The Land of Painted Caves

Chapter 10

The Matrimonial usually began in the afternoon or early evening to leave plenty of time for the festivities as it grew dark. The singing or reciting of the Mother's Song always ended the formal Mating Ceremony and signalled the beginning of the feasting and other celebratory activities.

Ayla and Jondalar stayed through the entire formal ceremony, and though she was feeling bored before it was over, she would never admit it. She had watched people coming and going throughout the afternoon, and realised that she was not the only one who grew tired of the long recitation of names and ties, and the repetition of ritual words, but she knew how important the ceremony was to each couple or multiple and to their immediate kin, and part of that was the acceptance by all the Zelandonii in attendance. Besides, all of the zelandonia were expected to remain until the end, and she was included among them now.

Ayla had counted eighteen individual ceremonies, when she saw the First gather them all together. She had been told there might be twenty or more, but some of them were not certain. There were any number of reasons why participation in the formal Mating Ceremonial might be postponed, especially the first one of the season, ranging from uncertainty if the couple was ready to make the commitment to an important relative being delayed. There was always the Matrimonial at the end of the season for final decisions, late arriving kin, arrangements not yet completed, or new summer liaisons.

Ayla smiled to herself when she heard the rich full tones of the First singing the opening verse of the Mother's Song:

Out of the darkness, the chaos of time,The whirlwind gave birth to the Mother sublime.She woke to Herself knowing life had great worth,The dark empty void grieved the Great Mother Earth.The Mother was lonely. She was the only.

Ayla had loved the Legend of the Mother the first time she heard it, but she particularly loved the way it was sung by the One Who Was First Among Those Who Served The Great Earth Mother. The rest of the Zelandonii joined in, some singing, some reciting. Those who played flutes added their harmonies, and the zelandonia chanted a fugue in counterpoint.

She could hear Jondalar, who was standing beside her, singing. He had a good true voice, though he didn't sing often, and when he did it was usually with the group. Ayla, on the other hand, couldn't carry a tune; she never learned how, and didn't seem to have a natural inclination for singing. The best she could do was a singsong monotone, but she had memorised the words and spoke them with deep feeling. She particularly identified with the part where the Great Earth Mother had a son, 'The Mother's great joy, a bright shining boy,' and lost him. Tears came to her eyes whenever she heard:

The Great Mother lived with the pain in Her heart,That She and Her son were forever apart.She ached for the child that had been denied,So She quickened once more from the life force inside.She was not reconciled. To the loss of Her child.

Then came the part where the Mother delivered all the animals, also Her children, and especially when she gave birth to First Woman and then First Man.

To Woman and Man the Mother gave birth,And then for their home, She gave them the Earth,The water, the land, and all Her creation.To use them with care was their obligation.It was their home to use, But not to abuse. For the Children of Earth the Mother provided,The Gifts to survive, and then She decided,To give them the Gift of Pleasure and sharing,That honours the Mother with the joy of their pairing.The Gifts are well earned, When honour's returned. The Mother was pleased with the pair she created,She taught them to love and to care when they mated.She made them desire to join with each other,The Gift of their Pleasures came from the Mother.Before She was through, Her children loved too.Earth's Children were blessed. The Mother could rest.

That was the part everyone was waiting for. It meant the formalities were over, it was time for feasting and other festivities.

People started milling around waiting for the feast to be set out. Jonayla, who had been sleeping contentedly while Ayla was sitting quietly, started to squirm around when they all joined in on the Mother's Song. She woke up when her mother got up and started moving. Ayla took her out of her carrying blanket and held her out over the ground, where she let go of her water. She had learned quickly that the sooner she went, the sooner she'd be out of the cold and held close to a warm body again.

'Let me take her,' Jondalar said, reaching for the child. Jonayla smiled at the man, which elicited a smile in return.

'Wrap her in this blanket,' Ayla said, handing him the soft hide of a red deer that she was using to carry her. 'It's getting chilly, and she's still warm from sleep.'

Ayla and Jondalar walked toward the camp of the Third Cave. They had enlarged their space to include room for their neighbouring Cave in the main Summer Meeting area. The Ninth put up a couple of shelters for their own use especially during the day, but they still referred to it as the camp of the Third Cave. They also tended to share meals and join together for feasts, but Matrimonial Feasts were always prepared and shared by the entire group.

They joined the rest of Jondalar's family and friends who were bringing food to the large meeting area of the Summer Camp near the zelandonia lodge. Proleva, as usual, organised the entire affair, assigning tasks and delegating individuals to be responsible for various jobs. People were coming from all directions bringing the components of the great feast. Each Camp had developed their own variations on the standard ways of cooking the substantial quantity and diversity of foods that were available in the region.

The abundant grasslands and gallery forests along rivers provided rich feed for the many varieties of large grazing or browsing animals, including aurochs, bison, horse, mammoth, woolly rhinoceros, megaceros, reindeer, red deer, and several other types of deer. Some animals that in later times retreated to mountains spent certain seasons on the cold plains, like the wild goat known as ibex, the wild sheep called mouflon, and a goat-antelope referred to as chamois. A sheep-antelope named saiga lived on the steppes all year. In the coldest part of winter musk-oxen also appeared. There were also small animals, usually caught in traps, and fowl, often brought down with stones or throwing sticks, including Ayla's favourite, ptarmigan.

A wide selection of vegetables was available, including roots such as wild carrots, cattail rhizomes, flavourful onions, spicy little pignuts, and several different kinds of starchy biscuit roots and ground nuts that were collected with digging sticks, then eaten raw, cooked, or dried. Thistle stems, held up by the flower head so the sharp thorns could be scraped off before cutting, were delicious when lightly cooked; burdock stems required no special handling but needed to be picked young. The green leaves of lamb's quarter made a wonderful wild spinach; stinging nettles were even better, but had to be picked with a large leaf from another plant to protect the hand from the stinging, which disappeared when they were cooked.

Nuts and fruits, especially berries, were also in abundance, and an assortment of teas was provided. The steeping of leaves, stems, and flowers in hot water, or just letting them sit out in the sun for a while, was usually enough to make an infusion with the desired flavours and characteristics. But steeping was not a sufficiently rigorous process to extract the flavours and natural constituents from hard organic substances; barks, seeds and roots usually required boiling to make the proper decoctions.

Other beverages were available, like fruit juices, including fermented varieties. Tree saps, particularly birch, could be boiled down to bring out the sugar and then fermented. Grains and, of course, honey could also be made into an alcoholic drink. Marthona provided a limited quantity of her fruit wine, Laramar some of his barma, and several others had brought their own varieties of drinks with variable alcoholic content. Most people brought their own eating utensils and bowls, although a supply of wood or bone platters, and carved or tightly woven bowls and cups were offered for those who wanted to use them.

Ayla and Jondalar walked around greeting friends and sampling the foods and drinks offered by different Caves. Jonayla was often the centre of attention. Some people were curious to see if the foreigner who had grown up with Flatheads, whom some still considered animals, had given birth to a normal child. Friends and relatives were just pleased to see that she was a happy, healthy, and very pretty little girl, with fine, almost white, soft curly hair. Everyone also knew immediately that it was Jondalar's spirit that the Great Mother had selected to mix with Ayla's to create her daughter; Jonayla had the same extraordinarily vivid blue eyes.

They passed by a group of people who had set up camp on the edge of the large communal area, and Ayla thought she recognised some of them. 'Jondalar, aren't those people Travelling Storytellers?' she asked. 'I didn't know they were coming to our Summer Meeting.'

'I didn't know either. Let's go and greet them.' They hurried to the camp. 'Galliadal, how nice to see you,' Jondalar called out as they neared.

A man turned around and smiled. 'Jondalar! Ayla!' he said, approaching them with both hands stretched out to them.

He clasped Jondalar's hands. 'In the name of the Great Earth Mother, I greet you,' Galliadal said.

The man was nearly as tall as Jondalar, somewhat older, and nearly as dark as the Zelandoni man was light. Jondalar's hair was light yellow, Galliadal's was dark brown but with lighter streaks, and thinning on top. His blue eyes were not as striking as Jondalar's, but the contrast to his darker skin colouring made them intriguingly noticeable. His skin is not brown like Ranec's, Ayla thought. It's more like he has been out in the sun a lot, but I don't think it fades much in winter.

'In the name of Doni, you are welcome to our Summer Meeting, Galliadal, and welcome to the rest of your Travelling Cave,' Jondalar replied. 'I didn't know you had come. How long have you been here?'

'We arrived before noon, but we shared a meal with the Second Cave before we set up camp. The leader's mate is a far cousin of mine. I didn't even know she had two-born-together.'

'You're related to Beladora? Kimeran and I are age-mates; we went through our manhood rites together,' Jondalar explained. 'I was the tallest one there and felt out of place, until Kimeran came. I was so glad to see him.'

'I understand how you felt, and you are even taller than me.' Galliadal turned his attention to Ayla. 'Greeting to you,' he said, grasping her outstretched hands.

'In the name of the Great Mother of all, welcome,' Ayla replied.

'And who is this pretty little thing?' the visitor said, smiling at the baby.

'This is Jonayla,' Ayla said.

'Jon-Ayla! Your daughter, with his eyes, that's a good name,' Galliadal said. 'I hope you are coming tonight. I have a special story for you.'

'For me?' Ayla said with surprise.

'Yes. It's about a woman who has a special way with animals. It's been very well liked everywhere we've been,' Galliadal said with a big grin.

'Do you know someone who understands animals? I'd like to meet her,' Ayla said.

'You already know her.'

'But, the only person I know like that is me,' Ayla said, then blushed when she understood.

'Of course! I couldn't pass up such a good story, but I don't give her your name, and I changed some other things. Many people ask if the story is about you, but I never tell them. It makes it more interesting. I'll be telling it when we get a good crowd. Come and listen.'

'Oh, we will,' Jondalar said. He had been watching Ayla and from her expression, he didn't think she was particularly happy about the idea of a Storyteller making up stories about her and telling them to all the Caves. He knew many people who would love the attention, but he didn't think that she would. She already got more attention than she wanted, but he couldn't blame Galliadal. He was a storyteller and Ayla's story was a good one.

'It's about you, too, Jondalar. I couldn't leave you out,' the Storyteller said, with a wink. 'You're the one who was gone on a Journey for five years and brought her back with you.'

Jondalar winced to himself to hear that; it wasn't the first time that stories had been told about him, and they weren't always ones he wanted to have spread around. But it was best not to complain or make anything out of it; that would just add to the story. Storytellers loved to tell stories about individuals who were known, and people loved to hear them. Sometimes they used real names and other times, especially if they wanted to embellish the story, they would make up a name so people would have to guess who the story was about. Jondalar grew up hearing such stories, and he loved them, too, but he loved the Elder Legends and Histories of the Zelandonii better. He'd heard many stories about his mother when she was leader of the Ninth Cave, and the story about the great love of Marthona and Dalanar had been told so many times, it was almost legend.

Ayla and Jondalar chatted with him a while, then wandered toward the camp of the Third Cave, stopping along the way to talk with various people they knew. As the evening deepened, it grew quite dark. Ayla stopped for a moment to look up. The moon was new, and without its glowing light to moderate their brilliance, the stars filled the night sky with an awe-inspiring profusion.

'The sky is so … full … I don't know the right word,' Ayla said, feeling a touch of impatience with herself. 'It is beautiful, but more than that. It makes me feel small, but in a way that makes me feel good. It is greater than us, greater than everything.'

'When the stars are bright like that, it is a wondrous sight,' Jondalar said.

While the bright stars did not bestow as much radiance as the moon would have, they did provide almost enough illumination to see their way. But the multitude of stars was not the only light. Every camp had great bonfires, and torches and lamps had been placed along paths between camps.

When they reached the camp of the Third Cave, Proleva was there with her sister, Levela, and their mother, Velima. They all greeted each other.

'I can't believe how much Jonayla has grown in just a few moons,' Levela said. 'And she's so beautiful. She has Jondalar's eyes. But she looks like you.'

Ayla smiled at the compliment to her baby, but deflected the one directed at her. 'I think she looks like Marthona, not me. I'm not beautiful.'

'You don't know what you look like, Ayla,' Jondalar said. 'You never look at a polished reflector, or even a pool of still water. You are beautiful.'

Ayla changed the subject. 'You are really showing now, Levela,' Ayla said. 'How are you feeling?'

'Once I got over feeling sick in the morning, I've been feeling good,' Levela said. 'Vigorous and strong. Although, lately, I get tired easily. I want to sleep late and take naps in the day, and sometimes if I stand for a long time, my back hurts.'

'Sounds about right, wouldn't you say,' Velima said, smiling at her daughter. 'Just the way you are supposed to feel.'

'We're setting up an area to take care of children so their mothers and mates can go to the Mother Festival and relax,' Proleva said. 'You can leave Jonayla, if you want. There will be singing and dancing, and some people had already drunk too much before I left.'

'Did you know the Travelling Storytellers are here?' Jondalar asked.

'I heard they were supposed to come, but I didn't know they had arrived,' Proleva said.

'We talked to Galliadal. He said he wanted us to come and listen. He said he has a story for Ayla,' Jondalar said. 'I think it's a thinly disguised story about her. We should probably go and listen so we'll know what people will be talking about tomorrow.'

'Are you going, Proleva?' Ayla asked as the woman was putting down her sleeping baby.

'It was a big feast, and I've been working on it for many days,' Proleva said. 'I think I'd rather stay here and watch the little ones with just a few women. It would be more restful. I've been to my share of Mother Festivals.'

'Maybe I should stay and watch the children, too,' Ayla said.

'No. You should go. Mother Festivals are still new to you, and you need to become familiar with them, especially if you are learning to be a Zelandoni. Here, give me that little one of yours. I haven't cuddled her for days,' Proleva said.

'Let me nurse her first,' Ayla said. 'I'm feeling rather full anyway.'

'Levela, you should go, too, especially since the Storytellers are here. You too, mother,' Proleva said.

'The Storytellers will be here for many days. I can see them later, and I've been to my share of Mother Festivals, too. You've been so busy, we haven't had much time to visit. I'd rather stay here with you,' Velima said. 'But you should go, Levela.'

'I'm not sure. Jondecam is already there, and I told him I'd meet him, but I am tired already. Maybe I'll just go for a while, to hear the Storytellers,' she said.

'Joharran is there, too. He almost has to be, just to keep an eye on some of the young men. I hope he takes some time to enjoy himself. Tell him about the Storytellers, Jondalar. He always enjoys them.'

'I will if I can find him,' Jondalar said.

He wondered if Proleva was staying away to give her mate the freedom to enjoy the Mother Festival. Although everyone knew they could take partners other than their mates, he knew that some people didn't necessarily want to watch their own mate couple with someone else. He knew he didn't. It would be very hard for him to see Ayla go off with some other man. Several men had already shown an interest in her, the Zelandoni of the Twenty-sixth, for example, and even the Storyteller, Galliadal. He knew that such jealousy was frowned on, but he couldn't help how he felt. He just hoped he would be able to hide it.

When they returned to the large gathering area, Levela quickly spied Jondecam and hurried ahead, but Ayla stopped at the edge just to watch for a while. Almost all the people who were attending the Summer Meeting at this location had already arrived and she was still not entirely comfortable with so many people in one place, especially in the beginning. Jondalar understood and waited with her.

At first glance the large space seemed filled with a vast amorphous throng surging in an eddying mass, like a great roiling river. But as she watched, Ayla began to see that the crowd had formed itself into several groups, generally around or near a large fire. In one area near the edge, close to the Storytellers' camp, many people were gathered around three or four people talking with exaggerated gestures, who were standing on a platform-like construction made of wood and hard rawhide that raised them somewhat above the crowd so they could be seen more easily. Those nearest to the platform were sitting on the ground or on logs or rocks that had been dragged closer. Almost directly opposite, across the gathering area, other people were dancing and singing to the sound of flutes, drums, and other percussion musical instruments. Ayla felt drawn to both and was trying to decide where to go first.

In another area people were gambling, using various tokens and gaming pieces, and in a nearby area, people were getting refills of their favourite beverages. She noticed Laramar doling out portions of his barma, with a false smile.

'Garnering favours,' Jondalar said, almost as though he knew what she was thinking. She wasn't aware of the look of distaste that had appeared on her face when she saw the man.

Ayla saw that Tremeda was among those who were standing around waiting for more of his barma, but Laramar wasn't offering any to her. She turned toward the nearby group who were picking at what was left of the food, which had been gathered together and offered for whoever wanted more.

Throughout the entire space, people stood together talking and laughing, or drifting from one place to another for no apparent reason. Ayla didn't immediately notice the undercurrent of activity around the darker edges of the crowd. Then she happened to catch sight of a young woman with bright red hair whom she recognised as Folara's friend, Galeya. She was walking away from the eating area with the young man from the Third Cave, who had joined the lion hunt, Ayla recalled. They had chosen to partner together to watch out for each other.

Ayla watched the young couple as they headed for the darkened periphery of the gathering and saw when they paused to embrace. She felt a moment of embarrassment; she hadn't meant to observe them when they were being intimate. Then she saw that there were others in certain areas away from the main activities who also appeared to be closely involved with each other. Ayla felt herself flush.

Jondalar smiled to himself. He had seen where she was looking. The Zelandonii tended not to stare at such activity either. It wasn't so much a matter of embarrassment; intimacy was commonplace and they just ignored it. He had travelled far and was aware that people's customs could be different, but she had too; he knew that she had seen people together before — they lived in such close quarters it couldn't be avoided. She must have seen similar activity at the Summer Meeting the year before. He wasn't quite sure what was causing her discomfort. He was going to ask, but then he saw Levela and Jondecam returning and decided to wait until later.

Her discomfiture stemmed from her early years when she had lived with the Clan. It had been strongly stressed to her that some things, even though they could be observed, were not supposed to be seen. The stones that outlined each hearth in the cave of Brun's clan were like invisible walls. One did not see past the boundary stones, did not look into the private areas of another man's hearth. People averted their eyes, or assumed the far-off look of gazing into space, anything to avoid seeming to stare into the area enclosed by the stones. And as a rule they were careful not to stare inadvertently. Staring was part of the body sign language of the Clan, and had specific meanings. An intense look from a leader, for example, could be a reprimand.

When she realised what she had seen, Ayla had quickly looked in another direction, and saw Levela and Jondecam approaching. She felt an odd sense of relief. She touched cheeks and greeted them affectionately, as though she hadn't seen them for a while.

'We're going to watch the Storytellers,' Levela said.

'I was just trying to decide if I wanted to listen to stories or music,' Ayla said. 'If you are going to watch the Storytellers, maybe I'll go with you.'

'So will I,' Jondalar said.

When they arrived at the place, there seemed to be a break in the performance. A narrative had apparently just been concluded and a new one hadn't yet begun. People were milling around; some were leaving, some were arriving, some changing positions. Ayla looked over the area to get a sense of the place. The low platform, though empty now, was big enough to hold three or four people with room to move about. There were two somewhat rectangular fire trenches not directly in front of the platform, but on either side, for light rather than heat. In between and on either side of the fires were several logs arranged somewhat haphazardly in rows and a few good-sized stones, all of them covered with stuffed pads for easier sitting. There was an open space in front of the logs where people were sitting on the ground, many on some kind of ground covering, like woven grass floor mats or hides.

Several people, who had been sitting on a log near the front, stood up and walked away. Levela headed purposefully in that direction and sat down on the soft pad that covered the tree trunk. Jondecam quickly sat beside her; then they claimed space beside them for their friends who had been delayed by someone who greeted them along the way. While they were exchanging pleasantries, Galliadal approached.

'You did decide to come,' he said, bending down to greet Ayla, touching his cheek to hers and, Jondalar thought, holding it there too long. Ayla felt Galliadal's warm breath on her neck and noticed his pleasant manly smell, different from the one she was most familiar with. She also noticed the tension in Jondalar's jaw, in spite of his smile.

Several people were crowding around them and Ayla thought they probably wanted the Storyteller's attention. She had noticed that many people liked to flock around Galliadal, especially young women, and some were looking at her with a kind of expectancy, as though they were waiting for something. She didn't think she liked it.

'Levela and Jondecam are holding places in front for us,' Jondalar said. 'We should go and claim them.'

She smiled at Jondalar, and they went to join their friends, but when they arrived, some other people were also sitting on the log, taking some of the space Levela and Jondecam had been holding. They all crowded together, then waited.

'I wonder what's taking so long,' Jondecam said, getting a bit impatient.

Jondalar noticed that more people were arriving. 'I think they are waiting to see how many are coming. You know how it is: once they start, Storytellers don't like to have a lot of people moving around; it disrupts the telling. They don't mind a few slipping in quietly, but most people don't like to come in the middle of a story either. They'd rather hear it from the beginning. I think a lot of people were waiting until they were done with the story they were on. When they saw people moving away, they decided that was the time to come.'

Galliadal and several other people had stepped up to the low platform. They waited until people noticed them. When everyone stopped talking and it became quiet, the tall dark-haired man began.

'Far away in the land of the dawning sun …'

'That's the way all stories start,' Jondalar whispered to Ayla, as though he was pleased that it had begun right.

'… there lived a woman and her mate and her three children. The eldest was a boy named Kimacal.' When the Storyteller mentioned the first of the woman's offspring, a young man who was also on the platform stepped forward and made a slight bow, implying that he was the one referred to. 'The next one was a girl named Karella.' A young woman did a pirouette that ended in a bow when he mentioned the second child. 'The youngest one was a boy named Wolafon.' Another young man pointed to himself and grinned proudly when the third child was announced.

There was a slight murmur in the audience, and a few chuckles when the name of the youngest child was mentioned as people perceived a connection with Ayla's name for her four-legged hunter.

Although he wasn't shouting, Ayla noticed that the Storyteller's voice could be heard very well by the entire audience. He had a special way of speaking that was powerful, clear, and expressive. It made her think of her visit to the cave with the Zelandoni of the Twenty-sixth and his acolyte and the sounds the three of them had made in front of the cave before crawling in. It occurred to her that Galliadal could have become one of the zelandonia, if he wished.

'Though they were old enough, none of the young people were mated yet. Their Cave was small and they were closely related to most of the people near their age. The mother was beginning to worry that they would have to go far away to find mates, and she might not see them again. She had heard of an old Zelandoni who lived alone in a cave some distance up the river to the north. Some people talked in whispers about her, saying she could make things happen, but she might exact a payment that would be hard to make. The mother decided to go and find her,' the Storyteller said.

'One day after she returned, the woman sent her children out to the edge of a stream to collect cattail roots. When they arrived they met three other young people, a girl about the age of Kimacal, a boy about the age of Karella, and a girl about the age of Wolafon.'

This time the first young man on the platform smiled coquettishly when the older girl was mentioned, the young woman took a bravado stance, and the other young man assumed the posture of a shy young girl. There was laughter from the audience. When Ayla and Jondalar looked at each other, both were smiling.

'The three newcomers were strangers who had recently arrived from the land to the south. As all of them had been taught was appropriate, they greeted each other and introduced themselves, reciting their important names and ties.'

' "We have come looking for food," the eldest visitor explained.' Galliadal changed the timbre of his voice when he spoke as the young woman.

' "There are many cattails here; we can share them," Karella said.' The young woman mouthed the words Galliadal spoke, again changing his tone. 'They all started pulling cattail roots out of the soft mud by the edge of the stream, Kimacal helping the older foreign girl, Karella showing the middle boy where to dig, and Wolafon pulling out some roots for the shy younger girl, but the fair young woman wouldn't accept them. Wolafon could see that his brother and sister were enjoying the company of their pleasurable new friends, becoming very friendly.'

The laughter was now quite loud. Not only were the innuendos obvious, the young man portraying the older brother and the young woman on the platform were in an exaggerated embrace, while the younger brother looked on with envy. When Galliadal narrated, he changed his voice for each character as he spoke for them, while the others on the raised platform demonstrated, often very dramatically.

' "These are good cattails. Why won't you eat them?" Wolafon asked the appealing stranger, "I cannot eat cattails," the young woman said. "I can only eat meat." ' When he spoke as the woman, he pitched his voice quite high.

'Wolafon didn't know what to do. "Maybe I can hunt for some meat for you," he said, but he knew he wasn't a very good hunter. He usually went along on game drives. He meant well, but he was a little lazy and never tried very hard to hunt himself. He went back to the home of his mother's Cave.

' "Kimacal and Karella shared cattails with a woman and man from the south," he told his mother. "They have found mates, but the woman I want can't eat cattails. She can only eat meat, and I'm not a very good hunter. How can I find food for her?" ' Galliadal related.

Ayla wondered if 'sharing cattails' had some second meaning that she wasn't familiar with, like a joke she didn't understand, since the Storyteller went from eating cattails together to being mated in the next breath.

' "There is an old Zelandoni who lives alone in a cave north of here near the river," his mother said. "She may be able to help you. But be careful what you ask for. You may get exactly what you want." ' Galliadal again changed the timbre of his voice when he spoke as the mother.

'Wolafon set out to find the old Zelandoni. He travelled upriver for many days, looking into all the caves he happened to see along the way. He was almost ready to give up, but he saw a small cave high up in a cliff and decided that would be the last cave he would investigate. He found an old woman sitting in front of it, who seemed to be sleeping. He approached quietly, not wanting to disturb her, but he was curious and looked at her carefully,' Galliadal continued.

'Her clothes were nondescript, the same kind of thing most people wore, though rather shapeless and shabby. But she wore many necklaces made of a variety of materials: beads and shells; several pierced animal teeth and claws; animals carved out of ivory, bone, antler, and wood, some of stone and amber; and disc-shaped medallions with animals carved on them. There were so many objects on the necklaces, Wolafon couldn't even see them all, but even more impressive were her facial tattoos. They were so intricate and embellished, he could hardly see her skin under all the squares, swirls, curlicues, and flourishes. She was without doubt a Zelandoni of great stature and Wolafon was a little fearful of her. He didn't know if he should bother her with his little request.'

The woman on the platform had seated herself and although she hadn't changed clothes, the way she wrapped them around herself gave the impression of an old woman in the shapeless clothing Galliadal had described.

'Wolafon decided to leave, but as he turned to go, he heard a voice, "What do you want from me, boy?" she said.' Galliadal's voice took on the sound of an older woman, not thin and quavery, but powerful and mature.

'Wolafon gulped, then turned around. He introduced himself properly, then said, "My mother told me you might be able to help me." '

' "What is your problem?" '

' "I met a woman, who came from the south. I wanted to share cattails with her, but she said she couldn't eat cattails, she could only eat meat. I love her and I would hunt for her but I am not a very good hunter. Can you help me to become a good hunter?" '

' "Are you sure she wants you to hunt for her?" the old Zelandoni asked. "If she doesn't want your cattails, it may be that she won't want your meat, either. Did you ask her?" '

' "When I offered her the cattails, she said she couldn't eat them, not that she didn't want to, and when I told her I would hunt for her, she didn't say no," Wolafon said.' The voice Galliadal used for the young man sounded hopeful, and the expression of the young man on the platform mimicked the tone.

' "You know that all it takes to become good hunter is practice, lots of practice," the old Zelandoni told him.

' "Yes, I know. I should have practised more." ' The young man on the platform looked down, as though contrite.

' "But you didn't practise, did you? Now, because a young woman interests you, you want to suddenly become a hunter, is that right?" ' Galliadal's tone as the old Zelandoni became a reprimand.

' "I suppose so." The young man looked even more ashamed. "But I adore her." '

' "You must always earn whatever you get. If you don't want to make the effort to practise, you must pay for the skill some other way. You give your effort to practise, or you give something else. What are you willing to give?" the old woman asked.

' "I'll give anything!" ' The audience gasped, knowing it was the wrong thing to say.

' "You could still take the time to practise and learn how to hunt," the old Zelandoni said.

' "But she won't want to wait until I learn how to hunt well. I adore her. I just want to bring her meat so she will love me. I wish I was born knowing how to hunt." '

Suddenly the audience and the ones on the raised platform detected a commotion in their midst.