The Shelters of Stone Page 13

  “The little tributary down there is called Wood River,” Jondalar continued. “Many trees grow near it, and there is more wood in that valley than in most. It’s not used by hunters much.” Ayla nodded in tacit understanding.

  The valley of the feeder stream, flanked on the right by limestone cliffs and on the left by steep hills, was not like most of the open grassy valleys of the main river and its other nearby tributaries. It was dense with trees and vegetation, especially upstream. Unlike more open areas, woodlands were not prized by hunters, because hunting was more difficult. Animals were harder to see with trees and brush to hide behind and use for camouflage, and those that migrated in large herds tended to prefer valleys with sizable fields of grass. On the other hand, the valley did provide wood, for constructions, and implements, and for fire. Fruits and nuts were also collected, and several other plants that were gathered for food and other uses, along with smaller animals that fell to snares and traps. In a land of relatively few trees, no one disdained the value of Wood River Valley’s contributions.

  At the northeastern edge of the Ninth Cave’s terrace below, which also offered a view of the two river valleys, Ayla saw the obvious remains of a good-size fire. She hadn’t noticed it when she was there, she had been more concerned with following the trail down to the horse’s meadow in Wood River Valley.

  “Why is there such a large hearth at the edge of the terrace, Jondalar? It can’t be for warmth; is it used for cooking?”

  “That’s a signal fire,” he said, then continued when he noticed her puzzled expression. “A big balefire can be seen for quite a distance from that spot. We send messages to other Caves with the fires, and they pass the messages on with their signal fires.”

  “What kind of messages?”

  “Oh, many kinds. They are used a lot when herds are moving, letting hunters know what’s been seen. They are sometimes used to announce events or gathers, or some other kind of meeting.”

  “But how does someone know what the fire means?”

  “It’s usually arranged in advance, especially when it’s the season for certain herds to move and a hunt is planned. And there are certain fire signals that mean someone needs help. Any time that people see a fire burning there, they know to take notice. If they don’t know what it means, they will send a runner to find out.”

  “That’s a very clever idea,” she said, then added a thought. “It’s something like the Clan signs and signals, isn’t it? Communicating without words.”

  “I never thought of it that way, but I suppose you’re right,” he said.

  Jondalar went back a different way from the one they had come. He headed toward The River Valley along a switchback trail that traversed a zigzag down the steeper incline near the top, then turned right through grass and brush on the more gradual slope. It came out along the edge of the flat lowlands of the right bank of The River and cut directly across Wood River Valley to the horse’s meadow.

  On the way back, Ayla felt relaxed, but she didn’t have the exhilarating sense of freedom that she’d had on the ride out. Though she liked everyone she had met so far, there was still the big feast, and she was not anticipating meeting the rest of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii tonight. She wasn’t used to so many people all at once.

  They left Whinney and Racer in the grassy lea and found the place where the soap plant grew, but Jondalar had to point it out. It was one Ayla was not familiar with. She studied it carefully, noted similarities and differences, and made sure she would know it in the future, then got her pouch of dried ceanothus flowers.

  Wolf jumped into The River with them but didn’t stay in long after they stopped paying attention to him. After a long swim to soak away the dust and grime of traveling, they crushed the root of the plant and some water in a depression of a flat rock with a rounded stone to release the saponin-rich foam. They rubbed it on themselves and, laughing, on each other, then dove under to rinse off. She gave some ceanothus to Jondalar, then applied some directly to her wet hair. The plant was not as soapy, foaming up only a little, but it smelled sweet and fresh. By the time she rinsed again, the young woman was ready to get out.

  After drying with the soft skins, they spread them out and sat on them, sunning themselves. Ayla picked up the comb with four long teeth that had been carved out of mammoth ivory, which was a gift from her Mamutoi friend, Deegie, but when she started combing her hair, Jondalar stopped her.

  “Let me do that for you,” he said, taking the comb. He had developed a fondness for combing her hair after she washed it, taking pleasurable delight in feeling the thick mass of wet hair dry into soft, springy tresses. And it made her feel unaccustomedly pampered.

  “I like your mother and your sister,” Ayla said, sitting with her back to him while he combed, “and Willamar, too.”

  “They like you, too.”

  “And Joharran seems like a good leader. Do you know you and your brother have the same frown lines?” she asked. “I had to like him, he looks so familiar.”

  “He was smitten by that beautiful smile of yours,” Jondalar said. “Just as I am.”

  Ayla was quiet for a time, then showed the direction her thoughts had taken with her next comment. “You didn’t tell me there were so many people in your Cave. It’s like a whole Clan Gathering lives here,” she said. “And you seem to know them all. I’m not sure if I ever will.”

  “Don’t worry. You will. It won’t take you long,” he said, trying to work out a particularly irksome tangle. “Oh, sorry, did I pull too hard?”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m glad I finally met your Zelandoni. She knows medicine; it will be wonderful to have someone to talk with about it.”

  “She’s a powerful woman, Ayla.”

  “That’s obvious. How long has she been Zelandoni?”

  “Let me think,” he answered. “Not long after I left to live with Dalanar, I think. I still thought of her as Zolena then. She was beautiful. Voluptuous. I don’t think she was ever thin, but she is growing to look more and more like the Great Mother. I think she likes you.” He stopped combing for a moment, paused, then started to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Ayla asked.

  “I was listening to you tell her how you found me, and about Baby and all. She’ll be asking you more questions, you can be sure. I was watching her expression. Every time you answered a question, she probably wanted to ask you three more. You just made her more curious. You do it every time. You are a mystery, even to me. Do you know just how remarkable you are, woman?”

  She had turned around, and he was looking at her with loving eyes.

  “Give me a little time and I’ll show you how remarkable you can be,” she answered, a lazy, sensuous smile spreading across her face. Jondalar reached over to kiss her.

  They heard a laugh and they both jerked around.

  “Oh, did we interrupt anything?” said a woman. It was the attractive light-haired, dark-eyed woman who had listened to Folara tell her friends about the newly arrived travelers. Two other women were with her.

  “Marona!” Jondalar said, frowning slightly. “No, you are not interrupting anything. I’m just surprised to see you.”

  “Why should you be surprised to see me? Did you think I had left on an unexpected Journey?” Marona said.

  Jondalar squirmed and glanced at Ayla, who was looking at the women. “No. Of course not. I guess I’m just surprised.”

  “We were just out taking a walk when we happened to see you there, and I admit, Jondalar, I couldn’t resist wanting to make you feel a little uncomfortable. After all, we were Promised.”

  They hadn’t been formally Promised, but he didn’t argue with her. He knew he had certainly given her the impression that they were.

  “I didn’t know that you would still be living here. I thought you might have mated someone from another Cave,” Jondalar said.

  “I did,” she said. “It didn’t last, so I came back.” She had been eyeing his hard, tanned, naked body in
a way that was familiar to him. “You haven’t changed much in five years, Jondalar. Except for a few nasty scars.” She turned her gaze to Ayla. “But we really didn’t come here to talk to you. We came to meet your friend,” Marona said.

  “She’ll be formally introduced to everyone tonight,” he said, feeling protective of Ayla.

  “That’s what we heard, but we don’t need a formal introduction. We just wanted to greet her and make her welcome.”

  He could hardly refuse to introduce them. “Ayla, of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi, this is Marona of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, and her friends.” He looked more closely. “Portula? Of the Fifth Cave? Is it you?” Jondalar asked.

  The woman smiled and blushed with pleasure to be remembered. Marona frowned at her. “Yes, I’m Portula, but I’m Third Cave now.” She certainly remembered him. He had been chosen for her First Rites.

  But he recalled that she had been one of those young women who had followed him around afterward, trying to get him alone, even though they were forbidden to associate for at least a year after First Rites. Her persistence had spoiled somewhat his memory of a ceremony that usually left him with a warm glow of fondness for the young woman involved.

  “I don’t think I know your other friend, Marona,” Jondalar said. She seemed to be a little younger than the other two.

  “I am Lorava, Portula’s sister,” the young woman said.

  “We all became acquainted when I was mated to a man from the Fifth Cave,” Marona said. “They came to visit me.” She turned to Ayla. “Greetings, Ayla of the Mamutoi.”

  Ayla stood up to return the greetings. Although it normally wouldn’t have bothered her, she found herself feeling slightly disconcerted to be greeting unfamiliar women with no clothes on, and wrapped her drying skin around her, tucking it in at the waist, and put her amulet back around her neck.

  “Grrreetings, Marrrona, of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonyee,” Ayla said, her slightly rolled r’s and peculiar throaty accent marking her immediately as a stranger. “Grrreetings, Porrrtula of the Fifth Cave, and Grrreetings to her Sister, Lorrrava,” she continued.

  The younger woman tittered at Ayla’s funny way of talking and then tried to hide it, and Jondalar thought he noticed a trace of a smirk on Marona’s face. His brow wrinkled in a frown.

  “I wanted to do more than greet you, Ayla,” Marona said. “I don’t know if Jondalar ever mentioned it, but as you know by now, we were Promised before he decided to leave on this great Journey he suddenly had to make. As I’m sure you must know, I wasn’t very pleased about it.”

  Jondalar was trying to think of something to say to ward off what he felt sure was coming, Marona letting Ayla know that she was very unhappy by giving her an earful of his faults, but she surprised turn.

  “But that was in the past,” Marona said. “To be honest, I haven’t thought about him in years, until you arrived today. Other people may not have forgotten, however, and some of them like to talk. I wanted to give them something else to talk about, to show them that I can greet you appropriately.” She motioned toward her friends to include them. “We were going to go to my room to get ready for your Welcome Feast tonight, and we thought you might like to join us, Ayla. My cousin Wylopa is there already—you remember Wylopa, don’t you, Jondalar? I thought it would give you a chance to get acquainted with some women before all the formal meetings tonight.”

  Ayla noticed some tension, particularly between Jondalar and Marona, but under the circumstances that wouldn’t be unusual. Jondalar had mentioned Marona, and that they had been almost Promised before he left, and Ayla could imagine how she would feel in the woman’s place. But Marona had been straightforward about it, and Ayla did want to get to know some of the women better.

  She missed women friends. She had known so few women her own age when she was growing up. Uba, Iza’s true daughter, had been like a sister to her, but Uba was much younger, and while Ayla had grown to care for all the women of Brun’s clan, there were differences. No matter how hard she tried to be a good Clan woman, some things she could not change. It wasn’t until she went to live with the Mamutoi and met Deegie that she came to appreciate the fun of having someone her own age to talk to. She missed Deegie, and Tholie of the Sharamudoi, too, who had quickly become a friend that Ayla would always remember.

  “Thank you, Marona. I would like to join you. This is all I have to wear,” she said, quickly putting on her simple, travel-stained outfit, “but Marthona and Folara are going to help me make some clothes. I’d like to see what you wear.”

  “Perhaps we can give you a few things, as a welcoming gift,” Marona said.

  “Would you take this drying skin back with you, Jondalar?” Ayla said.

  “Of course,” he said. He held her close for a heartbeat and brushed her cheek with his, then she left with the three women.

  As Jondalar watched them go, his troubled frown deepened. Though he hadn’t formally asked Marona to be his mate, he had led her to believe they would be joined at the Matrimonial of the upcoming Summer Meeting before he left, and she had been making plans. Instead he left with his brother on a Journey and just hadn’t shown up. It must have been difficult for her.

  It wasn’t that he had loved her. There was no doubt she was beautiful. Most men considered her to be the most beautiful and desirable woman at the Summer Meetings. And though he didn’t entirely agree, she certainly had her ways when it came to sharing Doni’s Gift of Pleasure. She just wasn’t the one he desired most. But people said they were perfect for each other, they looked so good together, and everyone had expected them to tie the knot. He more or less did, too. He knew he wanted to share a hearth with a woman and her children someday, and since he couldn’t have Zolena, the one woman he wanted, it might as well be Marona.

  He had not really admitted it to himself, but he had felt relieved when he decided to go with Thonolan on a Journey. At the time, it seemed the easiest way to extricate himself from his involvement with her. He had been sure she would find someone else while he was gone. She said she had, but it hadn’t lasted. He had expected to find her with a hearth full of children. She didn’t say anything about children at all. It was surprising.

  He had no idea he would find her unmated when he returned. She was still a beautiful woman, but she did have a temper and a vicious streak. She could be very spiteful and vindictive. Jondalar’s forehead knotted with concern as he watched Ayla and the three women walking toward the Ninth Cave.

  6

  Wolf saw Ayla walking along the path through the horse meadow with the three women and raced toward her. Lorava squealed at the sight of the large carnivore, Portula gasped and looked around in panic for a place to run, and Marona blanched in fear. Ayla glanced at the women as soon as she saw the wolf and, noting their reactions, quickly signaled him to stay.

  “Stop, Wolf!” she voiced aloud, more for the benefit of the women than to halt the animal, although it did reinforce her signal. Wolf stopped in his tracks and watched Ayla, alert for a sign that he could approach her. “Would you like to meet Wolf?” she said, then, seeing that the women still showed fear, she added, “He won’t hurt you.”

  “Why would I want to meet an animal?” Marona said.

  The tone of her voice made Ayla look more closely at the light-haired woman. She noted fear but, surprisingly, an inflection of disgust and even anger. Ayla could understand the fear, but the rest of Marona’s reaction seemed inappropriate. It was certainly not the response she was used to seeing the animal evoke. The other two women looked at Marona, then seemed to follow her lead, showing no indication that they wanted to get close to the wolf.

  Wolf’s stance had become more wary, Ayla saw. He must sense something, too, she thought. “Wolf, go find Jondalar,” she said, giving him a signal to go. He stayed a moment longer, watching her, then bounded away as she turned to walk up the path toward the enormous stone shelter of the Ninth Cave with the three women.

  They passed by seve
ral people on the path, and each one showed an immediate reaction to seeing her with the women. Some cast speculative glances or bemused smiles, some seemed surprised, even startled. Only young children seemed to pay no attention to them. Ayla could not help but notice, and it put her a bit on edge.

  She studied Marona and the other women, though not obviously, using the techniques of women of the Clan. No one could be more inconspicuous than Clan women. They could quietly fade into the background and seem to disappear, and they gave the impression that they were not aware of anything around them, but that was misleading.

  From the time they were very young, girls were taught never to stare or even look directly at a man, to be unobtrusive, and yet they were expected to know when one needed or wanted her attention. As a consequence, Clan women learned to focus carefully and precisely, and with a glance absorb significant information from posture, movement, and expression very quickly. And they missed little.

  Ayla was as adept as any of them, though she wasn’t as aware of this legacy of her years with the Clan as she was of her ability to read body language. Her observations of the women put her on guard and made her think again about Marona’s motives, but she didn’t want to make any assumptions.

  Once they were under the stone ledge they headed in a different direction from the one she had gone before and entered a large dwelling more toward the middle of the space. Marona led them in and they were greeted by another woman who seemed to be waiting for them.

  “Ayla, this is my cousin, Wylopa,” Marona said on their way through the main room and into a side sleeping room. “Wylopa, this is Ayla.”

  “Greetings,” Wylopa said.