The Land of Painted Caves (48 page)

“Why don’t you just show it to us. I’m sure we can clear it out and make do,” Willamar said. “We’ve been setting up tents every night. Just having a shelter will be a welcome change.”

“I should at least check to make sure there is adequate fuel for a fire,” the local Zelandoni said, starting toward the lodge.

The travelers followed behind. When they were settled in, they went to the area where those who had not gone to the Summer Meeting were staying. Having visitors was usually a welcome event, a diversion, except for those who were too ill or in pain and couldn’t move from their beds. The First always tried to make a point of checking in on the ones who were not well whenever she visited a Cave. Usually there wasn’t much she could do, but most people enjoyed the attention, and sometimes she could help. They were often elderly and would soon be walking the next world, or they were sick or hurt, or in the late stages of a difficult pregnancy. They were left behind but not abandoned. Loved ones, relatives or friends, made sure that there was somebody to look after them, and the leaders of the Caves usually assigned a rotation of hunters to help provide for them and to serve as runners if messages needed to be communicated.

A communal meal was being prepared. The visitors brought their own contribution to it, and helped them prepare it. It was close to the time of the longest days of the year and after everyone had eaten, the First suggested to Ayla and the Zelandoni of the Nineteenth, whom Ayla still referred to as Jonokol most of the time, that they visit with the ones who were not at the meal because they were sick or had some other physical condition, while it was still light. Ayla left Jonayla with Jondalar while she accompanied them, but Wolf came along.

No one had any immediate problems that hadn’t been taken care of. A young man had a broken leg, which Ayla thought hadn’t been set too well, but it was too late to do anything about it now. It was nearly healed, and he was able to walk, though with a bad limp. A woman had been severely burned on her arms and hands, with splashes on her face. She was also nearly healed, but had been left with some serious scarring and had avoided the Summer Meeting. She hadn’t even come out to meet the visitors. This was a situation that would require a different kind of care, the Donier thought. The rest were mainly older people, some who suffered from sore knees, hips, or ankles, or shortness of breath, or dizziness, or failing eyesight or hearing to such an extent that they hadn’t wanted to make the long hike, though they were glad to see the visitors.

Ayla spent some time with one man who was almost stone deaf, and the people who cared for him, and showed them some simple Clan talking signs so he could make his needs known and understand their replies. Though it took a while for him to understand what she was trying to do, once he did, he was quick to learn. Later, the Zelandoni told her it was the first time that he had seen the man smile in a long time.

As they were coming out of the structure under the overhanging shelter, Wolf left Ayla’s side and started sniffing around a structure in one corner. She heard a cry of fear in a woman’s voice. She left the others and immediately went to see what was wrong. She found a woman who had covered her head and shoulders with a soft buckskin blanket, cringing in a corner. It was the burned woman who had been hiding from the visitors. Wolf had dropped down on his belly, whining a little as he tried to edge closer. Ayla dropped down beside him and waited awhile, then began to speak to the frightened woman.

“This is Wolf,” Ayla said. She had named him the Mamutoi word for the animal, so the woman heard only a strange sound. She tried to squeeze farther back into the corner and covered her head completely. “He won’t hurt you.” Ayla put her arm around the wolf. “I found him when he was a tiny little puppy, but he grew up with the children of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi.”

The woman became very conscious of Ayla’s accent, especially after hearing her word for Wolf, and strange words for the name of the people she had mentioned. Despite herself, she was curious. Ayla could hear that her breathing had calmed down.

“There was a boy who lived with them who had been adopted by the leader’s mate,” Ayla continued. “Some people would call him an abomination, a mixture of Clan, the people some call Flatheads, and those who look like us, but Nezzie was a caring woman. She was nursing her own child and after the Clan woman who gave birth to him died, she fed the newborn infant. She just couldn’t let him go to the next world, too, but Rydag was weak, and he couldn’t talk the way we do.

“The people of the Clan mostly talk with hand movements. They have words, but not as many as we do, and they can’t say many of the words we speak. I lost my family in an earthquake, but I was lucky because a clan found me and a woman of the Clan raised me. I learned to speak the way they do. Their words don’t sound like ours, but those are the ones I learned to say when I was growing up. That’s why I sound different when I talk, especially some of my words. As hard as I try, I still can’t quite make certain sounds.”

Although the light in the corner was quite dim, Ayla noticed that the cover had fallen away from the woman’s head and she was obviously listening intently to Ayla’s story. Wolf was still whining softly and straining to inch forward to reach her.

“When I brought Wolf back to the lodge of the Lion Camp, he developed a special closeness to that boy who was weak. I don’t know why, but Wolf also loves babies and small children. They can poke at him, and pull his hair, and he never complains. It’s as if he knows they don’t mean to, and he just feels very protective toward them. You may think it’s a strange way for a wolf to act, but that’s how they behave toward their own puppies. The whole pack is protective toward the young ones and Wolf felt especially protective of that weak boy.”

Ayla bent closer to the woman as Wolf crept closer. “I think he feels that way about you. I think he knows that you were hurt, and he wants to protect you. See, he’s trying to reach you, but he’s being very careful about it. Have you ever touched a living wolf before? Their fur is soft in some places and coarse in others. If you give me your hand, I’ll show you.”

Without warning, Ayla reached for the woman’s hand and, before she could pull it away, put it on the top of Wolf’s head, as the animal laid his head down on her leg. “He’s warm, isn’t he? And he likes it when you rub behind his ears.”

Ayla felt her start to rub Wolf’s head, then took her hand away. She had felt the scarring, and the stiffness where the skin had pulled tight as it healed, but she seemed to have the use of her hand. “How did it happen? Your burns?” Ayla asked.

“I filled a cooking basket with hot stones, and added a few more until it was boiling, then I tried to move it over. It split open and the hot water splashed all over me,” she said. “It was so stupid! I knew that basket was wearing out. I should have stopped using it, but I was just going to make some tea, and it was nearby.”

Ayla nodded. “Sometimes we don’t stop to think. Do you have a mate? Or children?”

“Yes, I have a mate, and children, a boy and girl. I told him to take them to the Summer Meeting. No reason for them to pay the price for my stupidity. It was my fault that I can’t go anymore.”

“Why can’t you go anymore? You can walk, can’t you? You didn’t burn your legs or feet.”

“I don’t want people looking at me with pity for my scarred face and hands,” the woman said angrily, as tears came to her eyes. She moved her hand away from Wolf’s head and put the blanket back over her head.

“Yes, some people will look at you with pity, but we all have accidents, and some people are born with worse problems. I don’t think you can let it stop you from living. Your face is not that bad, and with time the scars will fade and won’t show as much. The scars on your hands and probably your arms are worse, but you can use your hands, can’t you?”

“Some. Not the way I used to.”

“They will get better, too.”

“How do you know so much? Who are you?” the woman said.

“I am Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandoni,” Ayla said, holding out her hands in formal greeting as she began reciting her names and ties, “Acolyte of the One Who Is First Among Those Who Serve The Great Earth Mother …” She went through all her usual names and ties because it gave her something to say. She ended with “Friend of the horses, Whinney, Racer, and Gray, and the four-legged hunter, Wolf—his name just means ‘wolf’ in the Mamutoi language. I greet you in the name of Doni, Mother of All.”

“You are the acolyte of the First? Her First Acolyte?” the woman said, forgetting her manners for the moment.

“Her only acolyte, although her former acolyte is with us, too. He is Zelandoni of the Nineteenth Cave now.” Ayla said. “We have come to see your Sacred Site.”

The woman suddenly realized that she was going to have to extend her hands and take hold of the hands of this young woman to formally introduce herself to the acolyte of the First, who had obviously traveled far and seemed so accomplished. This was one of the main reasons she hadn’t wanted to go to the Summer Meeting. She would have had to show not only her face but her burned hands to everyone she met. She bowed her head and thought about hiding them under the cover and saying she was unable to greet her properly, but the acolyte had already touched her hand and knew that wasn’t true. Finally, she took a deep breath, then pushed the blanket away and held out her badly burned hands.

“I am Dulana of the Fourth Cave of the South Land Zelandonii,” she said, beginning to recite her names and ties.

Ayla, holding both of her hands, concentrated on them. They were stiff and the skin was stretched, bumpy and irregular, and probably still a little painful, she thought.

“… in the name of Doni, I welcome you, Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii.”

“Are your hands still giving you some pain, Dulana?” Ayla asked. “Some willow-bark tea would probably help if they are. I have some with me if you need it.”

“I can get some from our Zelandoni, but I didn’t know if I should keep on taking it,” Dulana said.

“If you are still feeling pain, then do it. It keeps the heat and redness away, too. And I was just thinking that maybe you, or someone you know, could make some fine soft skins, maybe rabbit skins, and put together some mittens for you, except with fingers. Then when you meet people, they probably wouldn’t notice that your hands are a little rough. And do you have some nice clean white tallow? I can make a hand softening cream for you. Maybe add some beeswax, and rose petals to make it smell nice. I have some of both with me. You could rub it on during the day, and wear it under your finger-mittens, too. You can put it on your face to soften those burn scars and help them fade away,” Ayla said, thinking as she was talking of what could be done to help the woman.

Suddenly Dulana started crying.

“What’s wrong, Dulana?” Ayla said. “Did I say something to upset you?”

“No. It’s just the first time anyone has said anything to me that gave me hope,” Dulana sobbed. “I was feeling that my life was ruined, that everything had changed so much, nothing would ever be the same, but you make the burns and the scars seem like nothing, like no one will even notice, and you tell me all these things that can help. Our Zelandoni tries, but he’s so young, and healing isn’t his best talent.” The young woman paused and looked directly at Ayla. “I think I know why the First chose you for her acolyte, even if you weren’t born to the Zelandonii. She is the First, and you are First Acolyte. Should I call you that?”

Ayla gave her a wry smile. “I know that someday I will probably have to give up my name and be called ‘Zelandoni of the Ninth Cave,’ but not too soon, I hope. I like being called Ayla. It’s my name, the name my real mother gave me, or close to it anyway. It’s the only thing I have left from her.”

“Ayla, then, and how do you say the name of this wolf?” He had put his head back down on her leg again, and she found it comforting.

“Wolf,” Ayla said.

Dulana made an attempt at the name, and Wolf lifted his head and looked at her, acknowledging her effort.

“Why don’t you come out and meet everyone,” Ayla said. “The Trade Master is with us and he tells wonderful stories about his travels, and the First might sing some of the Elder Legends, and she has a beautiful voice. You shouldn’t miss out.”

“I guess maybe I could,” Dulana said, softly. She had been feeling lonely staying inside her dwelling by herself while everyone else was enjoying the visitors. When she got up and walked out, Wolf stayed close to her. Everyone from the Cave, especially the Zelandoni, was surprised to see her, and even more to see the way the four-legged hunter seemed to have developed a protective closeness to her. Instead of Ayla, or even Jonayla, he chose to sit beside Dulana. The First glanced at her acolyte and gave her an inconspicuous nod of approval.

   In the morning the visitors and some of the local residents prepared to visit the nearby painted cave. There were several stone shelters in the region, many of them home to various Caves, usually named with their own counting words, though on occasion two or three that lived close to each other joined together to make a single Cave. Most were empty now, with the people doing their usual summer traveling. A few people from nearby Caves who did not make the trek to their Summer Meeting had come to stay where there was a Zelandoni in residence.

All eight adults who were traveling on the Donier Tour, plus five who were staying at the Fourth Cave of the South Land Zelandonii, were in the group who came to see the Sacred Site, which included the two hunters who normally lived at the nearby stone shelter. Dulana had offered to watch Jonayla, Ayla suspected she missed her children. Jonayla was willing to stay with the woman, and Wolf was willing to stay with both of them, so Ayla agreed. Although the child could walk, she was only a four-year, so Ayla often carried her. Jondalar also carried her occasionally, but Ayla was so used to carrying her daughter, she felt as if she had forgotten something when they started out.

They reached the small stone shelter that the First had pointed out to Ayla on their way there. The opening faced east and it was obvious that the site had been used as a living space at times. The dark charcoal circle of a former fireplace was still partially surrounded with stones, though some were missing. A couple of larger chunks of limestone that had broken loose from wall or ceiling had been dragged closer to it for seating. A torn and discarded leather covering lay in a pile near a wall next to a few large and awkward pieces of wood that would likely last through the night if the fire was big and hot enough to get them started.