The Land of Painted Caves ec-6

by Jean M. Auel

  'Thank you, Marthona, but I have to get some things and go to see Zelandoni,' Ayla said. Suddenly she stopped and hunkered down in front of the older woman, who was sitting on a small stool woven together out of reeds, cattail leaves, and flexible branches. 'I really do want to thank you, for being so kind to me since the first day I arrived. I don't remember my own mother, only Iza, the Clan woman who raised me, but I like to think that my real mother would have been like you.'

  'I think of you as a daughter, Ayla,' Marthona said, more moved than she would have expected. 'My son was lucky to find you'; then she shook her head slightly. 'Sometimes I wish he were more like you.'

  Ayla hugged her, then turned to Proleva. 'Thank you, too, Proleva. You've been such a good friend to me, and I appreciate, more than I can say, the way you've taken care of Jonayla when I had to stay back at the Ninth Cave, and when I've been busy here.' She hugged Proleva too. 'I wish Folara were here, but I know she's busy with the preparations for her Matrimonial. I think Aldanor is a good man. I'm so happy for her. I have to go now,' she said suddenly, hugged her daughter again, then hurried to the dwelling, misty eyed with the tears she was holding back.

  'I wonder what that was all about.' Proleva said.

  'If I didn't know better, I'd think she almost sounded like she was saying good-bye,' Marthona said.

  'Is mother going someplace, 'Thona?' Jonayla asked.

  'I don't think so. At least no one has said anything to me.'

  Ayla stayed in the summer dwelling for a while making preparations. First she cut out a roughly circular shape from the belly of the skin of the red deer she had brought with her to the Summer Meeting. She had found the soft buckskin hide the day before folded up on her sleeping roll. When she asked Jonayla who had cured the deer skin, she was told, 'Everybody did.'

  Cordage, fibrous rope, twine, thread, tough sinew, and strips of leather thong, in various sizes, were always useful and easy to make without having to think about it, once the techniques were learned. Most people busied themselves making things when they were sitting around talking or listening to stories, out of materials that were collected whenever they were found. So there was always some cordage around for anyone to use. Ayla got some strips of leather thong and a long piece of thin, flexible rope that were hanging on pegs pounded into posts near the entrance. After she had cut off the belly part into a circular shape, she folded the rest of the hide, then coiled up the rope and put it on top. She measured out a length of the leather thong around her neck, added additional length, then threaded it through the holes she cut around the edge of the leather circle.

  She seldom wore her amulet anymore, not even her more modern one. Most Zelandonii wore necklaces, and it was hard to wear a lumpy leather pouch and a necklace at the same time. Instead, she usually kept her amulet in her medicine bag, which she customarily wore attached to a belt or waist thong. It wasn't a Clan medicine bag. She had thought about making another one several times, but never seemed to find the time. Releasing the drawstring that held her medicine bag closed, she searched inside and pulled out the small decorated pouch, her amulet, that was full of odd-shaped objects. She undid the knots and poured the strange collection of objects into her hand. They were the signs from her totem that signified important moments in her life. Most of them were given to her by the spirit of the Great Cave Lion after she had made a critical decision as a sign that she had made the right choice, but not all.

  The piece of red ochre that was the first object to go into the bag was worn smooth. It was given to her by Iza when she was accepted into the Clan. Ayla put it into the new amulet. The piece of black manganese dioxide that was given to her when she became a medicine woman was also worn down just from being inside the small pouch with the other objects for so long. The red and black material that was often used for coloration had left their residue on the other objects in the pouch. The mineral objects could be brushed off, such as the fossil cast of a seashell, the sign from her totem that her decision to hunt was proper for her, even though she was female.

  He must have known even then that I would need to hunt if I was going to survive, she thought. My Cave Lion even told Brun to let me hunt, although then, only with the sling. The disc of mammoth ivory, her hunting talisman that had been given to her when she was declared the Woman Who Hunts, had absorbed colour that couldn't be brushed off, mostly red from the ochre.

  She picked up the piece of iron pyrite and rubbed it against her tunic. It was her favourite sign; it was the one that told her she had been right to run away with Durc. If she hadn't, he would have been exposed without anyone thinking any more about it, since he had been judged deformed. When she took him and hid, knowing she could die as well, it made Brun and Creb stop and think.

  The coloured dust clung to the clear quartz crystal but didn't discolour it; that was the sign she found that told her she had made the right decision to stop looking for her people and stay in the valley of horses for a while. It always bothered her when she saw the black manganese stone. She picked it up again and held it in her closed fist. It held the spirits of all the people of the Clan. She had exchanged a piece of her spirit for it so that when she saved someone's life they incurred no obligation to her, since she already had a piece of everyone's spirit.

  When Iza died, Creb, the Mog-ur, had taken her medicine woman stone from her before she was buried so she would not take the entire Clan to the spirit world with her, but no one took her stone when Broud cursed her with death. Goov had not been Mog-ur for very long, and it came as such a shock to everyone when Broud did it; no one remembered to get the stone from her, and she forgot to return it. What would happen to the Clan if she still had the stone when she passed to the next world?

  She put all of her totem's signs into the new pouch, and knew she would keep them there from then on. It felt right for her Clan totem signs to be in a Clan amulet pouch. As she pulled the drawstring tight, she wondered, as she often had, why she had never been given a sign from her totem when she decided to leave the Mamutoi and go with Jondalar. Had she already become a child of the Mother? Had the Mother told her totem she didn't need a sign? Had she been given a more subtle sign that she didn't recognise? Or — a new and more frightening thought came to her — had she made the wrong decision? She felt a cold chill. For the first time in a long time, Ayla clutched her amulet and sent a silent thought asking for his protection to the spirit of the Great Cave Lion.

  When she left the temporary dwelling, Ayla was carrying a folded-up buckskin hide, a leather rucksack lumpy with the objects it held, and her Clan medicine bag. There were several more people around the campfire, and she waved to them as she left, but it wasn't the usual beckoning, 'come-back' motion with her palm facing inward, toward herself, which commonly signified a temporary separation, acknowledging that she would see them soon. She had raised her hand, palm facing out and moved it slightly from side to side. Marthona frowned at the signal.

  As she started walking upstream along the small river, a quicker way toward the cave she had found a few years before, Ayla was beginning to wonder whether she should go through with this ceremony. Yes, Zelandoni would be disappointed, and so would the rest of the zelandonia who were preparing to assist, but it was more dangerous than they realised. When she agreed to the ceremony the day before, she had been so depressed, she didn't care if she got lost in the black void, but she was feeling better this morning, especially after her bath in The River, and seeing Jonayla, and Wolf, not to mention Marthona and Proleva. She wasn't as ready to face that terrifying black void now. Maybe she should tell Zelandoni that she had changed her mind.

  She hadn't thought about the danger she was facing while she was making her preliminary preparations, but she had felt uncomfortable about her inability to perform all of the rituals in the proper way. That was a very important aspect of Clan ceremony, unlike the Zelandonii, who were more tolerant of deviation. Even the words of the Mother's Song varied slightly from Cave to Cave, which
was a favoured topic of discussion among the zelandonia, and that was the most important Elder Legend of all.

  If such a legend had been a sacred part of Clan ceremonies, it would have been memorised and recited in precisely the same way every time it was repeated, at least among the clans that had regular direct contact with each other. Even those clans from distant regions would have had a version that was very close. That was why she could communicate in the sacred sign language of the Clan with the clans in this region though it was a year's travel away from the clan she grew up with. There were minor differences, but it was amazingly similar.

  Since it was a Clan ceremony she would be performing, using powerful roots prepared according to Clan procedures, she felt everything should be done as close as possible according to Clan tradition. She believed it was the only way she could hope to maintain any control, and she was beginning to have doubts if even that would help.

  She was walking past the wooded area with her mind deep in thought, when she nearly bumped into someone coming out from behind a tree. She was startled to find herself practically in Jondalar's arms. He was even more surprised and at a complete loss about what to do. His first impulse was to finish what the accident had started and put his arms around her. He'd been longing to do it for so long, but catching a glimpse of her shocked expression, he jumped back, assuming somehow that her surprise meant revulsion, that she didn't want him to touch her. Her reaction to his instant avoidance was that he didn't want her, couldn't stand to be near her.

  They stared at each other for a long moment. It was the closest they had been since she found him with Marona, and in their hearts, each yearned to prolong that moment, to broach the emotional distance that seemed to separate them. But a child running down the path they were on distracted them. They looked away for a moment and then couldn't quite look back.

  'Uh, sorry,' Jondalar said, aching to hold her but afraid she would rebuff him. He was so completely at a loss, he was looking around wildly, like an animal caught in a trap.

  'Doesn't matter,' Ayla said, looking down to hide the tears that were just too ready to flow these days. She didn't want him to see how terrible it made her feel to think that he couldn't stand to be close to her, that he couldn't wait to get away. Without looking up, she started walking again, hurrying before her overflowing eyes gave her away. Jondalar had to fight his own tears as he watched her almost running along the path in her hurry to get away from him.

  Ayla continued along what had become a faint path toward the new cave. Although it was likely that every one of the entire family of Zelandonii people had been inside the new cave at least once, it wasn't used often. Because it was so beautiful and so unusual with its nearly white stone walls, it was considered a very spiritual, very sacred place, and still rather inviolable. The zelandonia and Cave leaders were still working out the appropriate times and ways to use it. Traditions hadn't been developed yet, it was too new.

  As she approached the base of the small hill that held the cave, she noticed that the obstructing brush and the fallen tree, whose uplifted roots had originally exposed the opening to the underground chambers, were cleared away. Dirt and stones around the opening had also been removed, which enlarged the entrance.

  Although she wasn't looking forward to the ceremony she had been preparing for, she had been excited about seeing the cave again, but the lighter mood that had almost made her decide to forego this dangerous ceremony was gone. Her unhappiness matched the black void she was facing. What did it matter if she lost herself there? It couldn't be any worse than the way she felt at that moment. She was struggling to regain the self-control that seemed so elusive today. It almost seemed she had been on the verge of tears since she woke up.

  She took a shallow stone bowl from her leather sack, and a fur package. Inside was a small, nearly watertight bag of fat with a stoppered end, which was wrapped and tied in the piece of fur to keep any seeping grease from damaging anything nearby. She found her package of lichen wicks, poured a little oil in the bowl, soaked a wick in it for a few moments, then pulled it out and leaned it against the edge of the bowl-shaped lamp. She was preparing to use her firestone to light it when she saw two more zelandonia walking up the path.

  The sight of the zelandonia brought Ayla an added measure of composure. She was still new to their ranks, and wanted to keep their respect. They greeted each other and spoke of inconsequential matters; then one of them held the lamp while watching Ayla start a small fire on the ground with her firestone. Once the lamp was lit, she smothered the fire with dirt and all three entered the cave.

  Once they passed through the warmth of the entrance area, and entered the total darkness of the inside, the temperature cooled to the ambient temperature of most caves, about fifty-five degrees. There was little conversation as they picked their way along exposed rocks and slippery clay with only a single lamp to show the way. By the time they reached a larger chamber, their eyes were so accustomed to the dark that the lights from many stone lamps seemed almost bright. Most of the zelandonia had already arrived and were waiting for Ayla.

  'There you are, Zelandoni of the Ninth Cave,' the First said. 'Have you made all the preparations you think are necessary?'

  'Not quite,' Ayla said. 'I still have to change. During the Clan ceremony, I would be naked except for my amulet and the colours painted on my body by the Mog-ur, when I make the drink. But it's too cold in the cave to be naked for very long, and besides, the mog-urs who drank the liquid wore clothes, so I will, too. I think it's important to stay as close to the Clan ceremony as possible, so I've decided to wear a wrap in the style of a Clan woman. I made a Clan amulet for my totem symbols, and to show that I am a medicine woman, I will wear my Clan medicine bag, although it is the objects in my amulet that are more important. It will enable the Clan spirits to recognise me not only as a woman of the Clan, but as a medicine woman.'

  With all the zelandonia looking on with great curiosity, Ayla removed her clothing and began wrapping the soft, pliable deer hide around her, tying it on her with a long cord in such a way as to leave pouches and folds to hold things. She thought about all the things she was doing that were not Clan, starting with her preparing the drink for herself instead of for the mog-urs. She was not a mog-ur — no woman of the Clan could be one — and she didn't know the rituals they performed to ready themselves for this ceremony, but she was a Zelandoni and she hoped that would make a difference once she reached the spirit world.

  She took a small pouch out of her medicine bag. There was enough light from the many lamps to show its deep red ochre colour, the colour most sacred to the Clan, and then she took a wooden bowl out of the leather packframe. She had made the bowl some time ago in the style of the Clan to show Marthona, who, with her aesthetic sense, appreciated the simplicity and craftsmanship. Ayla had planned to give it to the woman and now she was glad she still had it. If it wasn't the special bowl that had been used only for this root for the many generations of Iza's ancestors, it was at least a wooden bowl made in the painstaking way the Clan made them.

  'I will need some water,' Ayla said as she undid the knots of the red pouch. She emptied the bag of roots into her hand.

  'May I see them?' Zelandoni asked.

  Ayla held them out to her, but there was nothing distinctive about them. They were just dried roots. 'I'm not sure how much to use,' she said, picking out two small pieces, hoping it would be correct. 'I've only done this twice before, and I don't have Iza's memories.'

  A few of the zelandonia there had heard her speak about Clan memories, but most had no idea what she meant. She had tried to explain them to Zelandoni Who Was First, but since she didn't know exactly what they were herself, it was hard to explain to someone else.

  Someone poured water into her wooden bowl, and Ayla drank a little to wet her mouth. She remembered how dry the roots were and how hard they were to chew. 'I am ready,' she said, and before she could change her mind, she put the roots in her mouth and be
gan to chew.

  It took a long time to soften them up enough to bite through, and though she did try to avoid swallowing her own saliva, it was difficult, and she thought to herself, since I'm the one who's going to drink it, maybe it doesn't matter too much. She chewed and chewed and chewed and chewed. It seemed to take forever, but finally her mouth held a soggy pulp, which she spat into the bowl. She stirred it with her finger, and watched the liquid turn a milky white.

  Zelandoni was looking over her shoulder. 'Is that what it's supposed to do?' She seemed to be trying to detect its odour.

  'Yes,' Ayla said. She could feel its primeval taste in her mouth. 'Would you like to smell it?'

  'It smells ancient,' the woman said, 'like a deep cool wet forest full of moss and mushrooms. May I taste it?'

  She was going to refuse. It was so sacred to the Clan, Iza couldn't even make some just to show her how, and for a moment, Ayla was appalled that Zelandoni would ask. But then she realised this whole experiment was so far from anything the Clan would do that it could hardly matter if Zelandoni took a drink. Ayla held the bowl to the woman's lips and watched her take much more than a sip, and pulled it back before she took too much.

  Then she held it to her own mouth and drank it down quickly, making sure there was none left for any one else to sample. That was how she got in trouble the first time. Iza had told her there was not supposed to be any left, but she had made too much, and after his first taste, The Mog-ur knew it was too strong. He controlled how much each man drank, and left some in the bottom of the bowl. Ayla had found it later, after she had ingested too much from chewing the root and had too much of the women's drink besides. She was in such a confused state, she drank the rest down so none would be left. This time, she would make sure no one else would inadvertently be tempted to try it.