The Shelters of Stone (114 page)

“How about the Ninth?” Jondalar asked.

“I think they have a chance, but I’ll wager on the Fifth,” the young man replied.

“You’re biased. You just want the prizes.” Jondalar laughed. “What did the Fifth Cave donate this year?”

“The dried meat from two aurochs killed at the first hunt, a dozen spears, and a large wooden bowl carved by our best carver. What about the Ninth?”

“A large skin of Marthona’s wine, five birch spear-throwers with carvings, five firestones, and two of Salova’s large baskets, one filled with hazelnuts, the other with tart apples,” Jondalar replied.

“It’s Marthona’s wine I’m going to try for, if the Fifth wins. I hope the bones are lucky for me. Once I can get rid of this stick,” he lifted the crutch, “I’m going to move back into the men’s tent. I think I could move back now, stick or not,
but my mother doesn’t want me to go yet. She has been wonderful, no one could have cared more, but now I’m getting a little too much mothering. You’d think I was five years old ever since the accident,” he said.

“You can’t blame her,” Ayla said.

“I don’t blame her. I understand. I just want to get back to the men’s tent. I’d even invite you to the party we’d have with the wine, if you weren’t mated, Jondalar.”

“Thanks anyway, but I’ve had enough of men’s tents. Someday, when you’re older, you’ll find out that being mated isn’t as bad as you think,” Jondalar said.

“But you’ve already got the woman I want,” the young man said, casting a teasing glance at Ayla. “If I had her, I’d be willing to move out of the men’s tent, too. When I saw her at your Matrimonial, I thought she was the most beautiful woman I ever saw. I could hardly believe my eyes. I think every man thought so and wished he were in your place, Jondalar.”

Though in the beginning Matagan was shy around Ayla, he lost his uneasiness after getting to know her during the many days she went to the zelandonia lodge to assist in his care. Then his natural outgoing friendliness and developing easy charm began to express themselves.

“Listen to him,” Ayla said, smiling and patting her protruding middle. “Some ‘beautiful.’ An old woman with a belly full.”

“That makes you more beautiful than ever. And I like older women. I may mate one someday, if I can find one like you,” Matagan said.

Jondalar smiled at the young man, who reminded him of Thonolan. It was obvious he was infatuated with Ayla, but he was going to be a charmer someday, and he might need it if he ended up being permanently lame. Jondalar didn’t mind if he practiced a little on Ayla. He had once been in love with an older woman, too.

“And you are my favorite healer.” His eyes turned more serious. “I woke up a few times when I was being carried on the stretcher, and I thought I was dreaming when saw you. I
thought you were a beautiful donii come to take me to the Great Mother. I’m sure you saved my life, Ayla, and I don’t think I’d be walking at all if it weren’t for you.”

“I just happened to be there, and did what I could,” Ayla said.

“That may be, but you know, if there is ever anything you need …” He looked down, his face flushed with embarrassment. He was having trouble saying what he wanted to say. He looked at her again. “If there is ever anything I can do for you, you only have to ask.”

“I remember a time when I thought Ayla was a donii,” Jondalar said to ease his distress. “Did you know she sewed my skin together? On our Journey, I can remember a time when an entire S’Armunai Camp thought she was the Mother Herself, a living donii come to help Her children. For all I know, maybe she is, the way men fall in love with her.”

“Jondalar! Don’t fill him full of such nonsense,” Ayla said. “And we’d better get back to work, or the Ninth Cave will lose. Not only that, but I want to keep some of this grain for a couple of horses, and maybe for a new foal. I’m glad we collected so much rye when it ripened, but the horses like oats better.”

She looked into the basket, which was hanging around her neck so her hands would be free, to see how many seeds were in it, then positioned the stone in her hand and set to work. With one hand she held together a few stalks of ripe wild grains, with the other she grasped the stalks so that the round stone was pressed against them a little below the seed heads. Then, in a smooth motion, she pulled the stalks through her hand in one motion so that the hard stone stripped the seeds off into her hand. She emptied them into the basket and reached for the next few stalks.

It was slow, meticulous work, but not difficult once you got into the rhythm of it. Using a stone helped to strip the stalks more efficiently, and therefore faster, mien Ayla asked, no one could remember where the idea came from, they’d been doing it that way for as long as anyone could remember.

As Matagan limped away, Ayla and Jondalar were both
stripping grain seeds into their baskets. “You have a devoted admirer in the Fifth Cave, Ayla,” Jondalar said. “Many others feel that way. You’ve made friends at this Meeting. Most people think of you as a Zelandoni. They are not used to a healer who is not a donier.”

“Matagan is a nice young man,” Ayla said, “and the fur-lined parka with the hood that his mother insisted on giving to me is beautiful, and roomy enough that I will be able to wear it this winter. She asked me to visit them after we return this autumn. Wasn’t the home of the Fifth Cave the place we passed by on our way here?”

“Yes, it’s upstream on a small tributary of The River. Maybe we’ll stop on our way back. By the way, I’m going hunting with Joharran and several others in a few days. We may be gone a while,” Jondalar said, trying to make it sound like a normal activity.

“I don’t suppose I could go?” Ayla said wistfully.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to give up hunting for a while. You know, and Matagan’s accident has made it plain, that hunting can be dangerous, especially if you are not quite as fast on your feet as you used to be. And after the baby is born, you’ll be busy nursing and caring for it,” Jondalar said.

“I hunted after Dure was born. One of the other women nursed him for me if I didn’t get back in time to feed him.”

“But you weren’t gone for several days at a time.”

“No, I just hunted small animals with my sling,” she admitted.

“Well, you may be able to do that again, but you shouldn’t go out with hunting parties for days at a time. Anyway, I’m your mate now. It’s my job to take care of you and your children. That’s what I promised when we mated. If a man can’t provide for his mate and her children, what use is he? What’s a man’s purpose if women have children and provide for them, too?” Jondalar said.

Ayla had never heard Jondalar talk that way before. Did all men feel that way? she wondered. Did men need to find a purpose for their existence because they could not have children? She tried to imagine how it would feel if it were the
other way around, if she could never have a baby and believed her only contribution was to help provide for them. She turned to face him.

“This baby would not be inside me if it were not for you, Jondalar,” she said, putting her hands on the bulge below her breasts. “This baby is as much yours as mine. It’s just growing inside me for a while. Without your essence, it would not have gotten started.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” he said. “You may think so, but no one else does, not even Zelandoni.”

The two stood facing each other in the middle of the open field, not antagonistic, but with conflicting beliefs. Jondalar noticed strands of sun-bleached blond hair had escaped from the restraining leather band and were whipping across her face in the wind. She was barefoot, and her tanned arms and breasts were exposed above the simple leather garment wrapped around her expanding middle and hanging loosely down to her knees to protect her body from the scratchy dry grasses they were gathering. Her eyes were determined, resolute, almost angrily defiant, but she looked so vulnerable. His look softened.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. I love you, Ayla. I just want to take care of you and your baby,” he said. He reached to enfold her in his arms.

“Our baby, Jondalar. Our baby,” she said, putting her arms around him and clinging to his bare chest. He felt her bare breasts and the bulge of her stomach, and was glad for both.

“All right, Ayla. Our baby,” he said. He wanted to believe it.

There was a noticeable nip in the air as they stepped out of the lodge. The leaves on the trees in the small woods were turning shades of yellow and an occasional red, and the grasses and herbs that were not trampled into dust around the encampment were brown and shriveled. Every bit of fallen wood or dry brush in the area had long since been burned, and the woods had been thinned out considerably.

Jondalar picked up the packs that had been lying on the ground near the opening of the lodge. “The horses with the pole drags are going to be a big help carrying back the winter food stores. It’s been a good season.”

Wolf raced up to them, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. One ear drooped slightly and had a ragged edge, giving him a raffish air. “I think he knows we’re leaving,” Ayla said. “I’m so glad he came back and stayed with us, even if he was hurt. I would have missed him. I’m looking forward to returning to the Ninth Cave, but I’ll always remember this Summer Meeting. This is the Meeting we were mated.”

“I enjoyed this Summer Meeting, too, I haven’t been to one in so long, but now that we’re leaving, I’m anxious to get back,” Jondalar said, then smiled. He was thinking of the surprise that he knew was waiting for Ayla. She noticed a difference in his expression. His smile was more a delighted grin, and he projected a sense of expectation. She had a feeling there was something he wasn’t telling her, but she had no idea what it could be.

“I’m glad the Lanzadonii came. It’s a long way for them to travel, but Dalanar got the donier he wanted,” he continued, “and Joplaya and Echozar are properly mated. The Lanzadonii are a small people yet, but it won’t be long before there’s a second Cave. They have a lot of young ones, and they’ve been lucky. Most have survived.”

“I’m pleased that Joplaya is pregnant,” Ayla said. “She was Blessed before they were joined, but I don’t think many people heard that during the Matrimonial.”

“Some people had other things on their minds, but I’m glad for them. Joplaya seems different, somehow, sadder. Maybe all she needs is a baby,” Jondalar said.

“We’d better hurry. Joharran said he wanted to leave early,” Ayla said.

She didn’t want to talk about Joplaya’s sadness because she knew the reason, and she didn’t want to mention the long conversation she’d had with Jerika. Joplaya’s mother had wanted some specific information from her. She told Ayla
about her own difficulty in giving birth and wanted to know everything Ayla could tell her that might make a potentially difficult delivery easier. She also wanted to know about her medicine that could prevent conception, and ways to bring on a miscarriage if that didn’t work. She feared for the life of her only child and would have been satisfied with no grandchildren rather than lose her daughter. But since she was already pregnant, and determined to have this baby, if she survived the delivery, Jerika was determined to make sure there would be no more pregnancies.

The Eleventh Cave had brought all their rafts upriver, and Joharran arranged to send some things back that way, but River Place only had so many rafts and all the Caves wanted to use them. The Ninth Cave loaded as many rawhide packages of dried meat and baskets of gathered foods on the travoises and the backs of Whinney and Racer as they could. The lodges that had been their homes for the summer were taken down, and the parts that could be salvaged and reused were also loaded on the horses. Each person also carried a full backpack, and some people, seeing the pole drags of the horses, fashioned a similar device for themselves to drag. Ayla thought about making one for Wolf, but she hadn’t trained him to pull one yet. Perhaps next year he would have a load, too.

Joharran was all over the campsite, urging people to hurry, offering suggestions, making sure everything was in readiness. When he was sure the Ninth Cave was packed and ready to go, he started out ahead of the rest, his spear held loosely, but it was more symbolic than necessary. They were traveling in the daytime with a large group, and as long as they stayed together, no four-legged hunter would come near them. Nonetheless, at the first sign of danger, Joharran could have his spear mounted in his spear-thrower and ready to fling in an instant. He had practiced with the weapon over the summer, and had gained some skill with it. There were half a dozen others designated to guard the flanks, with Solaban and Rushemar bringing up the rear. The job of guarding would be rotated among several others, who were, at the moment,
helping to carry a rich summer bounty back to the Ninth Cave.

Ayla looked out over the camp of the Summer Meeting one last time before they left. Piles of bones and trash littered the small valley. Several of the Caves had already departed, leaving large empty spaces between the campsites of those that remained, with poles and log frames left standing, and black circles and rectangles that showed where sustaining fires had been. A tent that was too worn for further use had been left behind, and a torn edge of leather no longer attached to a pole was flapping in the wind, which was also blowing an old basket around. As she watched, another Cave’s lodges were being torn down. The Summer Meeting camp had a desolate, abandoned look to it.

But the litter was of the earth and would soon decompose. By the next spring there would be little evidence remaining of the Caves that had summered here. The earth would heal from the invasion.

The trip back was arduous. The heavily loaded people trudged under their burdens and dropped into their beds exhausted at night. Joharran set a brisk pace in the beginning, but slowed as they progressed to enable the weakest to keep up. But they all looked forward to going home and their spirits were high. The loads they carried represented survival during the harsh winter months ahead.

As they neared the abri of the Ninth Cave, the familiar landscape encouraged the people to hurry. They were eager to reach the shelter under the overhanging ledge of stone, and they pushed themselves so they would not have to spend another night outside. The first evening stars were winking on in the sky as the familiar cliff with the Falling Stone came into view. They crossed Wood River on the stepping-stones with some difficulty under the failing light with their cumbersome loads, then followed the path up to the front porch of their abri. When they finally reached the stone porch in front of the opening under the protecting shelf, it was nearly dark.