The Shelters of Stone (101 page)

“I, Joharran, Leader of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, speak for this couple, and welcome Jondalar and Ayla to the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii,” Jondalar’s older brother said. Then he turned to face the people gathered behind him in the audience.

“We of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii welcome them,” they said in unison.

Then Zelandoni held out both her arms, as though trying to embrace everyone there. “All the Caves of the Zelandonii,” she said, her tone commanding attention. “Jondalar and Ayla have chosen each other. It has been agreed, and they have been accepted by the Ninth Cave. What do you say to this joining?”

There was a roar of approval. If anyone had disagreed, the objection would have been drowned out. The donier waited for the noise to subside, then she said, “Doni, the Great Earth Mother, approves this joining of Her children. By Blessing Ayla, She has smiled on this union.” At her signal, Ayla and Jondalar held hands and extended them toward the Zelandoni Who Was First. She took a simple leather thong, wrapped it around their joined hands, and tied it with a knot. When they returned from their trial period, they would return the thong whole, not cut, and in exchange they would be given matched necklaces, a gift from the zelandonia. That
would be the signal that their joining was sanctioned and other gifts could now be given.

“The knot has been tied. You are mated. May Doni always smile on you.” The young couple circled around to face outward toward the people, and Zelandoni announced, “They are now Jondalar and Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii.”

They all stepped away together, including the One Who Was First To Serve The Great Earth Mother, to make room for the next couple. While everyone else moved back farther into the audience to make room for the family of the next couple, Ayla and Jondalar walked to where the other couples who had thongs tied around their wrists were waiting. They were not quite through.

Though most people watching enjoyed the spectacle of seeing this pair who had been so favored make their commitments and have their wrists bound, there were a few for whom the mating brought out other feelings entirely. One was a beautiful woman with nearly white hair, very fair skin, and gray eyes that were so dark, they were nearly black. Most men looked at Marona approvingly, until they saw her disagreeable frown, but she ignored them.

Marona was not smiling with approval at the lovely couple. She was glaring with pure hatred at the foreign woman and the man who had once Promised himself to her. She was supposed to have been the center of attention that year, but instead he went on a Journey and left her stranded with no man to mate. To make it worse, his close cousin had come, that strange-looking black-haired woman that everyone said was so beautiful—who was going to mate the ugliest man she had ever seen—and she got all the attention. Yes, she had found a reasonably acceptable man to mate before the summer was over, but he wasn’t Jondalar, the man everyone wanted and she was supposed to get. They were both happy to sever the knot a few years later. It had been the worst Summer Meeting Marona had ever endured, until now.

This year, Jondalar had finally returned, but with a foreign woman, who insisted on having animals around her and
didn’t even care if she wore boys’ underwear. Now they were mated, and she was pregnant, already Blessed. It wasn’t fair. And where did she get that outfit she was wearing, open, and showing off her breasts? Marona wouldn’t have hesitated to wear an outfit like that, if she had thought of it first, but she never would now, even if all the other women did, and she knew they would. Someday, Marona said to herself. Someday I’ll find a way to show them. Someday he’ll be sorry, they’ll both be sorry. Someday.

There were others who were not particularly pleased with the pairing. Laramar just didn’t like either one of them. Jondalar always looked at him with disdain, even when he was drinking his barma, and that woman Ayla, with that wolf, who made such an issue about Tremeda’s youngest and had Lanoga thinking she was so wonderful. Lanoga wasn’t even there to fix him a meal half the time anymore. Instead she was sitting around with those other women just like that baby was hers, and she wasn’t even a woman yet, but she was getting there. She might even turn out to be a decent-looking woman someday, a lot better looking than that slovenly old woman who was her mother. I just wish that Ayla would stay away from my lodge, Laramar thought. Then he smirked, unless she wants some honoring. I wonder what she’d be like full of barma at a Mother Festival? Who knows? Someday.

There was another person who was watching that wished the couple less than happiness. My name is Madroman now, the acolyte thought, and I wish they’d remember, especially Jondalar. Look at him, so smug, all dressed up in that white tunic, making all those newly mated women smile. He was surprised when he found out I am part of the zelandonia now. He never expected it, he didn’t think I could do it, but I’m a lot smarter than he thinks. And I will become Zelandoni, in spite of that fat woman who’s been playing up to Jondalar’s foreign woman like she’s already Zelandoni.

She is beautiful, though. I could have found someone like that if he hadn’t knocked my teeth out. He had no reason to hit me like that. All I did was tell the truth. He wanted to
mate Zolena, and she would have agreed if I hadn’t let them know. I should have let them mate, then that smiling face would be mated to a fat old woman instead of that foreigner he brought back. She plays at being a Zelandoni, but she isn’t. She’s not even an acolyte, and she can’t even talk right. I wonder how many women would think he was so wonderful if someone knocked his teeth out? That would be something to see. I’d really like to see that, someday.

A fourth pair of eyes had watched the mating of the favored pair with less than pleasant feelings of goodwill. Brukeval couldn’t stop looking at the golden woman with her hair tumbling around her shoulders and her large, beautiful breasts exposed. She was pregnant, they were a mother’s breasts, and he wanted more than anything to reach out and touch them, fondle them, suckle them. They were so perfect, he began to feel that she was flaunting those perfect breasts, taunting him on purpose with their fullness, their hard pink nipples begging to be sucked.

Jondalar is going to touch those breasts, hold them, take those nipples in his mouth and suck them. Always Jondalar, always the favored one, always the lucky one. He even had the best mother. Marona’s mother never cared about me, but Marthona was always there when I couldn’t stand it anymore. She would always talk to me, explain things to me, let me stay with them for a while. She was always kind. Jondalar wasn’t so bad, but that was because he felt sorry for me, because I didn’t have his mother. Now he is mating a mother, a woman golden as Bali, the great golden son of the Mother, with beautiful breasts, who is going to be a mother.

She had been so happy to see him coming for her with his torch to lead her out of that cave, and she had said if it weren’t for Jondalar, she would consider him, but she didn’t mean it. When Jondalar and that flathead came, she made it known that she thought he was a flathead just like that one from the Lanzadonii. I don’t know how Dalanar could even allow that flathead to look at the daughter of his mate, much less to mate her. That’s wrong. He is an abomination, half animal, half human. It shouldn’t be allowed. Joplaya seemed
like a decent young woman, she was quiet, and she’d always been nice to him, but how could she consider mating that flat-head? It’s just not right. Someone should stop it, Brukeval thought.

Maybe I should. If Ayla thought about it, she would know I was doing the right thing. It might make her appreciate me. I wonder if she really would consider me if something happened, if Jondalar wasn’t there anymore? If something happened to Jondalar, I wonder, would she consider me, someday?

L
evela and Jondecam held up their joined hands in welcome when Ayla and Jondalar arrived at the waiting area. “Did she say you were already Blessed, Ayla?” Levela said, rushing toward her.

Ayla nodded, a little too overcome with emotion to trust herself to talk.

Oh, Ayla! That’s wonderful! Why didn’t you tell me? Did Jondalar know? You are so lucky!” she said, not giving Ayla time to answer and trying to give her a hug. But she forgot for a moment about the hand to which she was tied and got tangled up with Jondecam’s arm. They all laughed, including some who were nearby, and Levela ended up giving Ayla a one-arm hug.

“And your outfit is so beautiful, Ayla. I’ve never seen anything like it. It has so many ivory beads and ambers, in places it almost seems to be made out of ivory and amber. The leather is the perfect shade of yellow to go with it. And I love the way you wear it, open like that, especially since you are going to be a mother soon. It must be heavy, though. Where did you get it?” Levela said. She was so excited, Ayla had to smile.

“Yes, it is heavy, but I’m used to it. I carried it a long way. Nezzie gave this to me when she thought I was going to be mating a Mamutoi man, and she told me how to wear it. She
was the mate of the headman of the Lion Camp. When I decided to leave with Jondalar instead, she told me to take it and wear it when I mated him. She liked him, they all did. They wanted him to stay and become Mamutoi, but he said he needed to go home. I think I understand why,” Ayla said. Several people were crowded around, listening. They wanted to be able to tell people what the foreign woman said about her richly made clothes.

“Jondalar looks wonderful, too,” Levela said. “Your outfit is exquisite because of the beadwork and decorations, the whole thing. Jondalar’s is a perfect contrast, stunning just because of the color.”

“That’s right,” Jondecam said. “All of us are wearing our best clothes,” he indicated his own clothing, “which usually means decorated, though no one has anything as incredible as your outfit, Ayla, but when Jondalar came out wearing that, everybody noticed. His tunic is simple elegance, especially on him. I know how these things work. All the women are going to want an outfit like yours, and all the men will want something white like his. Did someone give that to you, Jondalar?”

“Ayla did,” Jondalar said.

“Ayla! Did you make that?” Levela said, surprised.

“A Mamutoi woman taught me how to make white leather,” Ayla said. People were turning around, facing the next Zelandoni.

“We better stop talking, they are getting started,” Levela said.

After they quieted so the ceremony for the next couple could begin, Ayla thought about why the mating ritual included tying the wrists of the couples together with a thong that would be difficult to untie. The tangle of arms when Levela, in her excitement, rushed to hug her made her understand that being tied together forced one to consider the other before rushing ahead without thinking. Not a bad first lesson to learn about being mated.

“I wish they’d hurry,” one of the other newly mated men said under his breath. “I’m starving. With all dus fasting today,
I’m sure they could hear my stomach growling all the way in the back.”

Ayla was rather glad for the Zelandoni’s long recitation of the names and ties, it gave her time to think and be alone with her own thoughts. She was mated. Jondalar was her mate. Maybe now she could begin to feel that she really was Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, although she was glad that Ayla of the Mamutoi was a part of her names. Just because they were going to be living with the Ninth Cave didn’t mean she was a different person. She just had new names and ties to add to her list of connections and relations. She hadn’t lost her Clan totem, either.

Her mind wandered back to the time when she was a girl living with the Clan. When they mated, they had no such knot-tying customs, but they didn’t need them. From the time they were young, women of the Clan were taught always to be aware of the men of the Clan, particularly the one to whom they were mated. A good Clan woman was expected to anticipate the requirements and wishes of her mate, because a man of the Clan learned from an early age never to be aware of, or at least not to show that he was aware of, his own needs, discomfort, or pain. He could never ask for her help, she had to know when it was needed.

Broud didn’t need her help when he asked, but he made demands all the time. He invented things for her to do just because he could make her do them—bring him a drink of water, tie on his leg coverings. He could claim that she was just a girl and had to learn, but he didn’t care if she learned, and it didn’t make any difference when she tried to please him. He wanted to show his power over her because she had resisted him, and women of the Clan did not willfully disobey men. She had made him feel less than a man and he hated her for it, or perhaps at some instinctual level he knew that her kind were different. It had not been an easy lesson for her to learn, but she had learned, and it was Broud, with his constant demands, who taught her, but Jondalar was the recipient. She was always aware of him, and it occurred to her
that was why she was always uncomfortable when she didn’t know where he was. She was that way about her animals, too.