The Earth's Children Series 6-Book Bundle

by Jean M. Auel

  “Thank you,” Danug said. As the son of the leader’s mate, he understood that this was part of the exchange of information that conveyed status and recognition of rank. “We have all missed her. My mother was very sorry when Ayla left, she was like a daughter to her, but she understood that her heart was with Jondalar. Nezzie will be very pleased to know that Ayla has found such a warm welcome among the Zelandonii, to know that her exceptional qualities are so well received.” Even though his Zelandonii was not perfect, the young man was obviously well-spoken, and knew how to convey the position of his family among his people.

  No one understood the value and importance of place and position better than Marthona. Ayla understood the concept of status. It had been important even to the Clan, and she was learning how the Zelandonii rated, ranked, and awarded significance to people, but she would never have the intuitive knowledge that someone like Marthona did, someone who was born into the highest position of her people.

  In a society without currency, status was more than prestige, it was a form of wealth. People were eager to do favors for a person with standing because obligations always had to be repaid in kind. Debt was incurred when asking someone to make something, or to do something, or to go someplace, because of the implicit promise to return a favor of like value. No one really wanted to be in debt, but everyone was, and to have someone of high standing be in your debt gave you more status.

  Many things had to be taken into account when appraising status, which was why people recited their “names and ties.” Assigning value was one, as was effort. Even if the end product was not of the same quality, if the person gave it his or her best effort, the debt could be considered satisfied, though it didn’t increase rank. Age was a factor; children up to a certain age did not accrue debts. In taking care of a child, even one’s own, a debt to the community was paid, because children were the promise of continuity.

  The reaching of a certain age, becoming an elder, also made a difference. Certain favors could be asked without accruing debt and without losing status, but as a person lost the ability to contribute, he or she didn’t so much lose rank as shift position. An elder with knowledge and experience to offer could retain her status, but if she began to lose cognitive ability, she kept her position but only in name. He would still be respected for his past contributions, but his advice was no longer sought.

  The system was complicated, but everyone learned its nuances the way they learned language, and by the time they reached the age of responsibility, most of them understood the fine distinctions. At any given time a person knew exactly what he owed and what was owed to him, the nature of the debts, and where she ranked within her own community.

  Marthona also spoke with Druwez, whose position was equal to that of his cousin, since he was the son of Tulie, the sister of Talut and co-leader of the Lion Camp, but he tended to be more reticent. The sheer size of Danug made him more noticeable, and though shy in the beginning, he’d had to learn to be more forthcoming. A warm smile and willing conversation tended to alleviate any fears his size may have provoked.

  Finally, Marthona turned to Ayla. “Where is that son of mine, who is so honored by Aldanor’s people?”

  Ayla turned aside. “I don’t know,” she said, trying to keep her sudden flush of emotion in check. Then she added, “I’ve been busy with the zelandonia.”

  Marthona knew immediately that something was very wrong. Ayla had been so excited about seeing Jondalar. Now she didn’t even know where he was?

  “I saw Jondy walking down by The River this morning,” Jonayla said, “but I don’t know where he’s sleeping. I don’t know why he won’t sleep with us anymore. I like it better when he stays with us.”

  Although her face flushed, Ayla didn’t say anything, and Marthona was certain something was seriously wrong. She’d have to find out just what was going on.

  “Folara, would you and Marthona watch Jonayla, or drop her off at Levela’s if you are going to the Main Camp? And take Wolf with you? I need to talk to Danug and Druwez, and maybe take them to the zelandonia lodge,” Ayla said.

  “Yes, of course,” Folara said.

  Ayla gave her daughter a hug. “I’ll see you this evening,” she said, then went up to the two young men and started speaking to them in Mamutoi.

  “I was thinking about the talking drums and mentioned them to the First. Can either or both of you make the drums talk?” Ayla said.

  “Yes,” Danug said. “We both can, but we didn’t bring any with us. Drums are not a necessary part of traveling gear when you go on a Journey.”

  “How long would it take to make a couple of them? I’m sure we can get people to help you if you need it. And would you be willing to play out a verse or two? As part of the ceremony we’re planning?” Ayla said.

  The two young men looked at each other, and shrugged. “If we can find the materials, they wouldn’t take long to make, maybe a day or so. It’s just rawhide stretched across a round frame, but it has to be a tight stretch so that the drum really resonates at different pitches. The frame has to be strong or it will break as the rawhide shrinks, especially if we use heat to shrink it faster,” Druwez said. “They are small drums, and you play them with your fingers, very fast.”

  “I’ve seen some play them with a nicely balanced stick, but we learned to do it with the fingers,” Danug said.

  “Would you be willing to do it for the ceremony?” Ayla asked.

  “Of course,” they said in unison.

  “Then come with me,” she said as she headed toward the Main Camp.

  On the way to the large zelandonia lodge, Ayla noticed how many people actually stopped and stared at them. Though often enough she had been, this time she wasn’t the one who was the object of the gawks. It was Danug. It was rude, but in a way she couldn’t blame them, he was a striking figure of a man. On the whole, the men of the Zelandonii tended to be tall, well-built men—Jondalar himself was six feet, six inches—but Danug stood head and shoulders above everyone else, and he was well proportioned to his size. If seen alone from some distance, he would have seemed to be an ordinary muscular man; it was when he stood in the midst of others that his great size was so noticeable. It made her recall the first time she saw Talut, the man of his hearth, the only man she ever saw who was of comparable dimensions. She had probably stared then, even though except for Jondalar, Talut was one of the first people of her own kind she had seen since she was a small child. Maybe that was why she stared.

  When she reached the great lodge in the center of the Camp, two young female acolytes approached them. “I wanted to make sure we had all the ingredients for that special ceremonial drink you told us about,” one of them said. “You said fermented birch sap, fruit juices scented with woodruff, and some herbs, right?”

  “Yes, in particular, artemesia,” Ayla said. “Sometimes called wormwood, or absinthe.”

  “I don’t think I’m familiar with that drink,” Druwez said.

  “Did you stop and visit the Losadunai on your way here?” Ayla asked. “In particular, did you share a Mother Festival with them?”

  “We stopped, but we didn’t stay long,” Druwez said, “and unfortunately, they did not have a Festival while we were there.”

  “Solandia, the mate of the Losaduna, told me how to make it. It tastes like a pleasant-tasting mild drink, but in fact, it is a potent mixture made especially to encourage the spontaneity and warm interaction that are wanted during a festival to honor the Mother,” Ayla said. Then to the acolytes, she added, “I’ll taste it when you are done and let you know if anything is missing.”

  As they turned to go, the two young women made some hand gestures to each other, and glanced back at Danug. Over the past few years, especially during Summer Meetings, Ayla had been teaching all the zelandonia some of the basic Clan signs. She thought it would help the Doniers to communicate, at least at a basic level, if they happened to meet some people of the Clan when they were traveling. Some picked it up
better than others, but most of them seemed to enjoy having a silent secret method of talking that most people didn’t understand. What the two young acolytes didn’t know was that Ayla had taught Danug and Druwez the Clan signs long before when she lived with the Mamutoi.

  Suddenly Danug looked at one of the young women and smiled. “Maybe you’d like to find out at the Mother Festival,” he said, then turned to Druwez, and they laughed.

  Both young women blushed; then the one who had first made the signs smiled at Danug with a suggestive look. “Maybe I would,” she said. “I didn’t know you understood the talking signs.”

  “Can you imagine anyone living around Ayla for very long without learning them?” Danug said, “Especially when my brother, the boy my mother adopted, was half Clan, and couldn’t speak until Ayla came and taught us all to make the signs. I remember the first time Rydag made the sign for ‘mother’ to her. She cried.”

  People started milling around the ceremonial area early. The excitement in the air was tangible. The ceremony had been in stages of preparation for days and there was an incredible sense of expectation. This was going to be special, totally unique. Everyone knew it; they just didn’t know what to expect. The suspense mounted as the sun began to sink. Never had the Zelandonii at the Summer Meeting wanted the sun to set quite so much. They wished it down from the sky.

  Finally, as the sun settled down below the horizon and it grew dark enough to need fire, people began to settle down, waiting for the ceremonial fires to be lit. There was a natural amphitheater in the center of this area that was sufficiently large to hold the entire Camp of some two thousand people. Behind and toward the right of the Summer Meeting Camp, the limestone hills formed the general shape of a large scooped-out shallow bowl curving around on the sides but open in front. The base of the curved slopes converged to a small, relatively level field, which had been evened out with stones and packed earth over the many years the location had been used for meetings.

  In a wooded copse near the rugged crest of the hill, a spring rose that filled a small pool, then spilled down the slope of the bowl shape, through the middle of the area at the bottom, and eventually into the larger stream of the camp. The spring-fed creek was so small, especially late in summer, that people stepped over it easily, but the clear, cold pool at the top supplied convenient drinking water. The grass-covered hillside within the partial bowl depression rose up in a gradual, irregular slope. Over the years, people had dug a little here, filled in a little there, until the slope of the hill had many small flattened sections that provided comfortable places for family groups or even whole Caves to sit together with a good view of the open space below.

  People sat on the grass or spread out woven mats, stuffed pads, cushions, or furs on the ground. Fires were lit, mostly torches stuck into the ground, but also some small firepits encircling the entire gathering around the stagelike area, and one larger bonfire near the front and center of it; then several fires were lit throughout the area where people were sitting. Shortly afterward, quietly, the distinctive sound of young voices singing could be heard in the background of the conversation. People started shushing each other to hear the singing better. Then a parade of most of the youngsters of the entire Camp walked toward the central area singing a rhythmic song using the counting words. By the time they reached it, everyone else had stopped talking, although there were smiles and winks.

  Beginning with the singing children had two purposes. The first was to let them show their elders what they were learning from the zelandonia. The second was a tacit understanding that a Mother Festival would take place along with the feasting and general revelry. When they were finished with their part, the children would be taken to one of the camps near the edge of the gathering where there would be games and their own feast separate from the adults, watched over by several Zelandonia and others, often older women and men, or new mothers who were not yet ready to participate, or women who had just begun their moontime, or those who just didn’t feel like indulging in activities to honor the Mother at that time.

  While most people looked forward to Mother Festivals, it was always voluntary, and it was easier for most people to participate if they knew they didn’t have to worry about their children for an evening. The children were not prevented from going if they wanted to, and some of the older ones did, just to satisfy their curiosity, but watching adults talk, laugh, eat, drink, dance, and couple was not all that interesting if they weren’t really ready for it and it wasn’t forbidden. The close quarters in which they lived meant that children observed all adult activities all the time, from childbirth to death. No one made an issue of keeping them away; it was all a part of life.

  When the children were done, most were led into the audience. Next, two men dressed as bison bulls with their heavy horned heads started at opposite sides and ran toward each other, slipping past but just barely missing each other, which captured people’s attention. Then several people, including some children, dressed in the hides and horns of aurochs, started milling around like a herd. Some of the animal skins were hunting camouflages, some made just for this occasion. A lion came out, snarling and grunting, in a skin and tail, then attacked the cows with a roar so authentic, it made some people flinch.

  “That was Ayla,” Folara whispered to Aldanor. “No one can do a lion roar as well as she can.”

  The herd scattered, jumping over things and almost running into people. The lion chased after them. Then five people came out dressed in deer hides and holding antlers on their heads, and portrayed them jumping into a river as though running away from something, and swimming across. Horses were next, one of them whinnying so realistically, it got an answering whinny from a distance.

  “That was Ayla, too,” Folara informed the man beside her.

  “She’s very good,” he said.

  “She says she learned to mimic animals before she learned to speak Zelandonii.”

  There were other demonstrations portraying and depicting animals, all showing an event or story of some kind. The troupe of traveling storytellers were also a part of the presentation, pressed into service as various animals, and their skills added a vivid realism. Finally the animals started coming together. When they were all gathered, a strange animal appeared. It walked on four legs and had hooved feet, but it was covered with a strange spotted hide that hung down the sides almost to the ground and partially covered its head, to which two straight sticks had been attached that were meant to represent some kind of horns or antlers.

  “What is that?” Aldanor asked.

  “It’s a magical animal, of course,” Folara said. “But it’s really Ayla’s Whinney, who is being a Zelandoni. The First says all of her horses and Wolf are Zelandonia. That’s why they choose to stay with her.”

  The strange Zelandoni animal led all the other animals away, then several of the zelandonia and storytellers hurried back as themselves and began playing drums and flutes. Some began singing some of the older Legends; then others narrated the Histories and lore that the people knew and loved so well.

  The zelandonia had prepared well. They used every trick they knew to capture and hold the attention of the large crowd. When Ayla, with her face painted in Zelandoni designs—all except for the area around her new tattoo, which was left bare to show the permanent mark of acceptance—stepped in front of the group, all two thousand people held their breaths, ready to hang on to her every word, her every motion.

  Drums resounded, high-pitched flutes interwove with the slow, steady, inexorable bass, with some tones below the range of hearing, but felt deep in the bone, thrum, thrum, thrum. The cadence changed in rhythm, then matched the meter of a verse so familiar, the people joined in singing or saying the beginning of the Mother’s Song.

  Out of the darkness, the chaos of time,

  The whirlwind gave birth to the Mother sublime.

  She woke to Herself knowing life had great worth,

  The dark empty void grieved the Great Mo
ther Earth.

  The Mother was lonely. She was the only.

  The First with her spectacular full, vibrant voice joined in. Drums and flutes played in between the singers and speakers as the Mother’s Song continued. Near the middle, people began to take notice that the voice of the First was so markedly rich and rare, they stopped singing so they could listen. When she reached the last verse, she stopped and only the drums played by Ayla’s visiting kin were left.

  But the people almost thought they could hear the words. And then they were sure they could, but they were spoken with a strange, eerie vibrato. At first, the audience wasn’t quite sure what they were hearing. The two young Mamutoi men stood in front of the crowd with their small drums and played the last verse of the Mother’s Song in a strange staccato beat—drumbeats that sounded like words spoken in a throbbing voice as though someone were singing by rapidly varying the pressure of the breath, except it wasn’t someone’s breath, it was the drums! The drums were speaking words!

  Th-e-e-e Mu-u-u-the-er wa-a-a-az pule-e-e-z-z-zed wi-i-i-ith …

  The silence of the listeners was perfect as everyone strained to hear the drums speak. Ayla, thinking about the way she had learned to throw her voice forward so that even those at the very back could hear her clearly, pitched her normally low voice slightly lower and spoke more loudly and more strongly into the dark stillness lit now by only one fire. The only sound the assembled crowd heard, seeming to come from the air around them on the beat of the drum, was Ayla speaking the last verse of the Mother’s Song alone, repeating the words the drum had spoken.

  The Mother was pleased with the pair She created,

  She taught them to love and to care when they mated.

  She made them desire to join with each other,

  The Gift of their Pleasures came from the Mother.