickly signaled him to stay.

  “Stop, Wolf!” she voiced aloud, more for the benefit of the women than to halt the animal, although it did reinforce her signal. Wolf stopped in his tracks and watched Ayla, alert for a sign that he could approach her. “Would you like to meet Wolf?” she said, then, seeing that the women still showed fear, she added, “He won’t hurt you.”

  “Why would I want to meet an animal?” Marona said.

  The tone of her voice made Ayla look more closely at the light-haired woman. She noted fear but, surprisingly, an inflection of disgust and even anger. Ayla could understand the fear, but the rest of Marona’s reaction seemed inappropriate. It was certainly not the response she was used to seeing the animal evoke. The other two women looked at Marona, then seemed to follow her lead, showing no indication that they wanted to get close to the wolf.

  Wolf’s stance had become more wary, Ayla saw. He must sense something, too, she thought. “Wolf, go find Jondalar,” she said, giving him a signal to go. He stayed a moment longer, watching her, then bounded away as she turned to walk up the path toward the enormous stone shelter of the Ninth Cave with the three women.

  They passed by several people on the path, and each one showed an immediate reaction to seeing her with the women. Some cast speculative glances or bemused smiles, some seemed surprised, even startled. Only young children seemed to pay no attention to them. Ayla could not help but notice, and it put her a bit on edge.

  She studied Marona and the other women, though not obviously, using the techniques of women of the Clan. No one could be more inconspicuous than Clan women. They could quietly fade into the background and seem to disappear, and they gave the impression that they were not aware of anything around them, but that was misleading.

  From the time they were very young, girls were taught never to stare or even look directly at a man, to be unobtrusive, and yet they were expected to know when one needed or wanted her attention. As a consequence, Clan women learned to focus carefully and precisely, and with a glance absorb significant information from posture, movement, and expression very quickly. And they missed little.

  Ayla was as adept as any of them, though she wasn’t as aware of this legacy of her years with the Clan as she was of her ability to read body language. Her observations of the women put her on guard and made her think again about Marona’s motives, but she didn’t want to make any assumptions.

  Once they were under the stone ledge they headed in a different direction from the one she had gone before and entered a large dwelling more toward the middle of the space. Marona led them in and they were greeted by another woman who seemed to be waiting for them.

  “Ayla, this is my cousin, Wylopa,” Marona said on their way through the main room and into a side sleeping room. “Wylopa, this is Ayla.”

  “Greetings,” Wylopa said.

  After the rather formal introductions Ayla had had to all of Jondalar’s close kin, this offhand presentation to Marona’s cousin, with no welcome though it was her first time in this dwelling, struck Ayla as odd. It was not consistent with the behavior she had already come to expect from the Zelandonii.

  “Grrreetings, Wylopa,” Ayla said. “This dwelling, is it yourrrs?”

  Wylopa was surprised at Ayla’s unusual enunciation and was so unused to hearing any language other than her own, she had some trouble understanding the stranger.

  “No,” Marona interjected. “This is the home of my brother and his mate, and their three children. Wylopa and I live here with them. We share this room.”

  Ayla glanced quickly around at the space set off by panels, similar to the way Marthona’s dwelling was divided.

  “We were going to fix our hair and faces for the celebration tonight,” Portula said. She glanced at Marona with an ingratiating smile, which became a smirk when she looked back at Ayla. “We thought you might like to get ready with us.”

  “Thank you for asking me. I would like to see what you do,” Ayla said. “I don’t know Zelandonii ways. My friend Deegie used to fix my hair sometimes, but she is Mamutoi, and lives very far away. I know I will never see her again, and I miss her. It’s nice to have women friends.”

  Portula was surprised and touched by the newcomer’s honest and friendly response; her smirk warmed to a real smile.

  “Since it’s a feast to welcome you,” Marona said, “we thought we would give you something to wear, too. I asked my cousin to gather some clothes for you to try on, Ayla.” Marona looked at clothing that had been placed around. “You’ve found a good selection, Wylopa.” Lorava giggled. Portula looked away.

  Ayla noticed several outfits spread out on the bed and floor, primarily leggings and long-sleeved shirts or tunics. Then she looked at the clothing the four women were wearing.

  Wylopa, who seemed older than Marona, was wearing an outfit similar to the ones laid out, worn quite loose, Ayla noticed. Lorava, who was rather young, had on a short sleeveless leather tunic, belted around the hips, cut somewhat differently from the ones spread out. Portula, who was fairly plump, wore a full skirt made of some kind of fibrous material and a loose-fitting top with a long fringe that hung over the skirt. Marona, who was thin but shapely, had on a very short sleeveless top, open in front, profusely decorated with beads and feathers, with a reddish fringe around the bottom that stopped just below h
er waist, and a loincloth skirt, similar to the kind Ayla had worn on hot days on her Journey.

  Jondalar had shown her how to take a rectangular strip of soft leather, pull it up between her legs, and tie it on with a thong around her waist. Letting the long ends hang down both front and back, and pulling them together at the sides, made the loincloth resemble a short skirt. Marona’s, she noticed, was fringed on both front and back ends. She had left an open space on both sides, showing a long, bare, shapely leg, and tied the thong low, barely over her hips, causing the fringe in front and back to sway when she walked. Ayla thought Marona’s clothes—the very short top that did not meet in front and could never be closed, and the skimpy loincloth skirt—looked small for her, as though they had been made for a child, not a woman. Yet she was certain that the light-haired woman chose her clothing purposefully and with great care.

  “Go ahead, pick something out,” Marona said, “and then we’ll fix your hair. We want this to be a special night for you.”

  “All these things look so big, and heavy,” Ayla said. “Won’t they be too warm?”

  “It cools off at night,” Wylopa said, “and these clothes are supposed to be worn loose. Like this.” She lifted her arms and showed the loose blousy fit.

  “Here, try this on,” Marona said, picking up a tunic. “We’ll show you how it’s supposed to be worn.”

  Ayla removed her own tunic, then her amulet bag from around her neck and put it on a shelf, and let the women slip the other tunic over her head. Even though she was taller than any of the four women, it hung down to her knees and the long sleeves fell below her fingertips.

  “This is too big,” Ayla said. She didn’t see Lorava, but she thought she heard a muffled sound behind her.

  “No, it’s not,” Wylopa said, smiling broadly. “You just need a belt, and you’re supposed to roll up the sleeves. Like I did, see? Portula, bring that belt, so I can show her.”

  The plump woman brought a belt, but she wasn’t smiling anymore, unlike Marona and her cousin, who smiled excessively. Marona took the belt and wrapped it around Ayla. “You tie it low, like this, around your hips, and let it blouse out, and then the fringe hangs down. See?”