“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 t
he 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. Manvelar 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 long-standing 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.