by Jean M. Auel
“That’s the most outlandish story I’ve ever heard,” Zelandoni said, “but it shows what can happen when a donier becomes warped. I think Bodoa could have gone far if she hadn’t abused her power. It’s lucky for her that she finally came to her senses. It is said One Who Serves The Mother will pay in the next world if they misuse their power in this one. That’s one reason the zelandonia are so careful about whom they accept. There is no turning back. It’s one way we are different from leaders of a Cave. A Zelandoni is a Zelandoni for life. Even if we may sometimes want to, we cannot drop the burden.”
Everyone was quiet for a while, thinking about the story Jondalar had told. They looked up when Ramara came by. “I’m supposed to let you know, Joharran, that they brought the rhino in. Jondalar gets credit, it was his spear that killed him.”
“I’m glad to hear that, thank you, Ramara.”
Ramara would have liked to stay and hear what everyone was talking about, but she did have other things to do, and she wasn’t specifically invited, although no one would have told her go.
“You have first choice, Jondalar,” Joharran said after she left. “Are you going to take the horn?”
“I don’t think so. I’d rather have the fur.”
“Tell me what happened out there with that rhino,” Joharran asked.
Jondalar told how they happened to see the young men baiting the woolly rhinoceros and stopped to watch. “I didn’t realize how young they were until after the accident. I don’t think they wanted the rhino as much as they wanted admiration and praise, and to be the envy of their friends.”
“None of them had any experience with rhinos, and not much with hunting. They shouldn’t have tried to get one on their own. This was a hard way for them to learn that hunting rhinos, or any animal, is not really a game,” Joharran said.
“But it is true that if they had brought in that woolly rhinoceros by themselves, they would have been highly praised, and the envy of their friends,” Marthona said. “In one sense, this accident, terrible as it was, may help prevent future attempts and even worse tragedies. Think how many youngsters would be trying the same thing if they had succeeded. This way, it may make others think again before they attempt such a game, at least for a while. The mother of this young man may suffer and worry, but it may spare other mothers even more grief. I just hope Matagan survives without severe crippling.”
“As soon as Ayla saw the rhino gore him, she raced to help,” Jondalar said. “It’s not the first time she’s rushed into a dangerous situation when someone is hurt, but she worries me sometimes.”
“He was very lucky that she was there. I’m sure he would be crippled for life, or worse, if someone hadn’t been there who knew what to do,” Zelandoni said, then to Ayla: “Exactly what did you do first?”
Ayla explained in general. Zelandoni drew her out for more detail, and her reasoning. In the guise of interested conversation, Zelandoni was examining Ayla’s knowledge of the healing arts. Though she hadn’t mentioned it yet, the One Who Was First was trying to arrange a formal meeting of the zelandonia so they could learn the extent of Ayla’s training, but she was glad for this opportunity to question her alone first. It was unfortunate for poor Matagan, but Zelandoni was glad for this demonstration of her skills to the whole Summer Meeting. It gave her this opportunity to begin to approach the zelandonia with the idea of her entering into their alliance.
Zelandoni had already reevaluated her first impression several times, but now she looked at the young woman in an entirely new light. Ayla was no novice. She was an equal, a true colleague. It was entirely possible that Zelandoni might learn a few things from her. Those club moss spores, for example. That was an application Zelandoni had not used, but upon reflection, it was probably a good procedure. She was anxious to talk to Ayla alone, to compare ideas and knowledge, and it would be good to have someone to talk with at the Ninth Cave.
Zelandoni did work with the other zelandonia in the region and discussed professional matters with colleagues during the Summer Meetings. She had a couple of acolytes, of course, though she had no serious acolyte interested in healing. To have a true healer within her own Cave, especially one who brought new knowledge, that could be very worthwhile.
“Ayla,” Zelandoni said, “it might be a good idea to talk to Matagan’s family.”
“I’m not sure I know what to say to them,” Ayla said.
“They must be worried, and I think they might like to know what happened. I’m sure it would help if you reassure them.”
“How can I reassure them?” Ayla said.
“You can say that it is up to the Mother now, but there is a chance that he will be all right. Isn’t that your opinion? It’s mine,” Zelandoni said. “I think Doni smiled on that young man, because you happened to be there.”
Jondalar stifled a big yawn as he took off his tunic, a new one he had received from his mother at their mating party, woven of threads of the flax plant that she had prepared and woven. She had arranged for someone else to decorate it with some embroidery and beads, but not too much. It was very lightweight and comfortable. She had given a similar one to Ayla, made very full and loose so she could wear it as her pregnancy progressed. Jondalar had put his on immediately, but Ayla was saving hers for later.
“I’ve never heard Zelandoni speak so openly about the zelandonia,” he said as he prepared to get into their sleeping roll. “It was interesting. I never realized how difficult it could be, but I remember her saying, whenever she had some test to endure, that it had its compensations. I wonder what they are? She didn’t talk about it that much.”
They lay together in silence for a while. Ayla was tired, she realized. So tired that she could hardly think. Between the rhino hunting accident yesterday, and staying at the zelandonia lodge until late, and the mating celebration today, she had slept very little and had been under some strain. She was feeling some pain around her temples and considered getting up and making some willow bark tea for it, but she was too tired to bother.
“And mother,” Jondalar continued, almost as a verbal continuation of his thoughts. “I always thought she and Dalanar just decided to separate. I never knew why. I guess you don’t always think of your mother as anything but your mother. Someone who loves you and takes care of you.”
“I don’t think the separation was easy for her. I think she loved Dalanar very much,” Ayla said. “I can understand why. You are very much like him.”
“Not in all ways. I never wanted to be a leader. I still don’t. I would miss the feel of stone in my hands. There is nothing so satisfying as seeing a perfect blade flake off, one that turned out just the way you planned,” Jondalar said.
“Dalanar is a flint-knapper, too, Jondalar,” Ayla said.
“Yes, the best, but he doesn’t get the chance to work at it much anymore. The only one who could match him is Wymez, and he’s still back at the Lion Camp, making beautiful blades for the spears of the Mammoth Hunters. It’s a shame they will never meet. They would have enjoyed learning from each other.”
“But you’ve met them both. And you understand the stone as well as anyone. Can’t you show Dalanar what you learned from Wymez?” Ayla said.
“Yes, I have already begun,” Jondalar said. “Dalanar is as interested as I was. I’m so glad they delayed the Matrimonial until the Lanzadonii could get here. And I’m pleased that Joplaya and Echozar shared our Matrimonial. It’s a special tie. I’ve always felt a deep affection for my cousin, and this brings us closer. I think Joplaya was pleased, too.”
“I’m sure Joplaya was pleased to share a Matrimonial with you, Jondalar. I think it’s something she’s always wanted.” And this was as close as she could get to what she really wanted, Ayla added in her own mind. She did feel sorry for Joplaya, but she had to admit, she was glad of the prohibition against close cousins mating. “Echozar seems very happy.”
“I think he still couldn’t quite believe it. There were a few others who felt the sam
e way, for different reasons,” Jondalar said, putting his arm around her and nuzzling her neck.
“Echozar loves her almost beyond reason. Such love can compensate for a lot,” Ayla said, fighting to stay awake.
“He really isn’t so ugly when you get used to him. He just looks different, but you can see the Clan in him,” Jondalar said.
“I don’t think he’s ugly at all. He reminds me of Rydag, and Durc,” Ayla said. “I think they are handsome people, the Clan.”
“I know you do, and you’re right. They are handsome people, in their way. You are pretty handsome yourself, woman.” He nuzzled her neck, then kissed her, and could feel his need for her beginning, but he could see she was almost asleep. He knew she wouldn’t refuse him if he pressed her, she never did, but this wasn’t the time. It would be better when she was rested, anyway.
“I hope Matagan is going to be all right,” Jondalar said as Ayla rolled over and he snuggled against her back. He wasn’t all that tired himself, but he didn’t mind holding her.
“That reminds me, Jondalar.” She rolled back over to look at him. “Zelandoni, and the Fifth’s donier, and I were talking to his mother. We had to tell her that he could have problems. He may be able to walk again, but no one can say for sure.”
“It would be a shame if he couldn’t. He’s so young.”
“We just don’t know, of course, but even if he does walk, he may be lame,” Ayla said. “Zelandoni asked his mother if he had shown any interest in any skill or craft. The only thing that came to her mind, besides hunting, was that he made his own points for his spears. It made me think of those S’Armunai boys that Attaroa crippled. You were teaching one of them how to knap flint so he could make a life for himself. I told his mother that if it was something he wanted to do, I would ask you if you’d be willing to teach him.”
“He’s from the Fifth Cave, isn’t he?” Jondalar said, thinking over the idea.
“Yes, but maybe he could come and live at the Ninth Cave for a while. Didn’t Danug live at a different Mamutoi Camp for a year or so to learn more about flint?” Ayla said. “Maybe we could do the same for Matagan.”
“That’s true. Danug had just returned from a year of living with a Camp of flint miners, so he could learn about the stone at the source. Just as I learned at Dalanar’s mine. He couldn’t have had a better teacher than Wymez when it came to learning how to work it, but a good knapper needs to know the stone, too.” Jondalar’s forehead wrinkled as he pondered the implications. “I don’t know. I’d be happy to teach him, but I’d have to talk to Joharran about him coming to the Ninth Cave. The boy would have to have a place to live. Joharran would have to work it out with the Fifth Cave, that is, if Matagan wants to learn. He may have been making points because he couldn’t find anyone else to make them for him, and he wanted to hunt. We’ll see, Ayla. It’s a possibility. If he was hurt that badly, he will need to learn some craft.”
They both settled down in the furs, but as tired as Ayla was, sleep did not come immediately. She found herself thinking about her future, and that of the baby she was carrying. What if it was a boy and he wanted to bait rhinos? What if something else happened? And where was Wolf? He was almost like a son to her, too, but she hadn’t seen him for several days. When she finally went to sleep, she dreamed about babies, and wolves, and earthquakes. She hated earthquakes. They more than frightened her, they were like a personal harbinger of bad news.
“I can’t believe some people are still objecting to Joplaya and Echozar getting mated here,” Zelandoni said. “It’s done. They were mated. They’ve been through their isolation trial, they’re affirmed. It’s over with. They’ve even had their mating party. There is nothing more to be said.” The First was having a last cup of tea before returning to the zelandonia lodge after spending the night at the camp of the Ninth Cave. Several others were sitting around a large trenchfire, finishing their morning meal before the busy activities of the day began.
“They are talking about going home early,” Marthona said.
“That would be a shame after coming so far,” Jondalar said.
“They have what they came for, Joplaya and Echozar are officially mated, and they have their Zelandoni, or rather, Lanzadoni,” Willamar said.
“I was hoping to spend some time with them. I don’t think we’ll be seeing them again for a while,” Jondalar said.
“I was hoping the same,” Joharran said. “I’ve been talking to Dalanar about why he decided to establish the Lanzadonii as a separate group. It’s more than the fact that they live a good distance away. He has some interesting ideas.”
“He always did,” Marthona said.
“Echozar and Joplaya don’t even like to go to the main camp area because they say people stare at them, and the looks are not especially friendly,” Folara said.
“They may be feeling a little sensitive since the objections during the Matrimonial,” Proleva said.
“I’ve looked into every one. None of those objections has merit. It was all started by Brukeval, of all people, but everyone knows what his problem is,” the First said. “And Marona is just trying to make trouble because the Lanzadonii are related to Jondalar, and she still wants to get back at him and anyone around him.”
“That woman seems to be training herself in the craft of carrying a grudge,” Proleva said. “She needs something to do. Maybe if she had a child it would give her something else to think about.”
“I wouldn’t wish her as a mother on any child,” Salova said.
“Doni may agree with you,” Ramara said. “She’s never been Blessed as far as anyone knows.”
“Isn’t she related to you, Ramara? You both have the same pale blond hair,” Folara said.
“She’s a cousin, but not a close one,” Ramara said.
“I think Proleva is right,” Marthona said. “Marona does need something to do, but it doesn’t mean she has to have a baby. She should learn a craft of some kind, something to devote herself to that would be worthwhile, and that would take her thoughts away from making trouble for people just because her life hasn’t turned out the way she wanted. I think all people should have some craft or skill, something that they enjoy, are naturally drawn to, and do well. If she doesn’t, she will just continue to make trouble to get attention.”
“Even that may not be enough,” Solaban said. “Laramar has a skill, one he’s recognized, and even admired for. He makes good barma, but he’s been making all kinds of trouble. He sides with Brukeval about Joplaya and Echozar, and he’s getting attention for it, too. I heard him say to some people of the Fifth Cave that Jondalar’s hearth shouldn’t be among the First anymore because he mated a foreign woman, and she has the least status. I think he’s still resentful that Ayla wasn’t behind him at Shevonar’s burial. He pretends to ignore it, but I think he doesn’t like being last.”
“Then he should do something about it,” Proleva said angrily, “like take care of the children of his hearth!”
“Jondalar’s hearth is exactly where it should be,” Marthona said with a slight smile of satisfaction. “It was an exceptional situation, and it was decided by the leaders and the zelandonia, as it should have been. It’s not for someone like Laramar to say.”
“Perhaps that’s the thing to do,” the First said. “I think I’ll talk to Dalanar about having the zelandonia and the leaders gather and talk about this problem over Joplaya and Echozar, bring it out in the open and perhaps give those people who feel some objections an opportunity to air their feelings.”
“That might be a time for Jondalar and Ayla to talk about their experiences with flatheads … the Clan, as she calls them,” Joharran said. “I’ve been wanting to have a talk with the other leaders about them anyway.”
“Perhaps we can go over and talk to him now,” Zelandoni said. “I need to get back to the lodge. I’ve got a problem. Someone from among the zelandonia is passing around information that is supposed to be kept private. Some of it is very perso
nal information about certain people, and some is knowledge that shouldn’t be talked about outside the zelandonia. I need to find out who it is, or at the least put a stop to it.”
Ayla had been listening very carefully to all that was said, and she thought about it as everyone got up and went in various directions. The people of the Zelandonii made her think of a river. While the surface might appear calm and smooth, there could be many undercurrents at many different levels. She thought that probably Marthona and Zelandoni knew more about what was going on under the surface than most, but she guessed that even they didn’t know all of it, not even about each other. She had noted certain expressions, postures, tones of voice, that gave her clues about what might be deeper, but as with Zelandoni’s problem with someone telling things, even after that problem was resolved, there would be something else. The deep currents would shift and slide, leave little ripples on the surface and eddies around the sides. It would never come to an end as long as there were people.
“I’m going to go see to the horses,” she said to Jondalar. “Are you coming, or do you have something else to do?”
“I’ll come with you, but wait a moment,” Jondalar said. “I want to get the spear-thrower and spears I’m making for Lanidar. I’m almost finished with them and I’d like to test them out, but I’m too big. I was hoping you might be able to do it. I know they will be small for you, too, but maybe you can get a sense if they will work for him.”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine, but I’ll try them,” she said. “The best one to know will be Lanidar himself, and he won’t even know until he gains some real skill. This will give him something to practice with, and I’m sure he’ll be pleased. I have a feeling you are going to make that boy very happy.”
The sun was approaching its zenith when they started gathering up their things. They had brushed the horses, and Ayla checked them over carefully. When the season warmed, flying insects often tried to lay eggs in the moist, warm corners of the eyes of various ruminants, deer and horses in particular. Iza had taught her about the clear fluid from the bluish-white plant that was like a dead thing and that grew in shaded woods. It drew its nourishment from decaying wood since it lacked the living green chlorophyll of other plants, and its waxy surface turned black when touched, but there was no better treatment for sore or inflamed eyes than the cool liquid that oozed from a broken stem.