The Earth's Children Series 6-Book Bundle

by Jean M. Auel

  “I think it has to do with their mating,” Ramara said.

  She thought about her own Matrimonial and glanced at her dark-haired mate. His hair was probably the darkest of anyone of the Ninth Cave, and when she met him, she liked the contrast he made with her own pale blond coloring. Solaban’s hair was almost black, though his eyes were blue, and his skin was so pale that he often sunburned, especially early in the summer season. She also thought he was the most handsome of all the men of the Cave, even compared to Jondalar. She understood the appeal of the tall blond man with the extraordinary blue eyes, and when she was younger, like most women, she had been infatuated with him. But she learned what love was when she met Solaban. Jondalar didn’t seem quite so attractive since his return, perhaps because he gave all his attention to Ayla. Besides, she rather liked the woman.

  “Why can’t they get mated just like everyone else?” Solaban said, obviously feeling grouchy.

  “Well, they aren’t just like everyone else. Jondalar just returned from a Journey that was so long, no one expected him to come back, and Ayla isn’t even Zelandonii. But she really wants to be. At least that’s what I heard,” Ramara said.

  “When she mates him, she’ll be the same as Zelandonii anyway,” Solaban said. “Why do they need to bother with an acceptance ceremony for her?”

  “It’s not the same. She wouldn’t be Zelandonii. She’d be ‘Ayla of the Mamutoi, mated to Jondalar of the Zelandonii.’ Whenever she was introduced, everyone would know she was a foreigner,” she said.

  “She just has to open her mouth and everyone knows it anyway,” he said. “Making her Zelandonii isn’t going to change that.”

  “Yes, it will. She might talk like a stranger, but when people meet her, they would know that she isn’t a foreigner anymore,” Ramara said.

  Ramara looked at the tools, weapons, and clothing covering every flat surface. She knew her mate and understood the real reason for his irritability, and it had nothing to do with Ayla or Jondalar. She smiled to herself and said, “If it wasn’t raining out, I’d take the boys to Wood River Valley to watch the horses. All the children like to do that. They don’t usually get a chance to see animals up close.”

  Solaban’s frown deepened. “That means they’ll have to stay here, I suppose.”

  Ramara flashed a teasing grin. “No, I don’t think so. I thought I’d go to the other end of the shelter where everyone is cooking and getting things prepared, and help the women who are watching the children so their mothers can work. The boys can play with the others who are their age. When Proleva asked me to watch Jaradal, she meant she wanted me to be particularly aware of him. All the mothers do that. The watchers have to know who they are responsible for, especially when children get to be about Robenan’s age. They get more independent and sometimes try to go off on their own,” Ramara said, watching her mate’s frown ease. “But you should get done before the ceremony. I may have to bring the boys here afterward.”

  Solaban looked around at the neatly organized assortment of his personal things, and the rows of antler, bone, and ivory trimmed to about the same size, then shook his head. He still didn’t know precisely what to take with him, but it was this way every year. “I will,” he said, “as soon as I get everything set out so I can see what I want to take to the Summer Meeting for myself, and what I want to take to trade.” Besides being one of Joharran’s close aides, Solaban was a maker of handles, especially knife handles.

  “I think most everyone is here,” Proleva said, “and it’s stopped raining.”

  Joharran nodded, went out from under the overhang that had protected them from the cloudburst, and jumped up on the platform stone at the far end of the shelter. He looked at the people starting to gather around, then smiled at Ayla.

  Ayla smiled back, but she was feeling nervous. She glanced up at Jondalar, who was looking at the crowd forming around the large raised stone.

  “Weren’t we here not very long ago?” Joharran said with an ironic smile. “When I first introduced her to you, we didn’t know much about Ayla, except that she had traveled here with my brother Jondalar, and had an unusual way with animals. We have learned much more about Ayla of the Mamutoi in the short time that she’s been here.

  “I think we all suspected that Jondalar planned to mate the woman he brought home with him, and we were right. They will join at the First Matrimonial of the Summer Meeting. Once they are mated, they will live with us at the Ninth Cave, and I for one welcome them.”

  There were several comments of agreement from the assembly.

  “But Ayla is not a Zelandonii. Whenever a Zelandonii mates someone who is not one of us, there are usually negotiations and other customs that need to be worked out between us and the other people. In Ayla’s case, however, the Mamutoi live so far away, we’d have to travel a year just to meet her people, and to be honest, I’m getting too old to make such a long Journey.”

  Laughter and comments greeted his remark. “Getting long in the tooth, Joharran?” a young man called out.

  “Wait until you’ve lived as many years as I have. Then you’ll know what old is,” a white-haired man said.

  When things settled down, Joharran continued. “Once they are mated, most people will think of her as Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, but Jondalar suggested that the Ninth Cave accept her as Zelandonii before the Matrimonial. In effect, he has asked that we adopt her. It would make the Matrimonial ceremonies easier and less confusing, and we wouldn’t have to get special dispensations from everyone at the Summer Meeting if we do it before we go.”

  “What does she want?” a woman asked.

  Everyone turned to look at her. Ayla swallowed hard, and then, concentrating on saying the words as correctly as she could, she said, “More than anything in this world, I want to be a Zelandonii woman, and mated to Jondalar.”

  Though she tried, she couldn’t prevent the unusual quality of the way she spoke, and no one who heard her could mistake her foreign origins; but the simple statement, spoken with such sincere conviction, won most people over.

  “She did travel a long way to get here.” “She’ll be the same as Zelandonii anyway.”

  “But what is her status?” Laramar asked.

  “She will have the same status as Jondalar,” Marthona said. She had expected him to make trouble, and this time she was ready.

  “Jondalar has a high position in the Ninth Cave because you are his mother, but we don’t know anything about her, except that she was raised by flatheads,” Laramar said loudly.

  “She was also adopted by the highest-ranked Mamut, which is what they call a Zelandoni. She would have been adopted by the leader if the Mamut hadn’t spoken for her,” Marthona said.

  “Why does there always seem to be one who objects?” Ayla said to Jondalar in Mamutoi. “Are we going to have to make fire with a firestone and then give him one to persuade him, like Frebec at the Lion Camp?”

  “Frebec turned out to be a good man; somehow I don’t think Laramar will,” Jondalar murmured back.

  “That’s what she says. How do we know?” Laramar said, continuing his loud objections.

  “Because my son was there, and he says the same thing,” Marthona replied. “The leader, Joharran, doesn’t doubt them.”

  “Joharran is family. Of course Jondalar’s brother isn’t going to doubt her. She will be part of your family, and you all want her to have a high status,” Laramar said.

  “I don’t know why you are objecting, Laramar,” a voice from another quarter spoke out. People turned and were surprised to see that it was Stelona. “If it wasn’t for Ayla, your mate’s youngest daughter would probably have starved to death. You didn’t tell us that Tremeda got sick and lost her milk, or that Lanoga was trying to keep her alive with mashed-up roots. Ayla did. I wonder if you even knew. Zelandonii don’t let Zelandonii starve. Several of us mothers are feeding the baby, and Lorala is already getting stronger. I would be more than willing to sponsor Ayla, i
f she needs one. She is a woman the Zelandonii would be proud to claim.”

  Several other women spoke up, defending Ayla, all nursing mothers holding their infants. The story of Ayla and Tremeda’s baby had started to spread, but not everyone knew, or knew the entire story. Most people understood what kind of “sickness” Tremeda had, but in any case her milk was gone, and they were glad the baby was being fed.

  “Do you have any more objections, Laramar?” Joharran said. The man shook his head and backed away. “Does anyone else have any objections to accepting Ayla into the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii?” There was a background murmur, but no one spoke up. He reached down and gave Ayla a hand to help her up onto the level stone, then they turned to face the people. “Since several people are willing to sponsor her, and there are no objections, let me introduce Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, formerly a Member of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi, Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth, Chosen by the Spirit of the Cave Lion, Protected by the Cave Bear, Friend of the horses, Whinney and Racer, and the four-legged hunter, Wolf.” He had spoken to Jondalar to make sure he got her names and ties right, and memorized them. “And soon to be mated to Jondalar,” he added. “Now, let’s go eat!”

  They both got down from the Speaking Stone, and as they made their way toward the food, they were stopped by people introducing themselves again, commenting on Tremeda’s baby, and in general welcoming her.

  But one person had no wish to welcome her. Laramar was not a man who was easily embarrassed, but he had been thoroughly chastened and was not happy about it. Before Laramar left the group, he glared at Ayla with a look so full of anger, it left her chilled. He didn’t know Zelandoni had seen it, too. When they reached the place where the food was being served, they noticed that Laramar’s barma was being offered, but the one who was pouring it was his mate’s oldest son, Bologan.

  As people were beginning to eat, it started raining again. They found places beneath the deep overhanging shelf to enjoy their food, some sitting on the ground, others on logs or blocks of stone that had been brought in at various times and left for future use. Zelandoni caught up with Ayla as she was walking toward Jondalar’s family.

  “I’m afraid you have an enemy in Laramar,” she said.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Ayla said. “I didn’t mean to cause problems for him.”

  “You didn’t cause his problems. He was trying to cause you problems, or rather trying to humiliate Marthona and her family, and brought problems on himself instead. But now, I think he will blame you,” Zelandoni said.

  “Why should he want to make trouble for Marthona?”

  “Because he is the lowest-ranked member of the Ninth Cave and she and Joharran are the highest, and he managed to catch her in a slight mistake the other day. As you may already know, that is hard to do. I think it may have given him a temporary illusion of triumph, and he liked it so well, he thought he’d try it again,” the donier said.

  Ayla’s frown deepened as Zelandoni explained. “It may not be just Marthona he wanted to get the better of,” Ayla said. “I think I made a mistake the other day, too.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The day I went there to show Lanoga how to make food for the baby and give her a bath, and clean herself, Laramar came home. I’m sure he didn’t know the baby had no milk, he didn’t even know about Bologan’s injuries. It made me angry; I don’t like him. Wolf was with me, and I know when Laramar saw him, he got scared. He tried to cover up his fear, and I found myself feeling like a wolf pack leader wanting to put a lower-ranked wolf in his place. I knew I shouldn’t have done it. It just gave him bad feelings toward me,” Ayla said.

  “Do leaders of wolf packs really put lower-ranked wolves in their place?” Zelandoni said. “How do you know?”

  “I learned to hunt meat-eaters before I learned to hunt meat,” Ayla said. “I’d spend whole days watching them. That may be why Wolf can live with people. Their ways are not so different from ours.”

  “How amazing!” Zelandoni said. “And, I’m afraid you’re right. You created some bad feelings, but it wasn’t entirely your fault. At the burial, you were among the highest ranked of the Ninth Cave, which is where I thought you belonged; Marthona and I agreed. He wanted you in the place he thought you belonged, which was behind him. Traditionally, he was correct.

  “At a burial, all the members of a Cave should go before anyone who is visiting. But you are not exactly a visitor. First you were with the zelandonia, because you are a healer, and they always go first. Then you were with Jondalar and his family, which is also where you belong, as everybody agreed today. But at the burial, he mentioned it to Marthona and caught her off guard. That’s why he thought he’d triumphed. Then, without even knowing it, you put him in his place. He thought he could get back at both of you through Marthona, but he seriously underestimated her.”

  “There you are,” Jondalar said. “We were just talking about Laramar.”

  “So were we,” Ayla said, but she doubted that their conversation had brought out the same insights. Partly because of her own doing, and partly because of circumstances she wasn’t aware of, she had created an enemy. Another one, she realized. She hadn’t wanted to cause bad feelings in any of Jondalar’s people, but in the short time she had been there, she had made two people angry at her. Marona hated her, too. She realized she hadn’t seen the woman for some time and wondered where she was.

  21

  The people of the Ninth Cave had been making preparations for their annual trek to the Summer Meeting of the Zelandonii since they returned from the last one, but as the time of their departure drew near, activities and anticipation became more intense. There were final decisions about what to take with them and what to leave behind, but it was the process of closing down their dwellings for the summer that always made them aware that they were leaving and would not be back until cold winds blew.

  A few people would stay behind for one reason or another: temporary or more serious illness, to finish a project, to wait for someone. Others would return occasionally to their winter home, but most would be gone all summer. Some people would stay close to the place that had been chosen for the Summer Meeting, but many would travel to different places for diverse reasons throughout the warm season.

  There would be hunting trips, harvesting treks, visits to relatives, sojourns to group meetings of other Zelandonii, and travels to neighboring peoples. Some young people would venture farther afield and go on Journeys. Jondalar’s return with new discoveries and inventions, a beautiful and exotic woman with rare talents, and exciting stories would encourage some of those who had been thinking about it to decide to go on a Journey of their own, and some mothers who knew that his brother had died far away would be unhappy that Jondalar had returned and caused such excitement.

  The evening before they planned to leave, the entire Ninth Cave was eager and restless. When Ayla thought about the Summer Meeting, where she and Jondalar would be mated, she could hardly believe it was really true. Sometimes she would wake up and be almost afraid to open her eyes for fear that it might be just a wonderful dream and she would find herself back in the small cave in her lonely valley. She thought often of Iza, wishing that somehow the woman she regarded as her mother could know that she would soon have a mate, and that she had finally found her people, at least the ones she chose to be her people.

  Ayla had long ago accepted the fact that she would never know the people to whom she was born, or even who they were, and realized that it didn’t matter. When she was living with the Clan, she had wanted to be one of them, a woman of the Clan, which clan was not important. But when she finally understood that she was not Clan, and never would be, then the only distinction that mattered was that she was one of the Others, in her mind kin to all of the Others. She had been happy to be Mamutoi, the people who had adopted her, and she would have been content to be Sharamudoi, the people who had asked Jondalar and her to stay and live with them. She wanted to
be Zelandonii only because they were Jondalar’s people, not because they were any better than, or even very different from, any of the Others.

  During the long winter, when most people stayed close to the Ninth Cave, many of them spent time making gifts they would be giving to people when they saw them again at the next Summer Meeting. When she heard people talking about gifts, Ayla decided to make some, too. Though she’d had only a short time to work on them, she made small tokens that she planned to give to those people who had been especially kind to her, and who she knew would be giving gifts to her and Jondalar for their Matrimonial. She had a surprise for Jondalar, too. She had brought it with her all the way from the Summer Meeting of the Mamutoi. It was the one thing she insisted on taking with her through all the adversities and hardships of their Journey.

  Jondalar was planning a surprise of his own. He had discussed with Joharran the best place to establish a home for Ayla and himself within the abri of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, and he wanted it to be ready for Ayla when they returned in the fall. To that end, he had been making arrangements. He talked with the fabricators of outside wall panels, and the people who were best at the construction of the lower stone walls, with those who were skilled at stone paving, and the ones who made interior room division panels, with the specialists in making all the components required to erect a dwelling.

  Planning their future home involved some complicated trading and bargaining. First, Jondalar agreed to trade some good stone knives for fresh hides from several people, mostly from the recent megaceros and bison hunts. The blades of the knives would be knapped by him, but they would be hafted in finely made handles fabricated by Solaban, whose work Jondalar especially admired. In return for the handles, Jondalar had agreed to produce several burins—chisel-like flint carving tools—to the handle-maker’s specific requirements. Long talks between the two men that included drawings made with charcoal on birch bark had created an understanding of what was wanted.