The Land of Painted Caves

by Jean M. Auel

  Ayla grasped both of his hands in hers. “I am Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii,” she began, “acolyte to Zelandoni of the Ninth Cave, First Among Those Who Serve”; then she hesitated, wondering how many of Jondalar’s ties to mention. At the Matrimonial Ceremony last summer, all of Jondalar’s names and ties were added to hers, and it made for a very long recitation, but it was only during the most formal of ceremonies that the whole list was required. Since this was her official meeting of the leader of the Seventh Cave, she wanted to make the introduction formal, but not go on and on.

  She decided to cite the closest of his ties and continue with her own, including her previous ties. She finished with the appellations that had been added in a more lighthearted vein, but that she liked to use. “Friend of the horses, Whinney, Racer, and Gray, and the four-legged hunter, Wolf. In the name of the Great Mother of all, I greet you, Sergenor, leader of the Seventh Cave of the Zelandonii, and I would like to thank you for inviting us to Horsehead Rock.”

  She is definitely not a Zelandonii, Sergenor thought, as he heard her speak. She may have Jondalar’s names and ties, but she’s a foreigner with foreign customs, especially about animals. As he dropped her hands, he eyed the wolf, who had come closer.

  Ayla saw his uneasiness around the big carnivore. She had noticed that Kimeran was not particularly comfortable near the animal either, though he had been introduced to Wolf last year shortly after they arrived, and he had seen him several times. Neither of the leaders was accustomed to seeing a hunting meat-eater moving so easily among people. Her thoughts were similar to Jondalar’s: this might be a good time to get them more accustomed to Wolf.

  The people of the Seventh Cave were noticing that the couple everyone talked about from the Ninth Cave had arrived, and more people were coming to see the woman with the wolf. All the nearby Caves had known within a day when Jondalar returned from his five-year-long Journey the summer before. Arriving on horseback with a foreign woman guaranteed it. They had met people from most of the nearby Caves at the Ninth Cave when they came to visit, or at the last Summer Meeting, but this was the first time they had paid a visit to the Seventh or the Second Cave.

  Ayla and Jondalar had planned to go the previous fall, but never quite made it. It wasn’t that their Caves were so far away from each other, but something always seemed to interfere, and then winter was upon them, and Ayla was getting along in her pregnancy. All the delayed expectation had made their visit an occasion, especially since the First had decided to have a meeting here with the local zelandonia at the same time.

  “Whoever carved the Horsehead in the cave below must have known horses. It is very well made,” Ayla said.

  “I always thought so, but it is nice to hear it from someone who knows horses as well as you do,” Sergenor said.

  Wolf was sitting back on his haunches with his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth, eyeing the man, his bent ear giving him a cocky, self-satisfied look. Ayla knew he was expecting to be introduced. He had watched her greet the leader of the Seventh Cave and he had come to expect to be presented to any stranger that she greeted in that way.

  “I also want to thank you for allowing me to bring Wolf. He’s always unhappy if he can’t be near me, and now he feels that way about Jonayla, since he loves children so much,” Ayla said.

  “That wolf loves children?” Sergenor said.

  “Wolf didn’t grow up with other wolves, he was raised with the Mamutoi children of the Lion Camp and thinks of people as his pack, and all wolves love the young of their packs,” Ayla said. “He saw me greet you and now he expects to meet you. He has learned to accept anyone that I introduce him to.”

  Sergenor frowned. “How do you introduce a wolf?” he said. He glanced at Kimeran and saw him grinning.

  The younger man was remembering his introduction to Wolf, and though he might still be somewhat nervous around the carnivore, he was rather enjoying the older man’s discomfiture.

  Ayla signaled Wolf to come forward and knelt down to put her arm around him, then reached for Sergenor’s hand. He jerked it back.

  “He only needs to smell it,” Ayla said, “so he becomes familiar with you. It’s the way wolves meet each other.”

  “Did you do this, Kimeran?” Sergenor said, noticing that most of his Cave and their visitors were watching.

  “Yes, in fact I did. Last summer, when they went to the Third Cave to hunt before the Summer Meeting. Afterward, whenever I saw the wolf at the Meeting, I had the feeling that he recognized me, though he ignored me,” Kimeran said.

  He didn’t really want to, but with all the people watching, Sergenor was feeling pressed to comply. He didn’t want anyone to think that he was afraid to do what the younger leader had already done. Slowly, tentatively, he stretched out his hand toward the animal. Ayla took it and brought it to the animal’s nose. Wolf wrinkled his nose and, with his mouth closed, bared his teeth so that his large carnassial shearing teeth showed, in what Jondalar always thought of as his feeling-full-of-himself grin. But that wasn’t how Sergenor saw it. Ayla could feel him shaking, and noticed the sour smell of his fear. She knew Wolf did, too.

  “Wolf won’t hurt you, I promise,” Ayla said softly, under her breath. Sergenor gritted his teeth, forcing himself to hold steady while the wolf brought his tooth-filled mouth close to his hand. Wolf sniffed, then licked.

  “What’s he doing?” Sergenor said. “Trying to see what I taste like?”

  “No, I think he’s trying to calm you, like he would a puppy. Here, touch his head.” She moved his hand away from the sharp teeth, and was speaking in a soothing voice. “Have you ever felt the fur of a living wolf? Do you notice that behind his ears and around his neck, the fur is a little thicker and rougher? He likes being rubbed behind his ears.” When she finally let go, the man moved his hand away and held it in his other hand.

  “Now he will recognize you,” she said. She had never seen anyone so afraid of Wolf, or more brave in overcoming his fear. “Have you ever had any experience with wolves before?” she asked.

  “Once, when I was very young, I was bitten by a wolf. I don’t really remember, my mother told me about it, but I still have the scars,” Sergenor said.

  “That means the Wolf spirit chose you. The Wolf is your totem. That’s what the people who raised me would say.” She knew totems were not viewed the same way by the Zelandonii as they were by the Clan. Not everyone had one, but they were considered lucky by those who did. “I was clawed by a cave lion when I was young, when I could count perhaps five years. I still have the scars to show for it, and I still dream about it sometimes. It is not easy to live with a powerful totem like a Lion or a Wolf, but my totem has helped me, taught me many things,” Ayla said.

  Sergenor was intrigued, almost in spite of himself. “What did you learn from a cave lion?”

  “How to face my fears, for one thing,” she said. “I think you have learned to do the same. Your Wolf totem may have helped you without your knowing it.”

  “Perhaps, but how would you know if you have been helped by a totem? Has a Cave Lion Spirit really helped you?” Sergenor asked.

  “More than once. The four marks that the lion’s claw left on my leg, that is a Clan totem mark for a Cave Lion. Usually it is only a man who is given such a strong totem, but they were so clearly Clan marks, the leader accepted me even though I was born to the Others—that’s their name for people like us. I was very young when I lost my people. If the Clan hadn’t taken me in and raised me, I would not be alive now,” Ayla explained.

  “Interesting, but you said ‘more than once,’ ” Sergenor reminded her.

  “Another time, after I became a woman and the new young leader forced me to leave, I walked for a long time looking for the Others as my Clan mother, Iza, had told me to do before she died. But when I couldn’t find them, and I had to find a place to stay before winter came, my totem sent a pride of lions to make me change my direction, which led me to find a valley wh
ere I could survive. It was even my cave lion who led me to Jondalar,” Ayla said.

  The people who were standing around listening were fascinated with her story. Even Jondalar had never heard her explain her totem in quite that way. One of them spoke out.

  “And these people who took you in, the ones you call the Clan, are they really Flatheads?”

  “That’s your name for them. They call themselves the Clan, the Clan of the Cave Bear, because they all venerate the Spirit of the Cave Bear. He is the totem of all of them, the Clan totem,” Ayla said.

  “I think it’s time to let these travelers know where they can put down their sleeping rolls and get settled so they can share a meal with us,” said a woman who had just arrived. She was a pleasantly round, attractive woman with the glint of intelligence and spirit in her eyes.

  Sergenor smiled with warm affection. “This is my mate, Jayvena of the Seventh Cave of the Zelandonii,” he said to Ayla. “Jayvena, this is Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii. She has many more names and ties, but I’ll let her tell you.”

  “But not now,” Jayvena said. “In the name of the Mother, welcome, Ayla of the Ninth Cave. I’m sure you would rather get settled now than recite names and ties.”

  As they were starting to leave, Sergenor touched Ayla’s arm and looked at her, then said, quietly, “I sometimes dream of wolves.” She smiled.

  As they were leaving, a voluptuous young woman with dark brown hair approached, holding two children in her arms, a dark-haired boy and a blond girl. She smiled at Kimeran, who lightly brushed her cheek with his, then turned to the visitors. “You met my mate, Beladora, last summer, didn’t you?” he said, adding in a voice filled with pride, “and her son and daughter, the children of my hearth?”

  Ayla recalled meeting the woman briefly the summer before, though she hadn’t had a chance to get to know her. She knew that Beladora had given birth to her two-born-together at the Summer Meeting around the time of the First Matrimonial, when she and Jondalar were mated. Everyone had been talking about it. That meant the two would soon be able to count one year, she thought.

  “Yes, of course,” Jondalar said, bestowing a smile on the woman and her twins, then without really being aware of it, paying closer attention to the attractive young mother, his vivid blue eyes full of appreciation. She smiled back. Kimeran moved closer and put an arm around her waist.

  Ayla was adept at reading body language, but she thought anyone could have understood what had just transpired. Jondalar found Beladora attractive, and couldn’t help showing it, just as she couldn’t help responding to him. Jondalar was unaware of his own charisma, didn’t even realize he projected it, but Beladora’s mate was very aware of it. Without saying a word, Kimeran had stepped in and made his claim known.

  Ayla observed the byplay and was so intrigued that even though Jondalar was her mate, she didn’t feel any jealousy. She did, however, begin to appreciate the comments she had been hearing about him ever since they had arrived. At a deeper level she knew that Jondalar was only appreciating; he had no desire to do more than look. There was another side to him, one that he rarely showed even to her, and then only when they were alone.

  Jondalar’s emotions had always been too strong, his passions too great. All his life he had struggled to control them and had finally managed only by learning to keep his feelings to himself. It was not easy for him to show the full intensity of his feelings. That was why he never displayed publicly the depth of his love for her, but sometimes when they were alone he couldn’t control it. It was so powerful, it sometimes overwhelmed him.

  When Ayla turned her head, she noticed Zelandoni Who Was First observing her, and understood that she, too, had been aware of the unspoken interactions and was trying to judge her response. Ayla gave her a knowing smile, then turned her attention to her baby, who was squirming in her carrying blanket, trying to find a way to nurse. She approached the handsome young mother who was standing beside Jayvena.

  “Greetings, Beladora. I am glad to see you, especially with your children,” she said. “Jonayla has soaked her padding. I brought some extra to replace it; would you show me where I can change it?”

  The woman with a baby on each hip smiled. “Come with me,” she said, and the three women started toward the shelter.

  Beladora had heard people talk about Ayla’s unusual accent, but she hadn’t really heard her speak before. She was in labor during the Matrimonial when Jondalar mated his foreign woman, and she’d had little occasion to talk to Ayla later. She was busy with her own concerns, but now she knew what they meant. Though Ayla spoke Zelandonii very well, she just couldn’t make some of the sounds exactly right, but Beladora was rather pleased to hear her. She had come from a region far to the south, and though her speech wasn’t as unusual as Ayla’s, she spoke Zelandonii with her own distinctive accent.

  Ayla smiled when she heard her talk. “I think you were not born a Zelandonii,” she said. “Just as I was not.”

  “My people are known as the Giornadonii. We are neighbors of a Cave of Zelandonii far south of here, where it’s much warmer.” Beladora smiled. “I met Kimeran when he traveled with his sister on her Donier Tour.”

  Ayla wondered what a “Donier Tour” was. Obviously, it had something to do with being a Zelandoni, since “donier” was another word for One Who Served The Great Mother, but Ayla decided she would ask the First later.

  The fire’s lambent flames cast a comforting ruddy glow beyond the confines of the oblong hearth that contained it, and painted a warm dancing light on the limestone walls of the abri. The rock ceiling of the overhanging ledge above the fire reflected the glowing hue down on the scene, giving the people a radiant look of well-being. A delicious communal meal that had taken many people a great deal of time and effort to prepare had been consumed, including a huge haunch of megaceros roasted on a sturdy spit stretched across large forked branches over that same extended rectangular firepit. Now the Seventh Cave of the Zelandonii along with many relatives from the Second Cave and their visitors from the Ninth and Third Caves were ready to relax.

  Beverages had been offered: several varieties of tea, a fermented fruity wine, and the alcoholic brew called barma made from birch sap, with additions of wild grains, honey, or various fruits. They had each taken a cup of their favorite drink, and were milling about, looking for a place to sit near the welcoming hearth. A heightened feeling of anticipation and delight permeated the group. Visitors always brought a bit of excitement, but the foreign woman with her animals and exotic stories promised to be more stimulating than usual.

  Ayla and Jondalar were in the midst of a group that included Joharran and Proleva, Sergenor and Jayvena, and Kimeran and Beladora, the leaders of the Ninth, Seventh and Second Caves, and several others, including Levela and Janida and their mates, Jondecam and Peridal. The leaders were discussing with the people of the Seventh Cave when the visitors should leave Horsehead Rock and go to Elder Hearth, with jocular asides, in a friendly rivalry with the Second Cave about where the visitors should stay the longest.

  “Elder Hearth is senior and should be higher ranking and accorded more prestige,” Kimeran said with a teasing grin. “So we should have them longer.”

  “Does that mean because I’m older than you, I should be accorded more prestige?” Sergenor countered with a telling smile. “I’ll remember that.”

  Ayla had been listening and smiling with the rest, but she had been wanting to ask a question. At a break in the conversation, she finally said, “Now that you have brought up the ages of the Caves, there is something I would like to know.” They all turned to look at her.

  “You have only to ask,” Kimeran said with exaggerated courtesy and friendliness that intimated the suggestion of more. He had drunk a few cups of barma and was noticing how attractive his tall friend’s mate was.

  “Last summer Manvelar was telling me a little about the counting-word names of each Cave, but I’m still confused,” Ayla said. “When we w
ent to the Summer Meeting last year, we stopped overnight at the Twenty-ninth Cave. They live at three separate shelters around a big valley, each with a leader and a zelandoni, but they are all called by the same counting word, the Twenty-ninth. The Second Cave is closely related to the Seventh Cave, and you live just across a valley, so why do you have a Cave with a different counting word? Why aren’t you part of the Second Cave?”

  “That’s one I can’t answer. I don’t know,” Kimeran said, then gestured toward the older man. “You’ll have to ask the more senior leader. Sergenor?”

  Sergenor smiled, but pondered the question for a moment. “To be honest, I don’t know, either. It never occurred to me before. And I don’t know of any Histories or Elder Legends that tell about it. There are some that tell stories of the original inhabitants of the region, the First Cave of the Zelandonii, but they have long since disappeared. No one even knows for sure where their shelter was.”

  “You do know that the Second Cave of the Zelandonii is the oldest settlement of Zelandonii still in existence?” Kimeran said, his voice slightly slurred. “That’s why it’s called Elder Hearth.”

  “Yes, I knew that,” she said, wondering if he would need the “morning after” drink she had concocted for Talut, the Mamutoi leader of the Lion Camp.

  “I’ll tell you what I think,” Sergenor said. “As the families of the First and Second Caves grew too large for their shelters, some of them, offshoots of both Caves as well as new people who had come into the region, moved farther away, taking the next counting words when they established a new Cave. By the time the group of people from the Second Cave who founded our Cave decided to move, the next unused counting word was ‘seven.’ They were mostly young families—some newly mated couples, the children of the Second Cave—and they wanted to stay close to their relatives, so they moved here, just across Sweet Valley, to make their new home. Even though the two Caves were so closely related, they were the same as one Cave, I think they chose a new number because that’s the way it was done. So we became two separate Caves: Elder Hearth, the Second Cave of the Zelandonii, and Horsehead Rock, the Seventh Cave. We are still just different branches of the same family.”