The Shelters of Stone

by Jean M. Auel

  Why had she made a tunic for him, especially such a beautiful one, if she was planning to stay with the Mamutoi and live with Ranec? Jondalar clutched the tunic while his mind raced. It was so soft and supple. Her leather always had that quality, but how long had she spent working the leather to make it so soft? And the color. Where had she learned to make white leather? From Nezzie, perhaps? Then he remembered seeing Crozie, the old woman from the Crane hearth, wearing a white outfit at one of the ceremonies when everyone wore their finest clothing. Could Ayla have learned it from her? He couldn’t recall ever seeing her working on white leather, but then, maybe he just hadn’t been paying attention.

  He pulled the silky ermine tails through his fingers. Where had she gotten ermine tails? Then he remembered that she had returned with some ermines the same day she brought the tiny living wolf cub back to the earthlodge. He smiled, remembering what a commotion that had caused. But they had argued—well, he had argued, it was his fault—and he had already moved to the cooking hearth by then. She was visiting Ranec’s hearth at night. They were almost Promised. Yet she had probably spent many, many days making this soft, beautiful white tunic for him. Did she love him so much even then?

  Jondalar’s eyes misted, he was near tears. He knew he had been the one who had treated her coldly. It was his jealousy and, more than that, his fear of what his people would say if they knew who had raised her. He had driven her into the arms of another man, yet she had still spent long days making this garment for him, and then she’d carried it all the way here just to give it to him for their Matrimonial. No wonder she was upset and ready to defy the ban against seeing him to make sure he got it.

  He looked at it again. It was not even wrinkled. She must have found some place to straighten it, steam it, after they arrived. He held the tunic to himself, feeling its softness, and almost felt that he was holding her, so much of her went into the making of it. He would have been happy to wear it even if it wasn’t so beautiful.

  But it was beautiful. The clothes he had chosen to wear for his Matrimonial, for all their decoration, now seemed drab by comparison. Jondalar wore clothes well, and he knew it. He had always secretly prided himself on it, and on his choice of clothing. It was a small vanity that he had learned at his mother’s knee, and no one was more gracefully elegant than Marthona. He wondered if she had seen the tunic. Somehow he doubted it. She would have appreciated its stunning subtlety, with the ermine tails giving it just the right touch, and she would have given him some look, some hint.

  He looked up as Joharran came into the tent. “There you are, Jondalar. I seem to be spending this day looking for you. You are needed for some special instructions.” He noticed the white garment. “What do you have there?” he asked.

  “Ayla made me a Matrimonial tunic. That’s why mother wanted to see me, to give me this.” He held it up in front of himself.

  “Jondalar! That is exceptional!” his brother said. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen white leather so well made. You always have liked to dress well, but in that, you are really going to stand out. There is going to be more than one woman who will wish she were in Ayla’s place. But there is more than one man who wouldn’t mind being in yours, your big brother included—if it weren’t for Proleva, of course.”

  “I am lucky. You don’t even know how lucky, Joharran.”

  “Well, I want to say, I wish both of you much happiness. I haven’t really had the opportunity to tell you before. I used to worry about you sometimes. Especially after that … problem you had, when you were sent away. When you came back, you always had women, but I wondered if you would ever find a woman that you would be happy with. You would have mated eventually, I’m sure, but I didn’t know if you would ever find the land of happiness you can have with a good mate like Proleva. I never did think Marona was the right kind of woman for you,” Joharran said. Jondalar was moved.

  “I know I’m supposed to be making jokes about how sorry you’ll be now that you’ve tied yourself to the responsibilities of a hearth,” Joharran continued, “but I will tell you truthfully, Proleva has made my life very happy, and her son brings a special warmth you can get no other way. Did you know she is expecting another?”

  “No, I didn’t. Ayla is expecting, too. Our mates will have children who are close to the same age, they will be like hearth cousins,” Jondalar said with a big grin.

  “I feel certain that Proleva’s son is the result of my spirit, and I hope the one she is carrying will be, but even if they aren’t, the children of his hearth can give a man such pleasure, such a special feeling, it’s hard to describe. Looking at Jaradal fills me with such pride and joy.”

  The two men clasped each other by the shoulders, then hugged. “All this confessing of deep feelings from my big brother,” Jondalar said to the slightly shorter man, smiling. Then his expression became more serious. “I’ll tell you truthfully, Joharran. I have often envied your happiness, even before I left, before there were any children. I knew then Proleva would be a good woman for you. She makes your hearth a warm and welcome place. And just in the short time since I’ve returned, I have come to enjoy that little one of hers. And Jaradal looks like you.”

  “You’d better go, Jondalar. I was told to hurry you along.”

  Jondalar folded the white tunic, wrapped it loosely in its soft leather covering, and laid it carefully on his bedroll, then he left with his brother, but he looked back over his shoulder at the package, eager to try the white tunic on, the tunic he would wear when he and Ayla were mated.

  31

  I didn’t know I would be so restricted today, or I would have made arrangements,” Ayla said. “I need to make sure the horses are all right, and Wolf needs to be able to come and go. He gets upset if he can’t check on me.”

  “This problem has never come up before,” Zelandoni of the Fourteenth said. “You are supposed to be in seclusion before the ceremony on the day of your mating. The Histories tell of a time when women had to be in seclusion for an entire moon!”

  “That was long ago, when matings were often in the winter, before they were done together in one Matrimonial,” the First said. “There were fewer Zelandonii then, and they didn’t have gathers the way we do now. For a single Cave to have one or two women restricted for a moon in the middle of winter is one thing, but to have many of them unable to contribute for that long in the hunting and harvesting season during a Summer Meeting is something else entirely. We’d still be trying to get the aurochs stored if the women who are mating had not helped.”

  “Well, that may be,” the older Zelandoni said, “but one day shouldn’t be too much.”

  “And normally it isn’t, but the animals make it an exceptional situation,” the First donier said. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

  “Do you object to the wolf coming and going as he chooses?” Marthona said. “The women don’t seem to mind him. We only need to allow the lower part of the entrance drape to stay unfastened.”

  “I don’t suppose that would be a problem,” the Fourteenth said.

  The Fourteenth had been pleasantly surprised when she met the four-legged hunter. He had licked her hand and seemed to warm to her, and she rather liked petting the fur of the living animal. After some questions, Ayla told the story of how she brought the baby wolf cub home and rescued the little filly from the hyenas. She had insisted that if they were young enough when you found them, many animals could probably become friendly with people. The Fourteenth had noticed how much attention and prestige Wolf brought to the foreign woman and wondered how difficult it would be to befriend an animal, but perhaps a smaller one. The size didn’t matter, any animal that would voluntarily stay in close contact with a person would bring attention.

  “Then, it’s just a matter of the horses. Can’t Jondalar attend to them?” Marthona asked.

  Of course he can, but I need to tell him that he should. I’m the one who has been doing it since we arrived at the Summer Meeting because h
e’s been busy with other things,” Ayla said.

  “She’s not allowed to communicate with him,” the Fourteenth insisted. “She can’t tell him anything!”

  “But someone else can,” Marthona said.

  “Not someone involved with the ceremony, I’m afraid. Not anyone who is related,” the Zelandoni of the Nineteenth said. “The Fourteenth is right, of course, and because women no longer stay in seclusion as long, it is even more important that we adhere to the day of seclusion strictly.” The white-haired woman may have been nearly crippled from her arthritis, but it did not limit her strength of character. Ayla had seen that before.

  Marthona was glad she hadn’t mentioned that she had given Jondalar the package from Ayla. The zelandonia would have been quite annoyed with her. They could get very adamant about complying with proper customs and behavior during important ceremonies, and while the former leader generally went along with them, privately she felt that exceptions could always be made. Leaders had to learn when to stand fast and when to bend a little.

  “Can someone who is not involved with the ceremony be told?” Ayla asked.

  “Who do you know that is absolutely not related to either you or your Promised?” the Fourteenth asked.

  Ayla thought for a moment. “What about Lanidar? Marthona, is he related to Jondalar in any way?” she asked.

  “No … no, he is not. I know that I am not, and Dalanar just mentioned to me on the morning they visited that he had been selected for the boy’s grandmother’s First Rites,” Marthona said. “So he’s not.”

  “That’s true,” the Nineteenth said. “I remember that Denoda was quite … overwhelmed by Dalanar. It took her some time to get over him. He handled it well. He was tactful, considerate, but kept his distance. I was impressed.”

  “Always,” Marthona said, almost under her breath, and finished in her thoughts, he always was entirely correct, did exactly the right thing.

  The Nineteenth wasn’t going to let it go. “Always what? Tactful? Considerate? Impressive?” she asked.

  Marthona smiled. “All of them,” she said.

  “And Jondalar is the child of his hearth,” the First said.

  “Yes,” Marthona said, “but there are differences. The boy doesn’t have quite the tact of the man, but perhaps more heart.”

  “No matter what man’s spirit started him, the child always has something of the mother, too,” the Zelandoni Who Was First said.

  Ayla listened carefully to the rather oblique conversation, especially after Jondalar was mentioned, and detected the mannerisms of voice and body that communicated even more than words. She understood that the Nineteenth’s comment about Denoda was less than complimentary, and sensed that the older Zelandoni had been quite attracted to Dalanar. There was also an implication that Marthona’s son had not shown the same refinement as her former mate—they all knew about his youthful indiscretions, of course. Marthona was aware of the old woman’s feeling toward both of them, and let her know that she knew Dalanar better and wasn’t quite as impressed with him.

  The First told them that she also knew both men and suggested that Jondalar was just like Dalanar and had the same attractive qualities, not less. She also paid an implied compliment to Marthona because Dalanar’s spirit and the Mother had chosen her to make the child of his hearth. Ayla was becoming aware that a woman who was chosen to have children by the spirit of the man to whom she was mated was held in higher esteem. Marthona made it clear to the zelandonia, especially to the Zelandoni of the Nineteenth, that while her son might not have all of Dalanar’s fine qualities, he had some that were better. The First not only agreed with her, but said that his better qualities came from his mother. It was obvious that the former leader and the Zelandoni of the Ninth Cave had a close personal relationship and great respect for each other.

  There were subtleties within subtleties that added meaning to the sign language of the Clan, including the understanding of facial expressions and postures as well as gestures and even some words, but the language that employed every nuance of voice, tone, and inflection as well as facial expressions, unconscious postures, and ancillary gestures conveyed even more, if one could grasp it. Ayla was very familiar with the unconscious signals of body language and was learning how they were expressed by the Others, but she was also becoming more consciously aware of spoken words and the manner in which they were used.

  “Can someone find Lanidar,” Ayla said, “so I can ask him to find Jondalar?”

  “No, you can’t ask him, Ayla,” Marthona said. “But I will,” she looked at the zelandonia who were gathered in the lodge that had become the mating women’s lodge, “if someone will go and look for him.”

  Of course,” the First said. She looked around to see who was available and signaled Mejera, now an acolyte of the Zelandoni of the Third Cave. She was with them when they had gone to search for Thonolan’s elan in the Deep of Fountain Rocks. She had been with the Fourteenth Cave then, but unhappy there. Ayla recognized her and smiled.

  “I have an errand for you,” the First said. “Marthona will explain.”

  “Do you know the boy Lanidar of the Nineteenth Cave?” Marthona started. There was no nod of recognition. “He’s the son of Mardena, her mother is Denoda.” Mejera shook her head in negation.

  “He can count about twelve years, but he looks younger,” Ayla added, “and his right arm is deformed.”

  A smile of affirmation creased Mejera’s face. “Yes, of course. He threw a spear at the demonstration.”

  “That’s the one,” Marthona said. “You need to find him, and when you do, tell him to find Jondalar and give him a message from me. Tell Lanidar to tell Jondalar that Ayla is concerned about the horses, and he needs to see to them before the Matrimonial tonight. Do you understand?”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier if I went and told Jondalar?” Mejera said.

  “It would be far easier, but you have a role in the Matrimonial this evening, and therefore you cannot give a message to Jondalar until afterward, certainly not from Ayla, even through me. However, if you cannot find Lanidar, I understand it would be acceptable for you to tell anyone else who is not related to him to give him the message. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I’ll do it. Don’t worry about them, Ayla, I’ll make sure he knows,” Mejera said then hurried out.

  “I suppose the zelandonia would find something objectionable about Mejera talking to you about it, so I don’t think we have to explain in detail,” Marthona said. “And we don’t have to mention the package you wanted to give him.”

  “I think we can refrain from mentioning anything,” Ayla said.

  “Now, it’s time for you to start getting ready,” Marthona said.

  “But it’s just past noon. It’s a long time until nightfall,” Ayla said. “It won’t take that long to put on the tunic Nezzie made for me.”

  “There’s more to it than that. We will all be going to The River so the women who are to be mated can bathe. They are even boiling water to purify it for the ritual. Not to mention, hot water is very nice for washing with. That’s one of the nicest parts of the pre-mating rituals. Jondalar and the men will be doing the same thing, in a different place, of course,” Marthona explained.

  “I love hot water,” Ayla said. “The Losadunai have a hot-water spring near their shelter. You can’t imagine how wonderful it feels to bathe in it.”

  “Yes, I can. I took a trip north once or twice. Not far from the source of The River, there are pools of hot water in the ground,” Marthona said.

  “I think I know the place, or one like it. We stopped there on our way here,” Ayla said. “There is one thing I wanted to ask. I meant to ask earlier, and I don’t know if it’s too late, but I was hoping to get my ears pierced. I have those two matched ambers that were given to me by Tulie, the head-woman of the Lion Camp, and I wanted to wear them, if I can find some way to hang them from my ears. That’s how she said I should wear them.”

  �
�I think that can be arranged,” the woman said. “I’m sure one of the zelandonia will be happy to do it for you.”

  “What do you think, Folara, this way? Or this way?” Mejera said as she held a section of Ayla’s hair in her hand and showed the young woman two alternatives. Folara had joined them when they returned to the zelandonia lodge, after their cleansing rituals. Though many lamps had been lit, it was still much darker inside than out in the bright sun, and Ayla wished she were out rather than sitting there while someone did things with her hair.

  “I like the first way better,” Folara said.

  “Mejera, why don’t you finish telling us where you finally found them,” Marthona said. It was obvious that Ayla was uncomfortable. She was not used to having someone fixing her hair, and the young acolyte seemed quite adept at talking while she was working. Marthona thought it might distract her.

  “Well, as I was saying, I asked everyone. No one seemed to know where either one of them was. Finally someone at your camp, I think it was the mate of one of Joharran’s close friends, Solaban or Rushemar, the one who has a baby. She was making a basket…”

  “That’s Rushemar’s mate, Salova,” Marthona said.

  “She said that one or the other might be with the horses, so I followed the creek upstream and that’s where I found both of them. Lanidar said his mother told him that you would be with the women all day, Ayla, so he decided he should check on the horses, like you asked. And Jondalar said the same thing, more or less. He knew you’d be with the women in seclusion all day and decided to see how the horses were doing. He found Lanidar there and was showing him how to use that spear-thrower thing,” Mejera explained.

  “It turned out that I wasn’t the only one who was looking for Jondalar. Joharran came a little later. He looked a little angry, or maybe just irritated. He’d been looking all over for Jondalar, to tell him that he was supposed to go to The River for his ritual purification with the rest of the men. Jondalar told me to tell you that the horses are fine, and that you were right, Wolf may have found a mate or a friend. He saw them together.”