The Earth's Children Series 6-Book Bundle

by Jean M. Auel

  The Ninth Cave set up their camp on the grassy level meadow between the woods and The River close to the small stream. Most people agreed it was a good enough campsite. No other Cave was likely to set up their lodges upstream from them and muddy their water, it was too far from the center of activities. Their water would stay clean for their own swimming, bathing, and washing of clothes. The spring-fed stream would provide clear drinking water no matter how befouled The River might become after hundreds of people used it for their needs.

  The woods offered shade and firewood, and it appeared small enough that it would not draw too many people in search of the same resources, at least not for a while. Most would head for the larger grove of trees farther downstream. The woods, along with the meadow, also provided wild vegetables—berries, nuts, roots, leaves—and small game. Fish were plentiful in The River, as were freshwater mollusks. The site had many advantages.

  Its major disadvantage was the distance people would have to walk to reach the area where most of the activities would take place. Some people did think it was too far, primarily those who had family or close friends in other Caves that had already made their camp in places they thought were more desirable. Several of those decided to camp with others. In a way, Jondalar was glad. It would make room for Dalanar and the Lanzadonii when they arrived, if they wouldn’t mind being somewhat out of the way.

  To Ayla, it was perfect. The animals would have a place away from the thronging masses of people, with a meadow for them to graze in. The animals were already the objects of increased attention, which meant, of course, that Ayla was, too. She remembered how skittish Whinney, Racer, and Wolf had been when they had first arrived at the Mamutoi gathering, though they seemed to accept large numbers of people more easily now, perhaps even better than she did. People spoke out openly, and Ayla couldn’t help hearing. They seemed to be especially astonished at how well the horses and the wolf tolerated each other—they actually appeared to be friends—and how well they all responded to the foreign woman and Marthona’s son.

  She and Jondalar rode up the stream and found the idyllic glen with its pond. It was exactly the sort of place they loved. It was so perfect for them, it made them feel it was theirs, though of course anyone could use it, but Jondalar doubted that it would be used much. Most people came to the Summer Meeting for the group activities and had less need for moments of solitude than Ayla, or the animals, or, he had to admit, himself. She was delighted to discover that the dense brush was mostly hazelnut shrubs, one of her most favorite foods. The nuts were not ripe yet, but it looked as if it would be a good crop, and Jondalar was already planning to come back to see if any of the rocks and stones on the slope on the far side of the pond were flint.

  After the people settled in and began surveying their location, most thought it was a choice spot. Joharran was pleased to have arrived soon enough to lay claim to it. He felt it would have been chosen sooner had there not been a second and somewhat larger tributary that meandered through the middle of the large field that encompassed the Summer Meeting. Most of the earlier-arriving Caves had arranged themselves along the banks of that stream, knowing the waters of The River would soon become polluted from overuse. It was the area Joharran first tried, but he was pleased now that he had looked farther afield.

  Jondalar thought that his conversation with his brother had made him consider looking for a place that would be comfortable for the horses and mentioned that he appreciated it. Joharran didn’t correct him. He knew he had been concerned for the comfort of the people, but perhaps the comment about the animals had stayed in the back of his mind and helped him find the place. He couldn’t say it wasn’t true, and if it made his brother feel a little indebted to him, he didn’t mind. It could be hard enough leading such a big Cave, and he never knew when he might have to call upon Jondalar for assistance.

  Since it was so late, they decided to wait until morning to erect their summer lodges, and used their traveling tents that night. Once the camp was established, a few people went to the main area, seeking friends or relatives they had not seen since the last Summer Meeting and to see what was planned for the next day; but most people were tired and decided to stay close by. Many looked over the local area, deciding exactly where they wanted to situate their camp and their individual lodges and to locate where various vegetation grew, particularly the materials they would need to construct their summer residences.

  Ayla and Jondalar tethered the horses near the woods and stream, feeling it would be best to keep them secured, more to protect them from people than to restrain them. They would have liked to give them more freedom, but perhaps, after the entire encampment was familiar with them and would not be tempted to hunt them, they could let them wander as they wished, as they did near the Ninth Cave.

  In the morning, after they were sure the horses were settled down, Jondalar and Ayla accompanied Joharran as he went to the Summer Meeting’s main area in search of other leaders. Decisions needed to be made about hunting, foraging, and sharing the products of those excursions, and to plan activities and ceremonies, including the first summer Matrimonial. Wolf paced alongside Ayla. Everyone had heard of the woman who had an uncanny control over animals, but hearing was not the same as seeing. As they threaded their way between campsites, stares of consternation followed them, and if a person didn’t happen to see them approach and was suddenly confronted with the sight, the first response was shock and fear. Even people who knew Joharran and Jondalar gaped instead of calling out greetings.

  They were walking behind some low bushes, which hid the wolf, when a man approached them. “Jondalar, I heard you were back from your Journey, and brought a woman with you,” he called out, running up. “I’d like to meet her.” His speech had a strange impediment that Ayla couldn’t quite place, then she realized he spoke somewhat like a child, but with a man’s voice. He had a lisp.

  Jondalar looked up and frowned. The man was not someone he was particularly happy to see. In fact, it was the one person of all the Zelandonii that he hoped he would not see, and he did not like the assumed friendliness, but he felt he had no choice but to make the introduction.

  “Ayla of the Mamutoi, this is Ladroman of the Ninth Cave,” he said, not realizing that he had introduced her with her former status. His voice was as neutral as he could make it, but Ayla immediately detected the disapproving undertone and glanced at him. The tension of his jaw showed he was just short of gritting his teeth, and the stiff, unwelcoming posture gave her further clues that this was not someone he was pleased to see.

  The man held out both hands and smiled, showing his two missing front teeth, as he moved toward her. She thought she knew who he might be, but the empty space in the front of his mouth confirmed it. This was the man Jondalar had fought with; Jondalar had hit this man and knocked out those two front teeth. As a result, Jondalar had had to leave the Ninth Cave and went to live with Dalanar for a while, which, as it turned out, was probably the best thing that could have happened. It gave him a chance to get to know the man of his hearth and to learn the skill he ultimately grew to love—knapping flint—from the one who was acknowledged the best.

  Ayla had learned enough about the tattooed facial markings to realize that the man was an acolyte, training to become a Zelandoni. Then, to her surprise, she felt Wolf brush against her leg as he moved forward to put himself between her and the stranger, and she heard his low warning growl. The only time the wolf ever did that was when he felt she was threatened. Maybe he’s sensing Jondalar’s stiffness and rejection, she thought, but for some reason, Wolf did not like this man, either. The man hesitated, stepping back, his eyes opened wide with fear.

  “Wolf! Stay back,” she said in Mamutoi as she stepped ahead to respond to the formal greeting. “I grrreet you, Ladrrroman ob the Ninth Cave.” She took both his hands. They were damp.

  “It’s not Ladroman anymore, or the Ninth Cave. I am Madroman of the Fifth Cave of the Zelandonii now, and an acolyte in the zel
andonia. You are welcome here, Ayla of the … what was that name? Muh, Mutoni?” he said, watching the wolf, whose growl had increased in volume. He immediately let go of her hands. He had noticed her accent, but the wolf had so disconcerted him, he hardly paid attention.

  “And she is not Ayla of the Mamutoi anymore, Madroman,” Joharran corrected. “She is now Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii.”

  “You’ve been accepted by the Zelandonii already? Well, Mamuto or Zelandonii, I’m glad we happened to meet, but I have to go … to a meeting, now,” he said, backing away as fast as he could. He turned around and almost ran back the way he had come. Ayla looked at the two brothers. They were grinning with almost identical smiles.

  Joharran saw a group of the people he was looking for. Zelandoni was among them. She motioned the three over, but it was the fourth, Wolf, who got most of the attention. Ayla signaled him back while formal introductions were made. She didn’t know if he would react to someone else the way he had to Madroman. Several people were surprised when the foreign woman with the strange accent was introduced as Zelandonii, formerly Mamutoi, but it was explained that since there was no question about where she would live after she and Jondalar were mated, the Ninth Cave had already accepted her.

  The most important decision, other than deciding to mate, was whether the man would live with the woman’s people or if the woman would go to live with his. In either case, acceptance by both Caves was necessary, but most especially by the people who would have a new member living with them. Because they knew where Jondalar and Ayla would live, the Ninth Cave’s acceptance of her settled the matter.

  Ayla kept the wolf close while she and Jondalar listened to the secular and spiritual leaders discuss plans. It was decided to have a ceremony the following night to find out the best direction to go for the first hunt. If all went well, the First Matrimonial would be held not long after. Ayla had learned that there were always two Matrimonials each summer. The first was to mate those couples, usually from the same region, who had decided to mate during the previous winter. The second was held shortly before they left in the fall. Most of those couples were from more widespread Caves who made their decision during the Summer Meeting, perhaps having met only that year or a season or two before.

  “Speaking of the Matrimonial,” Jondalar said, “I would like to make a request. Since Dalanar is the man of my hearth and he is planning to come, I would like to ask if the first ceremony can be delayed until he arrives. I would like to have him here for my mating.”

  “I wouldn’t object to a delay of a few days, but what if Dalanar doesn’t come until much later?” a Zelandoni asked.

  “I would prefer to mate during the first ceremony, but if Dalanar is delayed too long, I would be willing to wait for the second. I would like him to be present when we are joined,” Jondalar said.

  “That’s acceptable,” the Zelandoni Who Was First said, “but I think we have to decide just how long we can hold off the First Matrimonial, and that depends on the others who want to mate now.”

  An older woman with Zelandoni markings on her face rushed to join them. “I understand Dalanar and the Lanzadonii will be joining us this season,” she said to Joharran. “He sent a messenger to Zelandoni of the Nineteenth, since they are closest to the Summer Meeting campsite, to let everyone know. The daughter of his mate is to be joined this summer, and he wants a full Matrimonial for her. I understand that he would like to find a donier for his people. This could be a real opportunity for an experienced acolyte or new Zelandoni.”

  “Jondalar told us, Zelandoni of the Fourteenth,” Joharran said.

  “That’s one reason he’s bringing his Lanzadonii here this year,” Jondalar explained. “They don’t have a healer, although Jerika has some knowledge, and they don’t have anyone to perform ceremonies for them. He doesn’t feel they can hold a proper Matrimonial until they have a donier of their own. We visited on our way here. Joplaya promised while we were there. She is going to mate with Echozar …”

  “Dalanar is going to allow Joplaya to mate a man whose mother was a flathead? A man of mixed spirits?” Zelandoni of the Fourteenth interrupted. “How could he do that? His own daughter! I know Dalanar has accepted some unusual people into his Cave, but how can he take in those animals?”

  “They are not animals!” Ayla said, frowning in anger at the woman.

  23

  The woman turned to look at Ayla, surprised that the newcomer had spoken out, and even more that she had contradicted her so brazenly. “It is not your place to speak,” she said. “It is not your concern what we say at this meeting. You are a visitor here, not even Zelandonii.” She knew the foreign woman was supposed to become the mate of Jondalar, but she apparently needed to be corrected and to learn proper behavior.

  “Forgive me, Zelandoni of the Fourteenth,” the One Who Was First interjected. “Ayla was introduced to the others, I should have introduced you to her when you first came. Actually, Ayla is Zelandonii. The Ninth Cave accepted her before we left.”

  The woman turned toward the First, and her hostility was almost palpable. Ayla discerned that the animosity was of long standing, and she recalled something about a Zelandoni who had expected to be named First but was passed over in favor of Zelandoni of the Ninth. She guessed this was the one.

  “Ayla and Jondalar tell us flatheads are people, not animals. I think it’s something we need to talk about, and I planned to bring it up,” Joharran said, stepping forward, trying to calm the situation. “But I don’t know if this is the best time, we have other things to discuss first.”

  “I don’t know why we have to talk about them at all,” the woman retorted.

  “I think it’s important, if only for our own safety,” Joharran said. “If they are intelligent people—and Ayla and Jondalar have nearly convinced me they are—and we have been treating them like animals, why haven’t they objected?”

  “Probably because they are animals,” the woman said.

  “Ayla says it’s because they choose to avoid us,” Joharran said, “and for the most part, we avoid them. But if we think of them only as animals, perhaps not hunting them, but claiming all the land as ours, as Zelandonii territory—hunting grounds, gathering fields, everything—what if they start resisting? And what should we do if they decide to change and start to claim some of it for themselves? I think we need to be prepared; at least we ought to talk about the possibility.”

  “I think you are making too much of it, Joharran. If flatheads haven’t made claims to territory before, why should they start now?” Zelandoni of the Fourteenth said, dismissing the entire concept.

  “But they do make claims to territory,” Jondalar said. “On the other side of the glacier, the Losadunai understand that the land north of the Mother River is flathead country. They stay south, except for some young ruffians who have been stirring up trouble, and I’m afraid the Clan won’t put up with it much longer, especially the younger ones.”

  “What makes you say that?” Joharran said. “You never mentioned this before.”

  “Shortly after we started out, when Thonolan and I got down off the other side of the glacier over the highland to the east, we met up with a band of flatheads—men of the Clan—probably a hunting party,” Jondalar said, “and had a small confrontation.”

  “What kind of confrontation?” Joharran asked. Everyone else was paying close attention, too.

  “A young one threw a stone at us, I think because we were on their side of the river, in their territory. Thonolan threw a spear back when he saw someone moving in the woods where they were hiding. Suddenly they all stepped forward and showed themselves. Two of us against several of them, the odds were not good. To tell you the truth, I don’t think the odds would be good one on one. They may be short, but they are powerful. I wasn’t at all sure how to get out of it, it was their leader who resolved it.”

  “How could you tell they had a leader? And even if they did, how do you know they weren’t
just a pack, like wolves?” another man asked. Jondalar thought he recognized him, but wasn’t sure. He had been gone five years, after all.

  “Now I know for sure, I’ve met others since, but even then it was obvious. He told the youngster who had thrown the stone to return Thonolan’s spear and retrieve the stone, then they slipped back into the woods,” Jondalar said. “He put everything back the way it was, and thought that settled it. Since no one was hurt, I guess it did.”

  “Told the youngster? Flatheads can’t talk!” the man said.

  “In fact, they can,” Jondalar said. “They just don’t talk like we do. They use hand signs, mostly. I’ve learned some of them, and I’ve communicated with them, but Ayla is much better. She knows their language.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” Zelandoni of the Fourteenth said.

  Jondalar smiled. “I did at first, too,” he said. “I never saw one up close before that encounter. Have you?”

  “No, I can’t say that I have, and I have no desire to,” the woman said. “I understand they rather resemble bears.”

  “They don’t resemble bears, any more than we do. They look like people, a different kind of people, but there is no mistaking them. That hunting party was carrying spears and wearing clothes. Did you ever see bears do that?” Jondalar asked.

  “So they are clever bears,” she said.

  “Don’t underestimate them. They are not bears, or any other kind of animal. They are people, intelligent people,” Jondalar said.

  “You said you communicated with them? When?” asked the man Jondalar couldn’t quite place.

  “Once, when we were staying with the Sharamudoi, I got into trouble on the Great Mother River. The Sharamudoi live beside her, not too far from the end where she empties into Beran Sea. When you first get down off the glacier, the Mother is hardly a stream, but where they live she is huge, so wide in places, she almost looks like a lake. But though she can seem placid and smooth, she has a deceptively deep, swift, and strong current. By then so many other rivers, large and small, have flowed into her that when you see her from the home of the Sharamudoi, you know why she’s called the Great Mother River.” Jondalar was getting into Story-Telling mode, and people were listening with rapt attention.