The Shelters of Stone

Chapter 8

Ayla slept late. When she sat up and looked around, Jondalar was gone, and Wolf, too. She was alone in the dwelling, but someone had left a full waterbag and a closely woven, watertight basin so she could freshen herself. A carved wooden cup nearby held a liquid. It smelled like mint tea, cold, but she was in no mood to drink anything at the moment.

She got up to use the large basket that was beside the door to relieve herself – she definitely noticed an increased frequency of need. Then she grabbed her amulet and quickly pulled it off to get it out of the way before she used the basin, not to wash herself, but to hold the results of her queasy stomach. Her nausea seemed worse than usual this morning. Laramar's barma, she thought. Morning-after sickness along with morning sickness. I think I'll forgo the drink from now on. It's probably not good for me right now anyway, or the baby.

When she had emptied her stomach, she used the mint tea to rinse out her mouth. She noticed that someone had placed the bundle of clean but stained clothes she had originally planned to wear the night before near her sleeping furs. As she put them on, she recalled leaving them just inside the entrance. She did intend to keep the outfit Marona had given her, partly because she was determined to wear the clothing again on principle, but also because it was comfortable and she really couldn't see anything wrong with wearing it. Not today, though.

She tied on the sturdy waist thong that she had worn while traveling, adjusted the knife sheath into its comfortably familiar place and arranged the rest of the dangling implements and pouches, and slipped her amulet bag back over her head. She picked up the smelly basin and carried it out with her, but she left it near the entrance, not quite sure where to dispose of its contents, and went to look for someone to ask. A woman with a child, who was approaching the dwelling, greeted her. From somewhere in the depths of her memory, Ayla came up with a name.

"Pleasant day to you… Ramara. Is this your son?"

"Yes. Robenan wants to play with Jaradal, and I was looking for Proleva. She wasn't at home, and I wondered if they were here."

"No one is in the dwelling. When I got up, everyone was gone. I don't know where they are. I'm feeling very lazy this morning. I slept rather late," Ayla said.

"Most people did," Ramara said. "Not many people felt like getting up early after the celebration last night. Laramar makes a potent drink. It's what he's known for – the only thing he's known for."

Ayla detected a tone of disdain in the woman's comments. It made her feel a little hesitation about asking Ramara where there was an appropriate place to dispose of her morning mess, but there was no one else nearby, and she didn't want to leave it.

"Ramara… I wonder if I could ask you, where can I… get rid of some… waste?"

The woman looked puzzled for a moment, then glanced in the direction that Ayla had inadvertently looked, and smiled. "You want the toilet trenches, I think. See over there, toward the eastern edge of the terrace, not out front where the signal fires are lit, but toward the back. There's a path."

"Yes, I see it," Ayla said.

"It goes uphill," Ramara continued. "Follow that a little way and you will come to a split. The left trail is steeper. It continues up and will take you to the top of this cliff. But take the right path. It curves up around the side until you can see Wood River below. A little beyond is a level open field with several trenches – you'll smell it before you get there," Ramara said. "It has been a while since we dusted it, and you can tell."

Ayla shook her head. "Dusted it?"

"Sprinkled it with cooked cliff dust. We do it all the time, but I don't suppose all people do," Ramara said, bending over and picking up Robenan, who was getting restless.

"How do you cook cliff dust? And why?" Ayla asked.

"How you do it is to start with cliff rock, pound it into dust, and heat it in a hot fire – we use the signal fire hearth – then strew it in the trenches. Why is because it takes away a lot of the smell, or covers it up. But when you pass water or add liquid, the dust tends to get hard again, and when the trenches fill up with waste and hardened rock dust, you have to dig new ones, which is a lot of work. So we don't like to dust them too often. But they need it now. We have a big Cave, and the trenches get used a lot. Just follow the path. You shouldn't have any trouble locating them."

"I'm sure I'll find them. Thank you, Ramara," Ayla said as the woman left.

She started to pick up the bowl, had another thought, and ducked inside to get the waterbag so she could rinse out the woven basin. Then she picked up the smelly thing and started for the path. Gathering and storing food for such a large Cave of people is a lot of work, she thought as she headed along the trail, but so is taking care of the waste. Brun's clan just went outside, the women in one place, the men in another, and they changed their places every so often. Ayla thought about the process Ramara had explained and was intrigued.

The heating, or calcining, of limestone to get quicklime and using it to decrease the smell of waste products was not a practice she was familiar with, but for people who lived in limestone cliffs and used fire continuously, quicklime was a natural by-product. After cleaning a hearth of ashes, which would invariably include the accidentally accumulated lime, and dumping them on a pile of other waste materials, it wouldn't take long for the deodorizing effect to be noticed.

With so many people living in one place, more or less permanently except during the summer when various groups of them were gone for periods of time, there were many tasks that required the effort and cooperation of the entire community, such as digging toilet trenches or, as she had just learned, roasting the limestone cliff rocks to make quicklime.

The sun was near its zenith before Ayla returned from the trench field. She found a sunny place near the back path to dry and air out the woven bowl, then decided to check on the horses and refill the waterbag at the same time. Several people greeted her when she reached the front terrace, some of whose names she recalled, but not all. She smiled and nodded in return, but felt a trifle embarrassed about those she couldn't remember. She took it as a failure of memory on her part and made a decision to learn who everyone was as soon as possible.

She remembered feeling the same way when members of Brun's clan let it be known that they thought she was somewhat slow because she couldn't remember as well as Clan youngsters. As a result, because she wanted to fit in with the people who had found and adopted her, she disciplined herself to remember what she was taught the first time it was explained. She didn't know that in the process of exercising her native intelligence to retain what she learned, she was training her own memorizing ability far beyond that which was normal for her own kind.

As time went on, she grew to understand that their memory worked differently from hers. Though she didn't fully understand what they were, she knew that people of the Clan had "memories" that she did not have, not in the same way. In a form of instinct that had evolved along a somewhat divergent track, the people of the Clan were born with most of the knowledge they would need to survive, information that over time had been assimilated into the genes of their individual ancestors in the same way that instinctive knowledge was acquired by any animal, including the human one.

Rather than having to learn and memorize, as Ayla did, Clan children only had to be "reminded" once in order to trigger their inherent racial memories. The people of the Clan knew a great deal about their ancient world and how to live in it, and once they learned something new, they never forgot; but unlike Ayla and her kind, they did not learn new things easily. Change was hard for them, but when the Others arrived in their land, they brought change with them.

Whinney and Racer were not where she had left them in the horse meadow, but were grazing farther up the valley, away from the more well-used area that was close to the confluence of Wood River with The River. When Whinney saw her, the mare dropped her head, flipped it up, and described a circle in the air with her nose. Then she arched her neck, lowered her head, and, with tail outstretched, ran toward the woman, eagerly happy to see her. Racer pranced alongside his dam with his neck proudly arched, ears forward and tail up, high-stepping toward her in a smooth-striding canter.

They nickered greetings. Ayla responded in kind and smiled. "What are you two so happy about?" she said, using Clan signs and the language of words she had invented for herself in her valley. It was the way she had talked to Whinney from the beginning, and the way she still talked to the horses. She knew they didn't entirely understand her, but they did recognize some of the words and certain of the signals, as well as the tone of voice that conveyed her delight in seeing them.

"You certainly are full of yourselves today. Do you know we've reached the end of our Journey and won't be traveling anymore?" she continued. "Do you like this place? I hope so." She reached out to scratch the mare in the places she liked, and then the stallion, then she felt around Whinney's sides and belly, trying to determine if she was carrying a foal after her tryst with the stallion.

"It's too early to tell for sure, but I think you are going to have a baby, too, Whinney. Even I don't show that much yet and I've already missed my second moon time." She examined herself the same way she had checked out the mare, thinking, my waist is thicker, my belly is rounder, my breasts are sore and a little bigger. "And I get sick in the morning," she continued saying and signing, "but only a little when I first get up, not like before, when I was sick all the time. I don't think there's any doubt that I'm pregnant, but I'm feeling good right now. Good enough to go for a ride. How would you like a little exercise, Whinney?"

The horse flipped up her head again, as if in reply.

I wonder where Jondalar is? I think I'll look for him and see if he wants to ride, she said to herself. I'll get the riding blanket, too, it is more comfortable, but bareback for now.

With a practiced, fluid movement, she grabbed the end of Whinney's short, stand-up mane and leapt onto her back, then headed toward the abri. She directed the horse with the tension of her leg muscles, without thinking about it – after so long, it was second nature – but she let the mare go at her own pace and just rode. She heard Racer following behind, as he was accustomed to doing.

I wonder how long I'll be able to jump on like that? I'll need to step up on something to reach her back when I get big, Ayla thought, then she almost hugged herself with pleasure at the idea that she was going to have a baby. Her thoughts strayed back to the long Journey they had just completed, and to the day before. She had met so many people, it was hard to remember them all, but Jondalar was right: most people were not bad. I shouldn't let the few who are unpleasant – Marona, and Brukeval when he behaved like Broud – spoil good feelings toward the rest. I wonder why it's easier to remember the bad ones. Maybe because there aren't many.

The day was warm; the hot sun warmed even the steady wind. As Ayla neared a small tributary, not much more than a trickle, but quick and sparkling, she looked upstream and saw a little waterfall coming down the rock face. She felt thirsty and, remembering that she had wanted to fill the waterbag, turned toward the water glinting down the side of the cliff.

She got off her horse, and they all took a drink from the pool at the bottom of the falls, Ayla from cupped hands, then she filled the waterbag with the cold, fresh liquid. She sat there a while, feeling refreshed and still a bit indolent, picking up small pebbles and idly tossing them into the water. Her eyes scanned the unfamiliar terrain, unconsciously noting details. She picked up another stone, rolled it in her hand, feeling the texture, looking at it but not seeing it, then tossed it.

It took a while for the character of the stone to penetrate her consciousness. Then she scrambled around to find it again, and when she picked it up – or one like it – she looked at it more carefully. It was a small, grayish-gold nodule, with the sharp angles and flat sides of its inherent crystal structure. Suddenly she reached for the flint knife she carried in the sheath on her belt and struck the stone with the back of it. Sparks flew! She struck it again.

"This is a firestone!" she shouted aloud.

She hadn't seen any since she left her valley. She looked closely at the stones and pebbles on the ground in and near the streambed, and spied another piece of iron pyrite, and then another. She picked up several as her excitement grew.

She sat back on her heels, looking at her small pile of similar stones. There are firestones here! Now we won't have to be so careful with the ones we have, we can get more. She could hardly wait to show Jondalar.

She gathered them up and a few more that she noticed, then whistled for Whinney, who had strayed off toward a patch of succulent green. But just before she made ready to mount, she saw Jondalar striding in their direction, Wolf at his side.

"Jondalar!" she called out, running toward him. "Look what I found!" she said, holding out several of the pieces of iron pyrite as she ran. "Firestones! There are firestones around here. They're all over this stream!"

He hurried toward her, beaming a great smile, as much in response to her exuberant delight as for the remarkable find. "I didn't know they were so close, but then I never much paid attention to this kind of stone, I was always looking for flint. Show me where you found them."

She took him to the little pool at the foot of the waterfall, then trained her eyes on the rocks of the streambed and along the sides of the diminutive waterway. "Look!" she said triumphantly. "There's another one," pointing at a stone on the bank.

Jondalar knelt down and picked it up. "You're right! This will make a difference, Ayla. It could mean firestones for everybody. If they are here, there may be other places nearby that have them, too. No one even knows about them yet, I haven't had a chance to tell anyone."

"Folara knows, and Zelandoni," Ayla said.

"How do they know?"

"Remember the calming tea Zelandoni made for Willamar when you told him about your brother? I made Folara nervous when I used a firestone to start the fire that had gone out, so I promised her I'd show her how they worked. She told Zelandoni," Ayla said.

"So Zelandoni knows. Somehow she always ends up knowing about things first," Jondalar said. "But we'll have to come back and look for more, later. Right now, some people want to talk to you."

"About the Clan?" she guessed.

"Joharran came and got me this morning for a meeting, before I really wanted to get up, but I made him let you sleep. I've been talking about our meeting with Cuban and Yorga. They're very interested, but it's hard for them to believe the Clan are people and not animals. Zelandoni has been analyzing some of the Elder Legends more closely – she's the one who knows about the history of the Zelandonii – trying to see if there are any hints about flatheads… the Clan… living around here before the Zelandonii. When Ramara said you were up, Joharran wanted me to get you," Jondalar said. "He's not the only one with a lot of questions."

Jondalar had brought Racer's rope halter with him, but the frisky young stallion balked a bit, still feeling playful. With some patience, and scratching of itchy places, the horse finally acquiesced. The man mounted and they started back through the open woodlands of the small valley.

Jondalar pulled up to ride beside Ayla and, after some hesitation, remarked, "Ramara said when she talked to you this morning, that she thought you were sick, perhaps not used to Laramar's barma. How are you feeling?"

It's going to be hard to keep secrets around here, Ayla thought. "I'm fine, Jondalar," she said.

"He does make a strong brew. You weren't feeling too well last night."

"I was tired last night," Ayla said. "And this morning, it was just a little sickness, because I'm going to have a baby." From his expression, she suspected he was concerned about more than her morning sickness.

"It was a full day. You met a lot of people."

"And I liked most of them," she said, looking at him with a little grin. "I'm just not used to so many at one time. It's like a whole Clan Gathering. I can't even remember everyone's name."

"You just met them. No one expects you to remember them all."

They dismounted in the horse meadow and left the horses at the foot of the path. As she glanced up, Ayla noticed the Falling Stone silhouetted against the clear sky, and for a moment, it seemed to emanate a strange glow; but when she blinked, it was gone. The sun is bright, she thought. I must have looked at it without shading my eyes.

Wolf appeared out of the high grass; he had followed them in a desultory way, exploring small holes and chasing interesting scents. When he saw Ayla standing still, blinking, he decided it was time to properly greet the alpha leader of his pack. The huge canine caught her off guard when he jumped up and put his paws on the front of her shoulders. She staggered a bit, but caught herself and braced to hold his weight as he licked her jaw and held it in his teeth.

"Good morning, Wolf!" she said, holding his shaggy ruff in both hands. "I think you're feeling full of yourself today, too. Just like the horses." He dropped down and followed her up the path, ignoring the gawks of those who had not seen that particular display of affection before, and the smirks of those who had and were enjoying the reaction. Ayla signaled him to stay with her.

She thought about stopping at Marthona's dwelling to leave the full waterbag, but Jondalar continued beyond the dwelling area and she walked with him. They passed by the work area toward the southwest end of the overhang. Ahead, Ayla saw several people standing and sitting near the remains of the previous night's bonfire.

"There you are!" Joharran said, getting up from a small block of limestone and coming toward them.

As they got closer, Ayla noticed a small fire burning at the edge of the large blackened ring. Nearby was a deep basket, which was filled with steaming liquid upon which floated bits of leaves and other vegetal material. It was coated with something dark, and her nose detected the scent of pine pitch, which had been used to keep it watertight.

Proleva ladled some into a cup. "Have some hot tea, Ayla," she said, extending the cup to her.

"Thank you," Ayla said, taking the cup. She took a drink. It was a nice blend of herbs, with just a hint of pine. She drank more, then realized that she would have preferred something solid. The liquid was making her stomach queasy again, and her head was aching. She noticed an unoccupied stone block and sat down, hoping her stomach would settle. Wolf lay down at her feet. She held the cup in her hand without drinking and wished she had brewed some of the special "morning after" drink she had developed for Talut, the Mamutoi headman of the Lion Camp.

Zelandoni looked at Ayla closely and thought she detected some familiar signs. "This might be an appropriate time to stop for a bite to eat. Are there any leftovers from last night?" she said to Proleva.

"That's a good idea," Marthona said. "It's after midday. Have you had anything to eat yet, Ayla?"

"No," she said, feeling rather grateful that someone thought to ask. "I slept very late, then I went to the trenches, and up Wood River Valley to check on the horses. I refilled this waterbag at a little creek." She held it up. "That's where Jondalar found me."

"Good. If you don't mind, we'll use it to make more tea, and I'll get someone to bring food for everyone," Proleva said as she headed toward the dwellings at a brisk pace.

Ayla glanced around to see who was at this meeting and immediately caught Willamar's eye. They exchanged smiles. He was talking to Marthona, Zelandoni, and Jondalar, whose back was to her at the moment. Joharran had turned his attention to Solaban and Rushemar, his close friends and advisers. Ayla recalled that Ramara, the woman with the little boy with whom she had spoken earlier, was Solaban's mate. She had met Rushemar's mate the night before, too. She closed her eyes to try to remember her name. Salova, that was it. Sitting still had helped; her nausea had quieted.

Of the others who were there, she remembered that the gray-haired man was the leader of a nearby Cave. Manvelar was his name. He was talking to another man, whom she did not think she had met. He glanced apprehensively at Wolf now and then. A tall, thin woman who carried herself with a great deal of authority was another Cave leader, Ayla recalled, but she could not remember her name. The man beside her had a tattoo similar to Zelandoni's, and Ayla guessed he was also a spiritual leader.

It occurred to her that this group of people were all leaders of one kind or another in this community. In the Clan, these people would be the ones with the highest status. Among the Mamutoi, they would be the equivalent of the Council of Sisters and Brothers. The Zelandonii did not have dual leadership of a sister and brother as headwoman-headman for each Camp as the Mamutoi did; instead some Zelandonii leaders were men and some were women.

Proleva was returning at the same brisk pace. Though she seemed to be responsible for providing food for the group – she had been the one they turned to when food was wanted, Ayla noticed – she was obviously not the one who would bring and serve it. She was returning to the meeting; she must have considered herself an active participant. It appeared that the leader's mate could be a leader, too.

In the Clan, all the people at this kind of meeting would be men. There were no women leaders; women had no status in their own right. Except for medicine women, a woman's status depended on the rank of her mate. How would they reconcile that if they ever visited each other? she wondered.

"Ramara and Salova and some others are organizing a meal for us," Proleva announced, nodding toward Solaban and Rushemar.

"Good," Joharran said, which seemed to be a signal that the meeting was back in session. Everyone stopped chatting with one another and looked at him. He turned to her. "Ayla was presented last night. Have all of you introduced yourselves?"

"I wasn't here last night," said the man who had been talking with the gray-haired leader.

"Then allow me to introduce you," Joharran said. As the man stepped forward, Ayla stood up, but signaled Wolf to stay back. "Ayla, this is Brameval, Leader of Little Valley, the Fourteenth Cave of the Zelandonii. Brameval, meet Ayla of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi…" Joharran paused for a moment, trying to bring to mind the rest of her unfamiliar names and ties. "Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth." That's enough, he thought.

Brameval repeated his name and his function as he held out his hands. "In the name of Doni, you are welcome," he said.

Ayla accepted his hands. "In the name of Mut, Great Mother of All, also known as Doni, I greet you," she said, smiling.

He had noticed the difference in the way she spoke before, and even more now, but he responded to her smile and held her hands a moment longer. "Little Valley is the best place to catch fish. The people of the Fourteenth Cave are known as the best fishers; we make very good fish traps. We are close neighbors, you must visit us soon."

"Thank you, I would like to visit. I like fish, and I like to catch them, but I don't know how to trap them. When I was young, I learned to catch fish with my hands." Ayla emphasized her comment by lifting hers, which were still held by Brameval.

"Now that, I would like to see," he said as he let go. The woman leader stepped forward. "I would like to introduce our donier, the Zelandoni of River Place," she said. "He was not here last night, either." She glanced at Brameval, raised her eyebrows, and added, "The Eleventh Cave is known for making the rafts that are used to travel up and down The River. It's much easier to transport heavy loads on a raft than on the backs of people. If you are interested, you are welcome to come and visit."

"I would be most interested to learn about the way you make your floating river craft," Ayla said, trying to remember if they had been introduced and what her name was. "The Mamutoi make a kind of floating bowl out of thick hides fastened to a wooden frame, and use them to carry people and their things across rivers. On our way here, Jondalar and I made one to cross a large river, but the river was rough, and the small round boat was so light, it was hard to control. When we attached it to Whinney's pole drag, it was better."

"I don't understand 'winnies pole drag.' What does that mean?" the leader of the Eleventh Cave asked.

"Whinney is the name of one of the horses, Kareja," Jondalar said, getting up and coming forward. "The pole drag was devised by Ayla. She can tell you what it is."

Ayla described the conveyance and added, "With it Whinney could help me bring the animals I hunted back to my shelter. I'll show you sometime."

"When we reached the other side of that river," Jondalar added, "we decided to attach the bowl boat to the poles instead of the woven platform because we could put most of our things in it. That way, when we crossed rivers, the boat would float and nothing got wet, and attached to the poles, it was easier to control."

"Rafts can be a little hard to control, too," the woman leader said. "I think all watercraft must be hard to control."

"Some are easier than others. On my Journey, I stayed for a while with the Sharamudoi. They carve beautiful boats out of large tree trunks. The front and back come to points, and they use oars to steer them where they want to go. It takes practice, but the Ramudoi, the River People half of the Sharamudoi, are very good at it," Jondalar said.

"What are oars?"

"Oars look something like flattened spoons, and they use them to push the boat through the water. I helped to make one of their boats and learned to use oars."

"Do you think they would work better than the long poles we use to push the rafts through the water?"

"This talking about boats can be very interesting, Kareja," the man who had stepped forward said, interrupting. He was shorter than the woman and slight of build. "But I haven't been introduced yet. I think I'd better do it myself." Kareja flushed slightly, but made no comment. When Ayla heard her name, she recalled that they had been introduced.

"I am Zelandoni of the Eleventh Cave of the Zelandonii, also known as River Place. In the name of Doni, Great Earth Mother, I welcome you, Ayla of the Mamutoi, Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth," he said, holding out his hands.

"I greet you, Zelandoni of the Eleventh as One Who Serves She Who Is The Mother of All," Ayla said, grasping his hands. He had a powerful grip that belied his slight build, and she sensed not only his wiry strength, but an inner force and surety. She also detected something else in the way he moved that reminded her of some of the mamutii she had met at the Mamutoi Summer Meeting.

The old Mamut who had adopted her had spoken of those who carried the essence of both male and female in one body. They were thought to possess the power of both genders and were sometimes feared, but if they joined the ranks of Those Who Served The Mother, they were often believed to be especially powerful and were welcomed. As a result, he had explained, many men who found themselves drawn to men as a woman would be, or women who were attracted to women as a man, were drawn to the Mammoth Hearth. She wondered if the same was true with the zelandonia and, judging from the man who stood there, guessed it might be.

She noticed the tattoo above his temple again. Like Zelandoni Who Was First, it consisted of squares, some outlined, some colored in, but he had fewer and different ones were filled in, and some additional curved markings. It made her aware that everyone there, except for Jondalar and herself, had some kind of facial tattoo. The least conspicuous was Willamar's, the most ornate decorated the face of the woman leader, Kareja.

"Since Kareja has already bragged about the achievements of the Eleventh Cave," the donier added, turning to acknowledge the Cave's leader, "I will only add my invitation to you to visit, but I would like to ask a question. Are you also One Who Serves?"

Ayla frowned. "No," she said. "What makes you think so?"

"I have been listening to gossip." He smiled with his admission. "With your control over animals," he said, motioning toward the wolf, "many people think you must be. And I recall hearing about mammoth hunting people to the east. It was said that Those Who Serve eat only mammoth and they all live in one place, perhaps at one hearth. When you were introduced as 'of the Mammoth Hearth,' I wondered if any of that was true."

"Not quite," Ayla said, smiling. "It is true that among the Mammoth Hunters, Those Who Serve The Mother belong to the Mammoth Hearth, but that doesn't mean they all live together. It is a name, like the 'zelandonia.' There are many hearths – the Lion Hearth, the Fox Hearth, the Crane Hearth. They indicate the… line a person is affiliated with. One is usually born to a hearth, but can also be adopted. There are many different hearths at one Camp, which is named after the founder's hearth. Mine was called the Lion Camp because Talut was of the Lion Hearth, and he was the headman. His sister, Tulie, was headwoman – every Camp has both a sister and brother as leaders."

Everyone was listening with interest. Learning how other people organized themselves and lived was fascinating to people who primarily knew only their own way.

"Mamutoi means 'the mammoth hunters' in their language, or perhaps 'the children of the Mother who hunt mammoths,' since they also honor the Mother," Ayla continued, trying to make it clear. "The mammoth is especially sacred to them. That's why the Mammoth Hearth is reserved for Those Who Serve. People usually choose the Mammoth Hearth, or feel they are chosen, but I was adopted by the old Mamut of the Lion Camp, so I am a 'Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth.' If I were One Who Served, I would say 'Chosen by the Mammoth Hearth' or 'Called to the Mammoth Hearth.'"

The two Zelandonia were poised to ask more questions, but Joharran interrupted. Although he was also intrigued, he was more interested at the moment in the people who had raised Ayla than the ones who had adopted her. "I'd like to hear more about the Mamutoi," he said, "but Jondalar has been telling us some interesting things about those flatheads you met on your trip back. If what he says is true, we need to start thinking about flatheads in a completely different way. To be honest, I'm afraid they may pose a greater threat than we ever thought."

"Why a threat?" Ayla asked, immediately on her guard.

"From what Jondalar tells me, they are… thinking people. We have always thought of flatheads as animals little different from cave bears, perhaps even related to them; a smaller, somewhat more intelligent type, but an animal," Joharran said.

"We know some of the hollows and caves around here were once cave bear dens," Marthona put in. "And Zelandoni was telling us that some of the Elder Legends and Histories say that sometimes cave bears were killed or chased away so that the First People could have homes. If some of those 'cave bears' were flatheads… well… if they are intelligent people, anything is possible."

"If they are people, and we have treated them like animals, hostile animals," Joharran paused, "I have to say that, if I were in their place, I would be considering some way to retaliate. I would have tried to get back at us a long time ago. I think we need to be aware of the possibility that they may."

Ayla relaxed. Joharran had stated his position well. She could understand why he thought they might be a threat. He might even be right.

"I wonder if that's why people have always insisted that flatheads are animals," Willamar said. "Killing animals is one thing, if it's necessary for food or shelter, but if they were people, even a strange kind of people, that's something else. No one wants to think that their ancestors killed people and stole their homes, but if you convince yourself that they are animals, you can live with it."

Ayla thought that was a surprising insight, but Willamar had made wise and intelligent comments before. She was beginning to understand why Jondalar had always spoken of him with such affection and respect. He was an exceptional man.

"Bad feelings can lie dormant for a long time," Marthona said, "many generations, but if they have Histories and Legends, it gives them long memories, and trouble can flare up. Since you know so much more about them, I wonder if we could ask you some questions, Ayla."

She wondered if she should tell them that the Clan did have stories and legends, but they didn't need them to remember their history. They were born with long memories.

"It might be smart to attempt to make contact with them in a different way than we have in the past," Joharran continued. "Perhaps we can avoid problems before they materialize. We might consider sending a delegation to meet with them, perhaps to discuss trading."

"What do you think, Ayla?" Willamar said. "Would they be interested in trading with us?"

Ayla frowned in thought. "I don't know. The Clan I knew were aware of people like us. To them, we were the Others, but they avoided contact. For the most part, the small clan I grew up with didn't think about the Others most of the time. They knew I was one and not Clan, but I was a child, and a girl child at that. I was of little significance to Brun and the men, at least when I was young," she said. "But Brun's clan didn't live near the Others. I think that was lucky for me. Until they found me, no one in his clan had ever seen a young one of the Others; some had never seen an adult, even from a distance. They were willing to take me in and take care of me, but I'm not sure how they would have felt if they had been chased away from their homes, or harassed by a pack of rough young men."

"But Jondalar told us some people had contacted the ones you met on the way about trading," Willamar said. "If other people trade with them, why can't we?"

"Doesn't that depend on whether they really are people and not animals related to cave bears?" Brameval interjected.

"They are people, Brameval," Jondalar said. "If you ever had close contact with one, you'd know. And they're smart. I encountered more than the couple that Ayla and I met when I was on my Journey. Remind me to tell you some stories, later."

"You say you were actually raised by them, Ayla," Manvelar said. "Tell us something about them. What kind of people are they?" The gray-haired man seemed reasonable, not one to jump to conclusions without learning as much as he could.

Ayla nodded, but paused for a moment to think before she replied. "It's interesting that you think they are related to cave bears. There is a strange kind of truth in that; the Clan believe they are, too. They even live with one, sometimes."

"Hhmmmf!" Brameval snorted, as if to say, "I told you!"

Ayla directed her comments to him. "The Clan venerates Ursus, the Spirit of the Cave Bear, much the way the Others honor the Great Earth Mother. They refer to themselves as the Clan of the Cave Bear. When the Clan has their big Gathering – like a Summer Meeting, but not every year – they have a very sacred ceremony for the Cave Bear Spirit. Long before the Clan Gathering, the host clan captures a cave bear cub, who lives with them in their cave. They feed him and raise him as one of their own children, at least until he gets too big, then they build a place for him that will keep him from running away, but they still feed and pamper him.

"During the Clan Gathering," Ayla continued, "the men compete to see who will have the honor of sending Ursus to the World of the Spirits to speak for the Clan and carry their messages. The three men who have won the most competitions are chosen – it takes at least that many to send a full-grown cave bear to the next world. While it is an honor to be chosen, it is very dangerous. Often the cave bear takes one or more of the men with him to the Spirit World."

"So they communicate with the world of the spirits," said Zelandoni of the Eleventh.

"And they bury their dead with red ochre," Jondalar said, knowing his words carried a deep meaning to the man.

"This information will take some time to comprehend," the leader of the Eleventh Cave said, "and a great deal of consideration. It will mean many changes."

"You're right, of course, Kareja," said the First Among Those Who Served.

"Right now, we don't need much thought to consider stopping for a meal," said Proleva, glancing back toward the eastern end of the terrace. Everyone turned and looked in the same direction. A procession of people was coming with platters and containers of food.

The people at the meeting broke into small groups to eat. Manvlar sat beside Ayla, opposite Jondalar, with his dish of food. He had made a point of introducing himself the night before, but with the throng surrounding the newcomer, he hadn't tried to get better acquainted. His Cave was nearby, and he knew he'd have time later. "You've had several invitations, but let me add another," he said. "You must come and visit Two Rivers Rock; the Third Cave of the Zelandonii are close neighbors."

"If the Fourteenth Cave are known as the best fishers, and the Eleventh Cave for making rafts, what is the Third Cave known for?" Ayla asked.

Jondalar answered for him. "Hunting."

"Doesn't everyone hunt?" she asked.

"Of course, that's why they don't brag about it, just because everyone hunts. Some individual hunters from other Caves like to talk about their own prowess, and they may be good, but as a group, the Third Cave are the best hunters."

Manvelar smiled. "We do brag about it, in our own way, but I think the reason we have become such good hunters is our location. Our shelter is high above the confluence of two rivers, with wide grassy valleys. This one," he said, waving a hand that held a meaty bone toward The River, "and another called Grass River. Most of the animals we hunt migrate through these two valleys, and we've got the best place from which to watch for them at any time of the year. We've learned to judge when certain ones will likely appear and we usually let everyone else know, but we are often the first ones to hunt them."

"That may be true, Manvelar, but all the hunters of the Third Cave are good, not just one or two. They work hard to perfect their skill. All of them," Jondalar said. "Ayla understands that. She loves to hunt, she is amazing with a sling, but wait until we show you the new spear-thrower we developed. It throws a spear so much farther and faster, you won't believe it. Ayla is more accurate, and I can throw a little farther, but anyone can hit an animal from twice or even three times as far as you can with a spear thrown by hand."

"I would like to see that!" Manvelar said. "Joharran wants to arrange a hunt soon to add provisions for the Summer Meeting. That may be a good time to demonstrate this new weapon, Jondalar." Then, turning to Ayla, he added, "Both of you are joining the hunt, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'd like to." She paused to take a bite, then, looking at the men, she said, "I have a question. Why are Caves numbered the way they are? Is there some order or meaning to the numbers?"

"The oldest Caves have the lowest numbers," Jondalar said. "They were established first. The Third Cave was established before the Ninth, and the Ninth before the Eleventh or Fourteenth. There is no First Cave anymore. The oldest is the Second Cave of the Zelandonii, which isn't too far from here. Manvelar's Cave is the next oldest. It was established by the First People."

"When you taught me the counting words, Jondalar, they were always said in a particular order," Ayla said. "This is the Ninth Cave, and Manvelar, yours is the Third Cave. Where are the people from the Caves with numbers in between?"

The gray-haired man smiled. Ayla had picked the right person to ask for information about the Zelandonii. Manvelar had a longstanding interest in the history of his people, and had acquired quite a store of information from various members of the zelandonia, traveling Story-Tellers, and people who had heard tales that were passed down from their ancestors. Members of the zelandonia, including Zelandoni herself, sometimes asked him questions.

"Over the years since the First People established the founding Caves, many things have changed," Manvelar said. "People have moved or found mates in other Caves. Some Caves grew smaller, some bigger."

"Like the Ninth Cave, some grew unusually large," Jondalar added.

"The Histories tell of sickness that sometimes claimed many people, or bad years when people starved." Manvelar picked up the story again. "When Caves get small, sometimes two or more join together. The combined Cave usually takes the lowest number, but not always. When Caves get too big for the size of their shelter, they may break off to form a new Cave, often close by. Some time ago a group from the Second Cave broke off and moved to the other side of their valley. They are called the Seventh Cave because at that time there was a Third, Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth in existence. There is still a Third, of course, and a Fifth, up north, but no longer a Fourth or Sixth."

Ayla was delighted to learn more about the Zelandonii and smiled her gratitude for the explanation. The three of them sat companionably together for a while, eating quietly. Then Ayla had another question. "Are all Caves known for something special, like fishing or hunting or raft-making?"

"Most of them," Jondalar said.

"What is the Ninth Cave known for?"

"Their artists and craftspeople," Manvelar answered for him. "All Caves have skilled artisans, but the Ninth Cave has the best. That's partly why they are so large. It is not just the children born, but anyone who wants the best training in anything from carving to tool-making wants to move to the Ninth Cave."

"That's mainly because of Down River," Jondalar said.

"What is 'Down River'?" Ayla asked.

"It's the next shelter just downriver from here," Jondalar explained. "It's not the home of an organized Cave, although you might think so from the number of people who are usually there. It's the place where people go to work on their projects, and to talk to other people about them. I'll take you there, maybe after this meeting – if we get away before dark."

After everyone had eaten, including the servers, the children of several of the people, and Wolf, they relaxed with cups and bowls of hot tea. Ayla was feeling much better. Her nausea was gone and so was her headache, but she noticed her increased need to pass water again. As the ones who had brought the meal were leaving with the largely empty serving dishes, Ayla noticed that Marthona was standing alone for a moment and walked over to her.

"Is there a place to pass water nearby?" she asked quietly. "Or do we have to go back to the dwellings?"

Marthona smiled. "I was thinking about the same thing. There's a path to The River near the Standing Stone, a little steep near the top, but it goes to a place near the bank that is used mainly by the women. I'll show you." Wolf followed them, watched Ayla for a while, then discovered a scent more interesting and left to explore more of the bank of The River. On the way back, they passed Kareja heading down the path. They nodded to each other in mutual understanding.

After everything was cleared away, and Joharran made sure everyone was there, he stood up. It seemed to be a signal to resume discussions. Everyone looked at the leader of the Ninth Cave.

"Ayla," Joharran said, "while we were eating, Kareja brought up a question. Jondalar says that he can communicate with flatheads, the Clan, as you call them, but not like you can. Do you know their language as well as he says?"

"Yes, I know the language," Ayla said. "I was raised by them. I didn't know any other language until I met Jondalar. At one time I must have, when I was very young, before I lost my own people, but I didn't remember it at all."

"But the place where you grew up was very far from here, a year's travel, isn't that right?" Joharran continued. Ayla nodded. "The language of people who live far away is not the same as ours. I cannot understand you when you and Jondalar speak Mamutoi. Even the Losadunai, who live much closer, have a different language. Some words are similar, and I can grasp a little, but I can't communicate beyond simple concepts. I understand the language of these Clan people is not the same as ours, but how can you, who come from so far away, understand the language of the ones who live around here?"

"I understand your doubt," Ayla said. "I wasn't sure myself when we first met Cuban and Yorga if I would be able to communicate with them. But language with words is different from the kind of language they use, not only because of the signs and signals, but because they have two languages."

"What do you mean, two languages?" asked Zelandoni Who Was First.

"They have an ordinary common language that each clan uses every day among themselves," Ayla explained. "Although they use hand signs and gestures for the most part, including postures and expressions, they also use some words, even though they can't make all of the sounds that the Others can. Some clans speak words more than others. The common everyday language and words of Cuban and Yorga were different from those of my clan, and I couldn't understand them. But the Clan also has a special, formal language that they use to speak to the World of the Spirits, and to communicate with people from other clans who have a different ordinary language. It is very ancient and no words are used, except some personal names. That was the language I used."

"Let me make sure I understand this," Zelandoni said. "This Clan – we're talking about flatheads here – not only have one language, they have two, and one of them is mutually intelligible with any other flathead, even someone who lives a year's Journey away?"

"It is rather hard to believe, isn't it?" Jondalar said with a wide grin. "But it is true."

Zelandoni shook her head. The rest looked just as skeptical.

"It's a very ancient language, and people of the Clan have very long memories," Ayla tried to explain. "They don't forget anything."

"I find it difficult to believe that they can really communicate much with only gestures and signs, anyway," Brameval said.

"I feel the same way," Kareja said. "As Joharran said about the Losadunai and the Zelandonii comprehending each other's languages, perhaps we are talking about only simple concepts."

"You gave a little demonstration in my home yesterday," Marthona said. "Could you show all of us?"

"And if, as you say, Jondalar knows some of this language, perhaps he could translate for us," Manvelar added. Everyone nodded.

Ayla stood up. She paused, gathering her thoughts. Then, with the motions of the ancient formal language, she signed, "This woman would greet the man Manvelar." She spoke the name aloud, but her speech mannerism, her peculiar accent, was much stronger when she said it.

Jondalar translated. "Greetings Manvelar."

"This woman would greet the man Joharran," Ayla continued.

"And you, too, Joharran," Jondalar said. They went through a few more simple statements, but he could tell they were not getting across the full extent of the comprehensive, if silent, language. He knew she could say more, but he couldn't translate the full complexity.

"You're just giving me basic signs, aren't you, Ayla."

"I don't think you can translate more than basic signs, Jondalar. That's all I taught the Lion Camp and you. Just enough so you could communicate with Rydag. I'm afraid the full language wouldn't mean much to you," Ayla said.

"When you showed us, Ayla," Marthona said, "you did your own translation. I think that would be more clear."

"Yes, why don't you show Brameval and the others that way, by using both languages," Jondalar suggested.

"All right, but what should I say?"

"Why don't you tell us about your life with them," Zelandoni suggested. "Do you remember when they first took you in?"

Jondalar smiled at the big woman. That was a good idea. It would not only show everyone the language, it would also show the compassion of the people, that they were willing to take in an orphan child, even a strange orphan child. It would show that the Clan treated one of ours better than we treated them.

Ayla stood for a moment, gathering her thoughts; then in both the formal sign language of the Clan and the words of the Zelandonii, she began. "I don't recall much of the beginning, but Iza often told me how she found me. They were looking for a new cave. There had been an earthquake, probably the one I still dream about. It destroyed their home, falling stones inside the cave killed several of Brun's clan, and many things were damaged. They buried their dead, then left. Even if the cave was still there, it was unlucky to stay. The spirits of their totems were unhappy there and wanted them to leave. They were traveling quickly. They needed a new home soon, not just for themselves, but because their protective Spirits needed a place where they would be content."

Though Ayla kept her voice neutral and told the story with signs and movements, the people were already caught up in her tale. To them, totems were an aspect of the Mother and they understood the disasters that the Great Earth Mother could wreak when she was not happy.

"Iza told me they were following a river when they saw carrion birds circling overhead. Brun and Grod saw me first, but passed by. They were looking for food, and would have been glad if the carrion birds had spotted prey killed by a hunting animal. They might be able to keep a four-legged hunter away long enough to take some of the meat. They thought I was dead, but they don't eat people, not even one of the Others."

There was a grace and easy flow to Ayla's movements as she spoke. She made the signs and gestures with practiced ease. "When Iza saw me lying on the ground beside the river, she stopped to look. She was a medicine woman and interested. My leg had been clawed by a big cat, she thought probably a cave lion, and the wound had festered. At first, she thought I was dead, too, but then she heard me moan, so she examined me closer and discovered that I was breathing. She asked Brun, the leader, who was her sibling, if she could take me with them. He did not forbid it."

"Good!"

"Yes!" came responses from the audience. Jondalar smiled to himself.

"Iza was pregnant at the time, but she picked me up and carried me until they made camp for the night. She wasn't sure if her medicine would work on the Others, but she knew of a case where it had before, so she decided to try. She made a poultice to draw out the infection. She carried me all the next day, too. I remember the first time I woke up and saw her face, I screamed, but she held me and comforted me. By the third day, I was able to walk a little, and by then, Iza decided I was meant to be her child."

Ayla stopped there. There was a profound silence. It was a moving story.

"How old were you?" Proleva finally asked.

"Iza told me later that she thought I could count about five years at the time. I was perhaps the age of Jaradal, or Robenan," she added, looking at Solaban.

"Did you say all that with the gestures, too?" Solaban asked. "Can they really say so much without words?"

"There is not a sign for every word I said, but they would have understood essentially the same story. Their language is more than just the motions of the hands. It is everything; even a flicker of an eyelid or a nod of the head can convey meaning."

"But with that kind of language," Jondalar added, "they cannot tell a lie. If they tried, an expression or posture would give them away. When I first met her, Ayla didn't even have a concept for saying something that is not true. She even had trouble understanding what I meant. Though she understands now, she still can't do it. Ayla can't lie. She never learned how. That's how she was raised."

"There may be more merit than one would realize in speaking without words," Marthona said quietly.

"I think it is obvious from watching her that this kind of sign language is a natural way of communicating for Ayla," Zelandoni said, thinking to herself that her motions would not be so smooth and graceful if she was faking. And what reason would she have to lie about it – could it be true that she can't tell a lie? She wasn't entirely convinced, but Jondalar's arguments had been persuasive.

"Tell us more about your life with them," Zelandoni of the Eleventh said. "You don't have to continue with the signs, unless you want to. It is beautiful to watch, but I think you have made your point. You said they buried their dead. I'd like to know more of their burial practices."

"Yes, they bury their dead. I was there when Iza died."

The discussion continued all afternoon. Ayla gave a moving account of the ceremony and ritual of the burial, then told them more about her childhood. People asked many questions, interrupting often to discuss and request more information.

Joharran finally noticed it was getting dark. "I think Ayla is tired, and we're all hungry again," he said. "Before we break up, I think we should talk about a hunt before the Summer Meeting."

"Jondalar was telling me they have a new hunting weapon to show us," Manvelar said. "Perhaps tomorrow or the next day would be a good day to hunt. That would give the Third Cave time to develop some plans to offer about where we should go."

"Good," Joharran said, "but now, Proleva has arranged another meal for us, if anyone is hungry."

The meeting had been intense and fascinating, but people were glad to be up and moving around. As they walked back toward the dwellings, Ayla thought about the meeting, and all the questions. She knew she had answered everything truthfully, but she also knew she hadn't volunteered much beyond what was asked. In particular, she had avoided any mention of her son. She knew that to the Zelandonii he would be thought of as an abomination, and though she could not lie, she could refrain from mentioning.