The Shelters of Stone (78 page)

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Authors: Jean M. Auel

Tags: #Historical fiction

BOOK: The Shelters of Stone
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“Would you be willing to assist the zelandonia? We have some Searchers, but it is always better if there are more,” the donier said. She could see some reluctance.

“I’d like to help.… but … I don’t want to be a Zelandoni. I just want to mate with Jondalar and have children,” Ayla said.

“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. No one can force
you, Ayla, but if a Search leads to a successful hunt, then the Matrimonial will be lucky, or so it is believed, and will produce long matings and successful hearths—families,” the First said.

“Yes, well, I suppose I could try to help, but I don’t know if lean,” Ayla said.

“Don’t worry. No one is ever sure. All anyone can do is try.” Zelandoni felt pleased with herself. It was obvious that Ayla was reluctant and would try to resist becoming zelandonia, and this would be a way to get her started. She needs to be a part of the zelandonia, the First thought. She has too much talent, too many skills, and she asks questions that are too intelligent. She has to be brought into the fold or she might create dissension outside of it.

25

W
hen they neared the camp, Wolf raced out to greet her. She saw him coming and braced herself, just in case he jumped up on her in his enthusiasm, but signaled him to stay down. He stopped, though it seemed it was all he could do to control himself. She hunkered down to his level and allowed him to lick her neck while she held him down until he composed himself. Then she stood up. He looked up at her with what seemed to her to be such a hopeful, yearning expression, she nodded her head and tapped the front of her shoulder. He jumped up, putting his paws where she had signaled and, with a low-rumbling growl, took her jaw in his teeth. She returned the gesture, and then she held his magnificent head in both her hands and looked into his gold-flecked eyes.

“I love you, too, Wolf, but sometimes I wonder why you love me so much. Is it just that I have become the leader of your pack, or is it something more?” Ayla said, touching her forehead to his, then signaled him down.

“You command love, Ayla,” the First said, “and the love you invoke cannot be denied.”

Ayla looked at her, thinking it was a strange comment. “I don’t command anything,” she said.

“You command that wolf. He is motivated to please you by the love he feels for you. It’s not that you try to beguile or entice, but you draw it to you. And those who love you, love
you profoundly. I see it in your animals. I see it in Jondalar. I know him. He has never loved anyone the way he loves you, and he never will. Perhaps it is because you give of yourself so fully and so openly, or perhaps it is a Gift from the Mother, to inspire love. You will always be loved with great fervor, but one must be wary of the Mother’s Gifts.”

“Why do people say that, Zelandoni?” Ayla asked. “Why should someone be concerned about a Gift from the Mother? Aren’t Her Gifts a good thing?”

“Perhaps it’s because Her Gifts are too good. Or because they are too powerful. How do you feel if someone gives you something of great value?” the donier asked.

“Iza taught me that a gift creates an obligation. You must give something of equal value back,” Ayla said.

“The more I learn about the people who raised you, the more I grow to respect them,” said the One Who Was First. “When the Great Earth Mother bestows a Gift, She may expect something in return, something of equal value. When much is given, much may be expected, but how can one know what that is until the time comes? So people are leery. Sometimes Her Gifts are too much, more than one wants, but they can’t be given back. Too much doesn’t necessarily bring any more happiness than not enough.”

“Even too much love?” Ayla asked.

“The best example to answer that is Jondalar. He was definitely favored by the Mother,” said the woman once known as Zolena, “too favored, he was given too much. He is so remarkably handsome and well made, he can’t help but draw attention. Even his eyes are such an exceptional color, one can hardly keep from staring at him. He has a natural charm, people are drawn to him, but women in particular—I don’t think there is a woman alive who could refuse him whatever he asked, not the Mother Herself—and he delights in pleasing women. He’s intelligent, and exceptionally skilled at flint-knapping, and with it all he was given a caring heart, but he cares too much. He has too much love to give.

“Even his love for working the stone, for making tools, is for him a true passion. But the intensity of his feelings for
whatever he loves is so strong, it can overwhelm him, and those he cares for. He fights to keep it under control, but it has occasionally gotten away from him. Ayla, I’m not sure you understand how powerful his feelings are. And all his Gifts didn’t make him happy, at least not until now, they have often aroused more envy than love.”

Ayla nodded with a thoughtful frown. “I have heard several people say Jondalar’s brother Thonolan was a favorite of the Mother and that’s why he was taken so young,” Ayla said. “Was he exceptionally handsome, and given many Gifts?”

“He was a favorite of everyone, not only the Mother. Thonolan was a fine-looking man, but he didn’t have the overwhelming … I’m tempted to say beauty—masculine beauty, to be sure—of Jondalar, but he had such a warm and open nature that wherever he went, people loved him, men and women alike. He made friends, easily and naturally, and no one resented him, or was envious of him,” the woman said.

They had been standing and talking, with the wolf crouched at Ayla’s feet. As they started walking again toward the campare, Ayla still frowned, thinking about the donier’s words.

“Now that Jondalar has brought you home, many men are even more envious, and many women are jealous of you, because he loves you,” Zelandoni continued. “That was why Marona tried to make you look foolish. She was jealous, envious of both of you, I think, because you have found happiness in each other. Some people think she was given much, but all she ever had was an unusual beauty, and beauty alone is the most deceptive of Gifts. It doesn’t last. She is an unpleasant woman, who seems to think of little besides herself, with few friends and no real talents. When Marona’s beauty fades she will have nothing, I’m afraid, not even children, it seems.”

They walked together a few steps, then Ayla stopped and turned toward the woman. “I haven’t seen Marona lately, not for several days before we left and not on the trek here.”

“She went back to the Fifth Cave with her friend and came here with them. She is staying at their camp,” the donier said.

“I don’t like Marona, but I am sorry for her if she can’t have children. Iza knew some things that could be done to make a woman more receptive to the impregnating spirit,” Ayla said.

“I know of a few, too, but she hasn’t asked for help, and if she is really unable to conceive, nothing will help,” the woman said.

Ayla heard the tone of sorrow in her voice. She would be sorry, too, if she couldn’t have children. Then her frown was replaced by a radiant smile. “Did you know I am going to have a child?” she said.

Zelandoni smiled back. Her speculation about Ayla was confirmed. “I’m very happy for you, Ayla. Does Jondalar know your mating has been blessed?”

“Yes. I told him. He’s very pleased.”

“He should be. Have you told anyone else?”

Only Marthona, and Proleva, and now you.”

“If it’s not generally known, we can surprise everyone at your Matrimonial and announce your good news, if you like,” Zelandoni said. “There are special words that can be part of the ceremony if the woman is already Blessed.”

“I think I would like that,” Ayla said. “I’ve stopped marking my moon times, since my bleeding has stopped, but I’m wondering if I should start marking days again, to keep track of them until my baby is born. Jondalar taught me how to use the counting words, but I don’t know how to count that far.”

“Do you find the counting words difficult, Ayla?” –

“Oh, no. I like using counting words,” she said. “Jondalar surprised me the first time he used them, though. Just from the marks I made on my sticks every night, he knew how long I lived in the valley. He said it was easier because I cut an extra line above the marks on the days when my moon time started, so I would be prepared for it. I seemed to have more trouble hunting when I was bleeding. I think animals could smell me. After a while I noticed that my bleeding always came when the waning moon reached the same shape, so I didn’t have to make the marks, but I made them anyway. You can’t always see the moon if it’s stormy or cloudy.”

Zelandoni thought she was getting accustomed to the surprises Ayla could come up with in such an offhand way, as though it were nothing. But making counting marks when she bled and then making the connection to moon phases was rather astonishing for someone to make by herself.

“Would you like to learn more counting words, and different ways to use them, Ayla?” the woman said. “They can be used to know when seasons are ready to change, before the changes are apparent, for example, or to count the days until your baby is born.”

“Yes, I would,” Ayla said, smiling broadly. “I learned how to make marks from Creb, although I think it made him nervous when I did it. Most women of the Clan, or men, for that matter, couldn’t count much past three. Creb could make counting marks because he was The Mog-ur, but he didn’t have words for counting.”

“I’ll show you how to count larger numbers,” the First said. “I think it’s best that you are having your children now, when you are young. You may not want to worry about taking care of young children when you are older. There is no telling what you may decide to do.”

“I’m not so young, Zelandoni. I can count nineteen years, if Iza was right about how many years I was when she found me,” Ayla said.

“You certainly look younger than you are.” A fleeting frown crossed Zelandoni’s face. “But it shouldn’t matter. You have a head start,” she said almost to herself, and finished in her thoughts, She is already a skilled healer, she won’t have to learn that before becoming a Zelandoni.

“A head start on what?” Ayla asked, puzzled.

“Uh … you have a head start on your family, since Ufe has already begun,” Zelandoni said. “But I hope you don’t have too many children. You’re in good health, but too many can drain a woman, age her more quickly.”

Ayla got a strong impression that Zelandoni did not want her to know what she was thinking and quickly said something else because she wanted to keep from telling her. It was her right, Ayla thought. She could refrain from mentioning
what she was thinking if she chose, but it did make her wonder.

Twilight had settled by the time they approached the campfire, and it was already getting hard to see. When they arrived at the fire trench, people greeted them and offered them food. Ayla realized she was hungry; it had been a full and busy afternoon. Zelandoni ate with them and planned to sleep at the camp of the Ninth Cave that night, then immediately got into a discussion with Marthona and Joharran about the upcoming hunt and the Search the zelandonia would make. She mentioned that Ayla would be joining them, which they seemed to think was entirely appropriate, but it made Ayla feel uneasy. She did not want to become one of Those Who Served The Mother, but circumstances seemed to be pulling her in that direction and she wasn’t happy about it.

“We should get there early. I need to arrange to set up some targets and step off the distances,” Jondalar said as they walked out of the lodge the next morning. He was holding the cup of mint tea Ayla had made for him and began chewing on the end of the wintergreen twig she had recently peeled, to prepare it for him to clean his teeth.

“I want to check on Whinney and Racer first. I hardly saw them at all yesterday. Why don’t you go ahead and get things ready. I’ll keep Wolf with me and meet you later,” Ayla said.

“Don’t take too long. People will be gathering early, and I’d really like you to show them what you can do. It’s one thing for me to cast a spear a long way, but when they see that a woman, using the spear-thrower, can fling a spear farther than any of the men, that will make them interested,” Jondalar said.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, but I want to brush them down, and check Racer’s eye. It seemed red, like he got something in it. I may want to treat it,” Ayla said.

“Do you think he’s all right? Should I come with you?” he said, full of concern.

“It didn’t look that bad. I’m sure he’s fine. I just want to check it. You go on, I won’t be long,” she said.

Jondalar nodded as he scrubbed at his teeth, then swished out his mouth with the mint tea. He drank down the balance and smiled. “That always makes me feel better,” he said.

“It does make your mouth feel clean, and wakes you up,” Ayla said. She had made his tea and prepared his twig nearly every morning since shortly after she met him, and had begun to follow his morning ritual. “I noticed it especially when I was sick in the morning.”

“Are you still having morning sickness?” he asked.

“No, not anymore, but I do notice that my stomach is getting bigger,” she said.

He smiled. “I like your bigger stomach,” he said, then reached over and put an arm around her shoulders and the other hand on her belly. “I especially like what’s in it.”

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