The Earth's Children Series 6-Book Bundle

by Jean M. Auel

  “Have you spoken to Proleva yet about the plans for tonight?” Jondalar asked Ayla as she started toward the camp of the Ninth Cave. He smiled at the baby and tickled her, and received a delighted giggle in return.

  “No. I just returned from the new Sacred Cave the First wanted me to see, and then went to find Jonayla. I’ll ask her after I change,” Ayla said, as they touched cheeks. A couple of the young men, primarily the ones who were nervous about Wolf, looked surprised when Ayla spoke; it proclaimed her distant origins.

  “Your clothes really are coated with mud,” Jondalar said, wiping his hand on his pants after touching her.

  “The cave had a very wet clay floor, and we had to crawl like a snake most of the time. The mud is cold and heavy, too. That’s why I have to change.”

  “I’ll walk back with you,” Jondalar said; he hadn’t seen Ayla all day. He took Jonayla in his arms so she would not get full of mud.

  When Ayla found Proleva again, she learned that the Ninth Cave, along with the Third Cave—at the Third’s camp—were hosting a meeting of the leaders of the rest of the Caves, and their assistants, who were at this Summer Meeting. All their families would join them for the evening meal. Proleva had organized the preparation, which included some people to care for children so their mothers could help.

  Ayla signaled Wolf to come along. She noticed one or two women who looked uneasily at the carnivore, but was glad to see several people who recognized and welcomed Wolf, knowing what a help he could be in watching over them. Lanoga stayed to help mind the children; Ayla returned to see what Proleva wanted her to do.

  In the course of the evening, she did stop to nurse Jonayla, but there was so much work to do to prepare and cook the large feast, she hardly had the chance to hold her infant until after everyone ate, and then she was summoned to the zelandonia lodge. She took Jonayla with her, and signaled Wolf to follow.

  It was late and dark outside as she walked toward the large summer lodge along a path that had been laid with a paving of flat stones. She carried a torch, though light from various fireplaces lit her way reasonably well. She left the torch outside, propped up in a pile of rocks constructed to hold hot torches. Inside, a small fire near the edge of a larger fire ring and a few flickering lamps scattered here and there were glowing softly but gave scant illumination. Little could be seen beyond the lambent flames in the fireplace. She thought she heard someone snoring softly on the other side of the shelter, but she only saw Jonokol and the First. They were just within the circle of light, sipping cups of steaming tea.

  Without interrupting their conversation, the First nodded to Ayla and motioned for her to sit. Glad to finally have a chance to relax in quiet and comfort, she gratefully settled down on a well-stuffed seating cushion, one of several scattered around the fireplace, and began to nurse her child while she listened. Wolf sat down beside them. He was welcome inside the zelandonia lodge, most of the time. Ayla had been gone for some time during the day and he didn’t want to leave her or Jonayla.

  “What was your impression of the cave?” the large woman said, directing her comment to the young man.

  “It is very small, hardly big enough to squeeze through in places, but quite long. An interesting cave,” Jonokol said.

  “Do you believe it is sacred?” she asked.

  “Yes, I do believe it is.”

  The First nodded. She hadn’t doubted the Zelandoni of the Twenty-sixth Cave, but it was nice to have a corroborating opinion.

  “And Ayla found her Voice,” Jonokol added, smiling at Ayla, who was listening to the conversation, unconsciously rocking in a desultory fashion as she nursed her child.

  “She did?” the older woman said.

  “Yes,” Jonokol said with a smile. “The Twenty-sixth asked her to test the cave, and was surprised when she said she couldn’t sing or play a flute or do anything to test it. His acolyte, Falithan, sings a strong, high-pitched ululating wail that’s very unique. Then I suddenly remembered Ayla’s birdcalls and reminded her that she could whistle like a bird, and whinny like a horse, even roar like a lion. So she did. All of them. Amazed the Twenty-sixth, too, especially that roar. Her test substantiated the cave. When the roar came back, it was diminished, but clear, more than audible, but seemed to be coming from a very distant place. The other place.”

  “What did you think, Ayla?” the First asked, as she poured a cup of tea and handed it to Jonokol to give to her. She had noted that the infant had stopped nursing and had fallen asleep in Ayla’s arms with a dribble of milk running down the side of her mouth.

  “It’s a difficult cave to get into, and long, but not complicated. It could be frightening, especially where it narrows down to some very tight passages, but no one could get lost in it,” Ayla said.

  “From the way you describe this new cave, it makes me think that it might be especially good for young acolytes who want to test themselves, to find out if the life of a Zelandoni is actually for them. If they are afraid of a small dark place that offers no real danger, I doubt that they could handle some of the other ordeals that truly can be perilous,” the Woman Who Was First said.

  It made Ayla wonder what some of those ordeals might be. She had been in enough risky situations in her life already; she wasn’t sure if she wanted to face more, but perhaps she should wait and see what would be asked of her.

  The sun was still low in the eastern sky, but a brilliant band of red, fading to purple at the edges, announced the coming day. A tinge of pink highlighted the thin, nebulous bank of stratus clouds on the western horizon, reflecting the back side of the glowing sunrise. As early as it was, almost everyone was already at the Main Camp. It had rained, off and on, for several days but this day looked more promising. Camping out when it rained was only endurable, never enjoyable.

  “As soon as the First Rites and Matrimonial Ceremonies are over, Zelandoni wants to do some traveling,” Ayla said, looking up at Jondalar. “She wants to begin my Donier Tour with some of the closer Sacred Sites. We need to make that seat on a pole-drag for her.” They were walking back from seeing to the horses before heading toward the Meeting Campground for a morning meal. Wolf had started out with them, but was distracted and dashed into the brush.

  Jondalar’s brow wrinkled. “A trip like that could be interesting, but some people are talking about a big hunt after the Ceremonies. Maybe going after a summer herd so we can begin drying meat for next winter. Joharran has been talking about how useful the horses can be in driving animals into surrounds. I think he’s counting on us to help. How do we decide which one to do?”

  “If she doesn’t want to go too far, maybe we could do both,” Ayla said. She wanted to go with the First to visit Sacred Sites, but she also loved to hunt.

  “Perhaps,” Jondalar said. “Maybe we should talk to both Joharran and Zelandoni and let them decide. But in any case, we could go ahead and make a pole-drag seat for Zelandoni. When we were making the summer shelter for Bologan and Lanoga and the rest of that family, I noticed some trees that I thought might work.”

  “When do you think would be a good time to make it?”

  “This afternoon, perhaps. I’ll ask around to see if I can get a few people to help,” Jondalar said.

  “Greetings, Ayla and Jondalar,” a familiar young voice said. It was Lanoga’s younger sister, nine-year Trelara.

  They both turned around and saw all six of the children coming out of their summer shelter. Bologan tied the opening flap closed, then caught up with them. Neither Tremeda nor Laramar was with them. Ayla knew the adults used the shelter sometimes, but they either had left earlier or, more likely, had not returned the night before. Ayla thought the children were probably heading to the Meeting Camp, hoping to find something to eat. People often made too much food and someone was usually willing to give them the leftovers. They may not always have received the choicest selection, but they seldom went hungry.

  “Greetings, children,” Ayla said.

  They all smi
led at her except Bologan, who tried to be more serious. When she first became familiar with the family, Ayla knew that Bologan, the eldest, stayed away from home as often as he could, preferring to associate with other boys, especially those who were more rowdy. But lately, it seemed to her, he was becoming more responsible toward the younger children, especially his brother Lavogan, who was a seven-year. And she’d seen him several times with Lanidar lately, which she thought was a good sign. Bologan walked up to Jondalar, rather diffidently.

  “Greetings, Jondalar,” he said, looking down at his feet before raising his eyes to meet the man’s.

  “Greetings, Bologan,” Jondalar said, wondering why he had been approached.

  “Can I ask you something?” Bologan said.

  “Of course.”

  The boy reached into a pocket-like fold of his tunic and pulled out a colorful manhood belt. “Zelandoni talked to me yesterday, then gave this to me. She showed me how to tie it, but I can’t seem to make it look right,” he said.

  Well, he was a thirteen-year now, Ayla thought as she fought back a smile. He hadn’t specifically asked Jondalar for help, but the tall man knew what he wanted. Typically it was the man of a boy’s hearth who gave him his manhood belt, usually made by his mother. Bologan was asking Jondalar to stand in for the man who should have been there for him.

  Jondalar showed the young man how to tie the belt, then Bologan called to his brother and started out toward the Main Camp, the others followed behind more slowly. Ayla watched them go, thirteen-year Bologan walking beside seven-year Lavogan, eleven-year Lanoga, with Lorala, one-year plus a half, on her hip, and nine-year Trelara holding the hand of three-year Ganamar. She remembered being told that one who would have been a five-year had died in infancy. Though she and Jondalar helped them, and several others from the Ninth Cave as well, the children were essentially raising themselves. Neither their mother nor the man of their hearth paid much attention to them, and did little to support them. She believed it was Lanoga who held them together, though now, she was glad to see, Trelara was helping her and Bologan was more involved.

  She felt Jonayla moving in her carrying blanket, waking up. She pulled it around from her back to her front, and took the baby out of it. She was naked, with no absorbent padding. Ayla held her out in front of her while the child wet on the ground. Jondalar smiled. None of the other women did that, and when he asked her, Ayla told him that was how Clan mothers often took care of their children’s wetting. Though she didn’t do it all the time, it certainly saved time cleaning up messes and gathering materials that could soak up liquid. And Jonayla was getting so used to it, she tended to wait until she was out before she let go.

  “Do you think Lanidar is still interested in Lanoga?” Jondalar asked, obviously thinking about Tremeda’s children, too.

  “He certainly gave her a warm smile when he first saw her this year,” Ayla said. “How is he doing with the spear-thrower? He looks to me as though he’s been practicing with his left arm.”

  “He’s good!” Jondalar said. “Actually, it’s amazing to watch him. He has some use of his right arm, and uses it to help place the spear on the thrower, but he throws with great force and accuracy with his left arm. He’s become quite a hunter and has gained the respect of his Cave, and more status. Now everyone at this Summer Meeting is looking at him with new eyes. Even the man of his hearth, who left his mother after he was born, has been showing an interest in him. And his mother and grandmother are no longer insisting that he go berry-picking and food-collecting with them all the time for fear he won’t be able to support himself any other way. They made that harness he wears, but he told them what he wanted. They give you credit for teaching him, you know.”

  “You taught him, too,” she said; then after a while she added, “He may have become a good hunter, but I still doubt that most mothers would want him to mate their daughters. They would be afraid that the bad spirit that deformed his arm is still hovering and might give their daughter’s children the same problem. When he said last year that he wanted to mate Lanoga when they grew up, and help her raise her sisters and brothers, Proleva said she thought that would be a perfect pairing. Since Laramar and Tremeda have the lowest status, no mother would want her son to mate with her, but I don’t think anyone would put up much objection to Lanidar mating Lanoga, especially if he’s a good hunter.”

  “No. But I’m afraid Tremeda and Laramar will find a way to take advantage of him,” Jondalar said. “I notice Lanoga isn’t ready for First Rites, yet.”

  “But she will be soon. She’s beginning to show signs. Maybe before the summer is over, the last First Rites ceremony of the season. Have they asked you to assist with First Rites this summer?” she asked, trying to seem unconcerned.

  “Yes, but I told them I wasn’t ready to take on that responsibility yet,” he said, grinning at her. “Why? Do you think I should?”

  “Only if you want to. There are some young women who might be very happy if you did. Perhaps even Lanoga,” Ayla said, turning to look at Jonayla so he wouldn’t see her face.

  “Not Lanoga!” he said. “That would be like sharing First Rites with the child of my own hearth!”

  She turned and smiled at him. “You are probably closer to it than the man who is,” Ayla said. “You’ve provided more for that family than Laramar has.”

  They were approaching the Main Camp and people had started calling greetings to them. “Do you think it will take very long to make a pole-drag with a seat?” Ayla asked.

  “If I can get some help and we start soon, maybe later this morning, we can probably have it done by afternoon,” he said. “Why?”

  “Then should I ask her if she would have time to try it this afternoon? She said that was what she wanted to do before she used it in front of other people.”

  “Go ahead and ask her. I’ll ask Joharran and some others to help. I’m sure we’ll get it done.” Jondalar grinned. “It will be interesting to see how people react when they see her riding behind the horses.”

  Jondalar was working on cutting down a straight, sturdy sapling that was a good deal thicker than the size they usually selected for a travois. The stone axe-head he was using had been shaped so that the thicker top was tapered up to a kind of point, and the cutting end knapped into a narrow thinning cross-section with a sharp, rounded bottom edge. The wooden handle had a hole gouged all the way through in one end into which the tapered top of the axe-head could fit. It was affixed in such a way that each time a blow was struck, the axe-head would wedge more firmly into the hole of the handle. The two pieces were firmly lashed together with wet rawhide that shrank and pulled tighter as it dried.

  A stone axe was not strong enough to cut straight across the trunk of a tree; the flint would shatter and break if used in that way. To fell a tree with such a tool, the cuts needed to be made at an angle, whittling down the tree until it broke apart. The stump often looked as though it had been chewed down by a beaver. Even then, stone chips usually spalled off the axe-blade, so that it needed constant resharpening. This could be done by using a carefully controlled hammerstone, or pointed bone punch hit by a hammerstone, to remove narrow slivers of stone to thin down the cutting edge again. Because he was a skilled flint-knapper, Jondalar was often called upon to cut down trees. He knew how to use an axe properly, and how to resharpen one efficiently.

  Jondalar had just cut down a second tree of similar size when a group of men arrived: Joharran, along with Solaban and Rushemar; Manvelar, the leader of the Third Cave, and the son of his mate, Morizan; Kimeran, leader of the Second Cave, and Jondecam, his same-age nephew; Willamar, the Trade Master, and his apprentice, Tivonan, and his friend Palidar; and Stevadal, the leader of the Twenty-sixth Cave, within whose territory this year’s Summer Meeting was being held. Eleven people had come to make one pole-drag, twelve counting Jondalar. If she counted herself, thirteen. Ayla had made her first one by herself.

  They were curious, she thought; that’s b
rought them. Most of the new arrivals were familiar with the contrivance she called a pole-drag, which Ayla used with her horses to transport goods. It began with two poles made from whole trees with tapering tops, and all the branches trimmed off. Depending upon the variety, the bark was sometimes removed as well, especially if it slipped off easily. The narrow ends were fastened together and attached to a horse at the withers with a harness of sturdy cords or leather thongs. The two trees angled out slightly in front, and much more toward the back, with only the ends of the heavier base dragging on the ground, which created relatively little friction, making it fairly easy to pull even with a heavy load. Crosspieces of wood, leather, or cordage, anything that could support a load, were attached to both poles across the space between.

  Jondalar explained to the ones who had come to help that he wanted to make a pole-drag with special crosspieces put together in a certain way. Before long, more trees had been cut down, and a few suggestions offered and tried before they worked out something that seemed suitable. Ayla concluded they didn’t need her, and while they were working, decided to get Zelandoni.

  Taking Jonayla with her, she slipped away heading toward the main Meeting Camp, thinking about the adaptations to a pole-drag and the one they had made on their long return Journey to Jondalar’s home. When they came to a large river they had to cross, they constructed a bowl boat similar to the kind the Mamutoi used to cross rivers: a frame of wood bent into the shape of a bowl and covered on the outside with a heavy well-greased aurochs hide. It was simple to make but a little diffcult to control in the water. Jondalar told her about the boats the Sharamudoi made, dug out of a log, widened with steam, with a pointed prow on each end. They were much more difficult to make, but it was much easier to make them go where you wanted, he explained.