Plains of Passage (31 page)

Beyond a grove of trees, off to the side of the inlet, a thin stream of smoke reached for the sky. Ayla smiled with anticipation, but Jondalar had reservations as they headed for the smoke. If that was smoke from a fireplace, why hadn’t they seen anyone? The people must have seen them by now. Why hadn’t they come to greet them? Jondalar shortened the rope he was using to lead Racer and patted his neck reassuringly.

When they saw the outline of a conical tent, Ayla knew they had
arrived at a Camp, and she wondered what people these were. They could even be Mamutoi, she thought, as she signaled Whinney to follow close. Then she noticed Wolf standing in his defensive posture, and she whistled the signal she had taught him. He retreated to her side as they entered the small encampment.

W
hinney followed closely behind Ayla as the woman walked into the Camp, to the fireplace that was still sending up a wavering wisp of smoke. There were five shelters arranged in a semicircle, and the firepit, dug slightly into the ground, was in front of the central one. The fire was burning briskly, the Camp had obviously been used recently, but no one announced any claim to the place by coming out to greet them. Ayla looked around, glancing inside the dwellings that were open, but she saw no one. Puzzled, she studied the shelters and the Camp more closely to see if she could learn any more about who the people were, and why they were gone.

The main part of each of the structures was similar to the conical tent used by the Mamutoi for their summer Camps, but there were noticeable differences. Where the Mammoth Hunters often enlarged their living space by attaching semicircular side tents made of hides to the main dwelling unit, often using another pole to help support the side additions, the shelters of this Camp had, instead, additions made of reeds and marsh grasses. Some were simply sloping roofs mounted on slender poles, others were completely enclosed, rounded additions made of thatch and woven mats, attached to the main dwelling.

Just outside the entrance flap of the nearest one, Ayla saw a pile of brown cattail roots on a mat of woven reeds. Beside the mat were two baskets. One was tightly woven and held slightly muddy water, the other was half-full of shiny white, freshly peeled roots. Ayla walked over and took a root out of the basket. It was still wet; it must have been placed there only a moment before.

As she put it back, she noticed a strange object lying on the ground. It was made of cattail leaves woven to resemble a person, with two arms sticking out the sides and two legs, and a piece of soft leather wrapped around it like a tunic. Two short lines for eyes had been drawn on the face with charcoal, and another line shaped into a smile. Tufts of feather grass had been fastened to the head as hair.

The people Ayla had grown up with did not make images, except for simple totem signs, such as the marks on her leg. She had been deeply scratched by a cave lion as a small girl, leaving her left thigh scarred
with four straight lines. A similar mark was used by the Clan to indicate a cave lion totem. That was why Creb had been so sure that the Cave Lion was her totem, in spite of the fact that it was considered a male totem. The Spirit of the Cave Lion had chosen her and marked her himself, and would therefore protect her.

Other Clan totems were indicated in similar ways, with simple signs often derived from the movements or gestures of their sign language. But the first truly representative image she had ever seen was the rough sketch of an animal Jondalar had drawn on a piece of leather used for a target, and she was puzzled at first by the object on the ground. Then, with a flash of recognition, she knew what it was. She had never had a doll when she was growing up, but she recalled similar objects that Mamutoi children played with and realized it was a child’s plaything.

It was suddenly obvious to Ayla that a woman had been sitting there with her child only moments before. Now she was gone and she must have left in a great hurry, since she had abandoned her food and had not even taken her child’s toy with her. Why would she leave in such a hurry?

Ayla turned and saw Jondalar, still holding Racer’s lead rope, bent down on one knee amidst a scattering of flint chips and examining a piece of the stone he had noticed. He looked up.

“Someone ruined a very good point with a badly made final stroke. It should have been just a tap, but it landed off the mark, and too hard … as though the knapper was suddenly interrupted. And here’s the hammerstone! It was just dropped.” The nicks on the hard oval stone indicated its long use, and the experienced flint knapper found it difficult to imagine anyone dropping and leaving a favored tool.

Ayla looked around and saw fish drying on a rack, with whole ones on the ground close by. One had been split open but left on the ground. There was more evidence of interrupted tasks, but no sign of the people.

“Jondalar, there were people here not very long ago, but they left in a big hurry. Even the fire is still burning. Where is everyone?”

“I don’t know, but you’re right. They left in a hurry. They just dropped everything and … ran away. As if they were … afraid.”

“But why?” Ayla said, looking around. “I don’t see anything to be afraid of.”

Jondalar started to shake his head, then noticed Wolf sniffing around the abandoned Camp, poking his nose into the entrances of the tents and around the places where things had been left. Then his attention was drawn to the hay-colored mare grazing nearby, dragging an arrangement of poles and bowl boat, strangely unconcerned about both the people and the wolf. The man turned to look at the young
dark-brown stallion that followed him so willingly. The animal was arrayed with pack baskets and riding blanket and was standing beside him patiently, held only by a single rope attached to his head with cord and leather.

“I think that may be the problem, Ayla. We don’t see it,” he said. Wolf suddenly stopped his nosy exploring, gazed intently at the woods, then started into them. “Wolf!” he called. The animal stopped and looked back at the man, wagging his tail. “Ayla, you’d better call him back or he’ll find the people of this Camp, and scare them even more.”

She whistled, and he ran to her. She fondled his ruff but was frowning at Jondalar. “Are you saying we scare them? That they ran away because they were afraid of us?”

“Remember Feather Grass Camp? The way they acted when they saw us? Think how we must seem to people when they first see us, Ayla. We are traveling with two horses and a wolf. Animals don’t travel with people, they usually avoid them. Even the Mamutoi at the Summer Meeting took a while to get used to us, and we arrived with Lion Camp. When you think about it, Talut was very brave to invite us, with our horses, to his Camp when we first met him,” Jondalar said.

“What should we do?”

“I think we should leave. The people of this Camp are probably hiding in the woods watching us, thinking we must come from some place like the spirit world. That’s what I would think if I saw us coming without any warning.”

“Oh, Jondalar,” Ayla wailed, feeling a rush of disappointment, and loneliness, as she stood in the middle of the vacated Camp. “I was so looking forward to visiting with some people.” She looked around the Camp once more, then nodded her head in acquiescence. “You’re right. If the people are gone and didn’t want to welcome us, we should leave. I just wish I could have met the woman with the child who left that plaything, and talked to her.” She started walking toward Whinney, who was just beyond the Camp. “I don’t want people to be afraid of me,” she said, turning to the man. “Will we be able to talk to anyone on this Journey?”

“I don’t know about strangers, but I’m sure we’ll be able to visit with the Sharamudoi. They might be a little wary at first, but they know me. And you know how people are. After they get over their initial fright, they get very interested in the animals.”

“I’m sorry we frightened these people. Maybe we could leave them a gift, even if we didn’t share their hospitality,” Ayla said. She began to look through her pack baskets. “I think some food would be nice, some meat, I think.”

“Yes, that’s a good idea. I have some extra points. I think I’ll leave
one to replace the one that toolmaker ruined. There is nothing more disappointing than to spoil a good tool just when you’re about to finish it,” Jondalar said.

As he reached into his pack for his leather-wrapped tool kit, Jondalar recalled that when he and his brother were traveling they met many people along the way, and they were usually welcomed and often helped. There had even been a couple of occasions when their lives had been saved by strangers. But if people were going to be afraid of them because of their animal companions, what would happen if Ayla and he ever needed help?

   They left the Camp and climbed back up the sandy dunes to the level field at the top of the long, narrow island, stopping when they reached the grass. They looked down at the thin column of smoke from the Camp and the brown silty river below, its noticeable current heading for the broad blue expanse of Beran Sea. With unspoken assent, they both mounted and turned east to get a better—and a last—look at the great inland sea.

When they reached the eastern tip of the island, though still within the banks of the river they were so close to the choppy waters of the sea that they could watch its waves washing sandbars with briny foam. Ayla looked out across the water and thought she could almost see the outline of a peninsula. The cave of Brun’s clan, the place where she had grown up, had been at its southern tip. It was there that she had given birth to her son, and there she had to leave him when she was forced out.

I wonder how big he is? she said to herself. Taller than all the boys his age, I’m sure. Is he strong? Healthy? Is he happy? Does he remember me? I wonder. If only I could just see him one more time, she thought, then realized that if she was ever going to look for him, this would be her last chance. From here, Jondalar planned to turn west. She would never be this close to her clan, or Durc, again. Why couldn’t they go east, instead? Just make a short side trip before they went on? If they skirted the northern coast of the sea, they could probably reach the peninsula in a few days. Jondalar did say he would be willing to go with her if she wanted to try to find Durc.

“Ayla, look! I didn’t know there were seals in Beran Sea! I haven’t seen those animals since I was a youngster and went on a trek with Willomar,” Jondalar said, his voice full of excitement and longing. “He took both Thonolan and me to see the Great Waters, and then the people who live near the edge of the earth took us north on a boat. Have you seen them before?”

Ayla looked toward the sea, but closer in, where he was pointing.
Several dark, sleek, streamlined creatures, with light gray underbellies, were humping clumsily along a sandbar that had formed behind some nearly submerged rocks. While they watched, most of the seals dived back into the water, chasing a school of fish. They watched heads bobbing up while the last of them, smaller and younger, dove into the sea again. Then they were gone, disappearing as quickly as they had come.

“Only from a distance,” Ayla said, “during the cold season. They liked the floating ice offshore. Bran’s clan didn’t hunt them. No one could reach them, though Bran once told about a time he saw some on the rocks near a sea cave. Some people thought they were winter water spirits, not animals at all, but I saw little ones on the ice once, and I didn’t think water spirits had babies. I never knew where they went in the summer. They must have come here.”

“When we get home, I’ll take you to see the Great Waters, Ayla. You won’t believe it. This is a large sea, much bigger than any lakes I’ve ever seen, and salty I’m told, but it’s nothing compared to the Great Waters. That’s like the sky. No one has ever reached the other side.”

Ayla heard the eagerness in Jondalar’s voice, and she sensed his yearning to be home. She knew he wouldn’t hesitate to go with her to look for Bran’s clan and her son, if she told him that she wanted to. Because he loved her. But she loved him, too, and knew that he would be unhappy about the delay. She looked at the great sweep of water, then closed her eyes trying to hold back tears.

She wouldn’t know where to look for the clan, anyway, she thought. And it wasn’t Bran’s clan any more. It was Broud’s clan now, and she would not be welcome. Broud had cursed her with death; she was dead to them all, a spirit. If she and Jondalar had frightened the Camp on this island because of the animals, and their seemingly supernatural ability to control them, how much more would they scare the clan? Including Uba, and Durc? To them, she would be returning from the spirit world, and the companionable animals would be proof of it. They believed a spirit who came back from the land of the dead came to do them harm.

But once she turned west, it would be final. From this time on, for the rest of her life, Durc would be no more than a memory. There would be no hope of ever seeing him again. That was the choice she had to make. She thought she had made it long ago; she didn’t know the pain would be still so sharp. Turning her head so Jondalar would not see the tears that filled her eyes as she stared at the deep blue expanse of water, Ayla said a silent goodbye to her son for the last time. A fresh stab of grief filled her and she knew she would carry the ache in her heart with her forever.

———

They turned their backs on the sea and started walking through the waist-high steppe grass of the large island, giving the horses a rest and time to graze. The sun was high in the sky, bright and hot. Shimmering heat waves rose up from the dusty ground, bringing the warm aroma of earth and growing things. On the treeless plain atop the long narrow strip of land, they moved within the shade of their grass hats, but the evaporation of the surrounding river channels made the air humid and beads of sweat trickled down their dusty skin. They were grateful for the occasional cool breath from the sea, a fitful breeze filled with the rich scent of the life within its deep waters.

Ayla stopped and unwound her leather sling from her head and tucked it into her waistband, not wanting it to get too damp. She replaced it with a rolled piece of soft leather, similar to the one Jondalar wore, bound across her forehead and tied in the back, to absorb the moisture that dripped from her forehead.