by Jean M. Auel
“Most of the afternoon. I imagine they will be back soon,” Proleva said. “Dalanar did ask me to remind you that the Lanzadonii are expecting you this evening.”
“That’s right! He did ask when I was on my way to the meeting. I think I’ll change clothes, and rest for a while. It’s hard to believe that just sitting around at a meeting can make you so tired. Will you send Jonayla in to get me when she gets here?”
“Of course I will,” Proleva said. It was a lot more than just a meeting, I’m sure, she thought. “Would you like something to eat? Maybe a little tea?”
“Yes, I think I would, Proleva, but I’d like to clean up a little first. I’d love to go for a swim … but I guess I should wait until later. I think I’ll go check on Whinney first.”
“They took her with them. Jondalar said she’d want to go with the other horses, and the run wouldn’t hurt her.”
“He’s right. Whinney probably missed her children, too.”
Proleva watched Ayla walk toward the sleeping lodge. She does look tired, the woman thought. Not surprising. Look what she’s been through. Having a miscarriage, and now becoming our newest Zelandoni … and getting her call, whatever that really means.
The woman had seen the effects of getting too close to the spirit world. Everyone had. Anytime someone was seriously hurt, for example, or even more frightening, had an inexplicable critical illness, she knew they were near the next world. The idea that a person would purposely put themselves in contact with that world so that they could Serve The Mother was almost beyond her comprehension. Proleva felt a slight shudder. She was grateful that she would never have to go through such a harrowing experience. While she knew that someday everyone would have to move on to that fearful place, she had no desire whatever to join the ranks of the zelandonia.
She and Jondalar are having problems, too, Proleva thought. He’s been avoiding her. I’ve watched him go the other way as soon as he sees her. I’m sure I know what his problem is. He’s feeling ashamed. She caught him with Marona, and now he doesn’t want to face her. This is not a good time for him to be avoiding Ayla. She needs everyone’s help now, especially his.
If he didn’t want Ayla to know about Marona, he shouldn’t have started up with her again, even if she was encouraging him every way she could. He knew how Ayla would feel about her. He could have found some other woman, if he had to have one. It’s not like he still couldn’t have his pick of just about any woman in the whole camp. And it would have served that Marona woman right. She’s so obvious, you’d think even he would see it.
As much as Proleva cared about him, there were times when her mate’s younger brother exasperated her.
“Mother! Mother! Are you finally back? Proleva said you were here. You said we would go for a ride today, and I was waiting and waiting,” Jonayla said. The wolf, who bounded in after her, was just as excited, trying to get Ayla’s attention.
She gave the girl a big hug, then grabbed the head of the big carnivore and started to rub his face with hers, but her marks were feeling sore, so she just hugged him. He started to sniff her wound, but she pushed him away. He looked into his food dish instead, found a bone Proleva had left there earlier, and took it to his resting place.
“I’m sorry, Jonayla,” Ayla said. “I didn’t know the meeting with the zelandonia would take so long. I promise we’ll do it another day, but it may not be tomorrow.”
“It’s all right, mother. The zelandonia do take a long time. They spent a whole day teaching us songs and dances and stuff, showing us where to stand and what steps to make. I did get to go riding anyway. Jondy took me.”
“Proleva told me. I’m glad he did. I know how much you wanted to go,” Ayla said.
“Does that hurt, mother?” Jonayla asked, pointing to Ayla’s forehead.
Ayla was slightly taken aback that her daughter had noticed. “No, not now. It did a little at first, but not bad. That mark has a special meaning …”
“I know what it means,” the girl said. “It means you’re Zelandoni now.”
“That’s right, Jonayla.”
“Jondy told me you won’t have to be gone so much after you get a zelandoni mark. Is that true, mother?”
Ayla hadn’t realized how much her daughter had missed her, and she felt a rush of gratitude that Jondalar had been there to take care of her, and explain things to her. She reached out to hug the child. “Yes, it’s true. I will still have to be gone sometimes, but not as much.”
Maybe Jondalar missed her, too, but why did he have to turn to Marona? He said he loved her, even after she found them like that, but if he did, why was he staying away from her now?
“Why are you crying, mother?” the girl said. “Are you sure that mark doesn’t hurt? It looks sore.”
“I’m just so glad to see you, Jonayla.” She let go of the child, but smiled at her through wet eyes. “I almost forgot to tell you. We are going to visit the Lanzadonii camp and have a meal with them tonight.”
“With Dalanar and Bokovan?”
“That’s right, and Echozar and Joplaya, and Jerika, and everybody.”
“Is Jondy coming?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t think so. He had to go someplace else.” Suddenly Ayla turned aside and seeing Jonayla’s clothing basket, started going through it. She didn’t want her daughter to see her in tears again. “It will get cold after it gets dark; would you like to change into something warmer?”
“Can I wear the new tunic that Folara made for me?”
“That would be a good idea, Jonayla.”
35
At first glance, in the distance, Ayla thought it was Jondalar carrying something, coming toward her along the well-worn main path between the camps of several friendly Caves. She felt her stomach tightening to a knot. The height, the shape of the body, the walk were so familiar, but as the man approached, she saw it was Dalanar, carrying Bokovan.
As soon as they neared, Dalanar saw the obvious black marks on her forehead. Ayla noted Dalanar’s look of surprise when he first saw her, then his effort to avoid looking at her forehead, and remembered her marks. She didn’t see them, and tended to forget them.
Is that why Jondalar is behaving so strangely? Dalanar wondered. When he had invited Jondalar to join the Lanzadonii for a meal, along with Ayla and Jonayla, Dalanar had been surprised by Jondalar’s hesitation, and then refusal. He claimed he had already promised to be some other place, but he looked upset and embarrassed. It was as though he were looking for excuses not to join them this evening. He recalled his own reasons for leaving a woman he loved. But I didn’t think Jondalar was bothered by her becoming zelandoni, the older man thought. He always seems to be proud of her skill as a healer, and content to be working the flint and training his apprentices.
“Would you let me carry you for a while, Bokovan? And give Dalanar a rest?” Ayla said, holding out her arms to him, and smiling. The youngster hesitated, them held out his arms to her. She remembered how much he weighed when she picked him up. Ayla, carrying Bokovan, walked alongside Dalanar, who was holding Jonayla’s hand as they headed toward his camp. Wolf followed along behind.
The animal seemed to be perfectly comfortable wandering through the large Camp of people now, and none of the people appeared particularly concerned about him. Ayla had noticed, however, that the Zelandonii took a special delight in the reactions of visitors or strangers who were not accustomed to seeing a wolf mingle so freely with people.
When they arrived, Joplaya and Jerika came to greet her, and Ayla noticed their look of surprise, and not-quite-successful attempt to ignore her new forehead marks. Although there was still an air of sadness about the beautiful dark-haired young woman, whom Jondalar called cousin, Ayla noticed a smile of warm love light up her vivid green eyes as she took her son. Joplaya seemed more relaxed, more accepting of her life, and genuinely pleased to see Ayla.
Jerika also greeted her warmly. “Let me take Bokovan,” she said, taking the child from
his mother’s arms. “I have some food ready for him. You and Ayla can visit.”
Ayla spoke directly to the boy. “I am glad I met you, Bokovan. Will you come to visit me? I’m from the Ninth Cave. Do you know where it is?”
He stared at her for a while, then with great seriousness, he said, “Yeth.”
Ayla could not help but notice both the similarities and the differences between Jerika, Joplaya, and Bokovan before his grandmother took him away. The older woman was short and sturdy, her movements quick and energetic. Her hair, once as dark as the night sky, was now showing sunset streaks of gray. Her face, round and flat with high cheekbones, was more wrinkled, but her black slanted eyes still sparkled with charm and wit.
Ayla remembered Hochaman, the man who had been mated to Jerika’s mother. He had been the traveler, and his mate had chosen to go along with him. Jerika was born along the way. Ayla recalled Dalanar telling the S’Armunai visitor about Hochaman’s long Journey, from the Endless Seas of the East all the way to the Great Waters of the West, with pride. It occurred to her that even though the truth was exceptional in itself, it was the kind of story that would be told and retold, probably growing with each telling until it became a legend or myth, with little resemblance to the original story.
Dalanar had met Jerika some time after he found his flint mine and had been at first intrigued and then captivated by the exotic woman. Several people had already gathered around Dalanar and his flint mine—beginning the nucleus of the Cave that would later be called the Lanzadonii—when Hochaman and Jerika arrived at his camp. They looked so unusual, it was obvious they had come from a great distance. Dalanar had never seen anyone like Jerika. She was tiny in comparison with most women, but intelligent and strong minded, and he was captivated by the exotic young woman. It had taken someone that unusual to finally vanquish his great love for Marthona.
Joplaya was born to Dalanar’s hearth. Ayla now knew that what she had long believed was true; Joplaya was as much Dalanar’s child as she was Jerika’s. But Jondalar had not gone to live with the Lanzadonii until he and Joplaya were both adolescents. They had not been raised together as sister and brother and Joplaya had fallen hopelessly in love with Jondalar, even though he was a “close cousin,” an unmatable man.
Joplaya is as much his sister as Folara, Ayla thought, trying to sort out what the new relationships would mean. Jondalar and Folara are both children of Marthona, and Jondalar and Joplaya are both Dalanar’s children. You can see him in both of them.
Jondalar was a younger replica of Dalanar, while Joplaya showed more of her mother’s influence, but she was tall like Dalanar, and a more subtle contribution showed in other ways. Her hair was dark, but had light highlights. It was not the pure glossy sheen her mother’s had been. Her face had the contours of Dalanar’s people, with her mother’s high cheekbones. But her most stunning feature was her eyes. Neither black like her mother’s nor vivid blue like Dalanar’s—and Jondalar’s—Joplaya’s eyes were a vivid green with accents of hazel, with a shape and epicanthic fold like her mother, but less pronounced. Jerika was obviously a foreigner, but in many ways Joplaya seemed more exotic than her mother because of her similarities.
Joplaya had decided to mate with Echozar because she knew she could never have the man she loved. She chose him, she once told Ayla, because she knew she’d never find a man who would love her more, and she was right. Echozar was one of “mixed spirits”—his mother had been Clan, and many people thought he was as ugly as Joplaya was beautiful. But not Ayla. She was sure Echozar looked the way her son would, when he grew up.
Bokovan exhibited all of the components of his unusual background. The physical strength of the Clan from Echozar along with the height of his mother, and Dalanar, were already obvious. His eyes were only slightly slanted and dark, nearly as dark as Jerika’s, but not exactly black. Touches of a lighter shade or a reflective sparkle gave them a vivid quality she had never seen in such dark eyes. They were not only unusual, they were compelling. She sensed something special about Bokovan and wished the Lanzadonii lived closer; she would love to watch him grow up.
He was only a little younger than her son had been the last time she saw him, and he reminded her so much of Durc it almost hurt. Ayla wondered what kind of mind he would have. Would he have some aspect of the Clan memories along with the capacity to make art and speak with words? Like Dalanar’s and Jerika’s people? She had often thought about her son in the same way.
“Bokovan is a very special child, Joplaya,” Ayla said. “When he’s a little older, I wish you would consider sending him to the Ninth Cave for me to keep for a while.”
“Why?” Joplaya asked.
“Partly because he may have some unique qualities that could lead to the zelandonia, and you might want to know about that, but mostly because I would love to get to know him better,” Ayla said.
Joplaya smiled, then paused. “Would you be willing to send Jonayla to the Lanzadonii to stay with me for a while?”
“I never thought about it,” Ayla said, “but that might be a good idea … in a few years … if she’d be willing to go. Why do you want her?”
“I’ll never have a girl. I’ll never have another child. It was too hard on me giving birth to Bokovan,” Joplaya said.
Ayla remembered the difficulty she had giving birth to her son Durc, the one born to the Clan, and she had heard about Joplaya’s problems. “Are you sure, Joplaya? One difficult birth doesn’t mean they all will be.”
“Our Donier says she doesn’t think I should try. She’s afraid I would die. I came very close with Bokovan. I am taking the medicine that you gave the zelandonia—and mother tries to make sure I take it. I do it to please her, but even if I didn’t, I don’t think it would matter. I don’t think I can get pregnant again. In spite of mother, I stopped taking the medicine for a while. I wanted another child, but Doni chose not to Bless me,” Joplaya said.
Ayla didn’t want to pry, but as a Zelandoni she felt she had to ask, especially now. “Do you honor the Mother frequently? It is important, if you want the Mother to Bless you, that you honor Her properly.”
Joplaya smiled. “Echozar is a sweet and loving man. He may not be the one I wanted, Ayla …” She paused, and for a fleeting moment a look of desolation darkened her expression. Ayla matched it with one of her own, for an entirely different reason. “But I was right when I said no one could love me more than Echozar, and I have truly come to care for him. In the beginning, he could hardly bring himself to touch me, out of fear that he would somehow hurt me, and because, I think, he couldn’t quite believe he had the right. We are beyond that now, although he still acts so grateful sometimes, I have to tease him out of it. He’s even learning to laugh at himself. I think Doni is properly honored.”
Ayla thought for a while. It was possible that the problem wasn’t Joplaya’s, but Echozar’s. He was half Clan, and there could be a reason why a man who was Clan, or even just part, might experience some problem having a child with one of the Others. One child could have been just luck, though some would call him “abomination,” not luck. She wasn’t sure how often someone of the Clan actually coupled with one of the Others, or how many of the offspring lived, or were allowed to live.
Everyone knew about those with mixed spirits, but she hadn’t seen very many. She stopped to consider them: There was her son, Durc, and Ura at the Clan Gathering. Rydag of the Mamutoi Lion Camp. Possibly Attaroa and others among the S’Armunai had Clan mixed in. Echozar was half, and of course, there was Bokovan. It was likely Brukeval’s mother had been half, too, which accounted for his characteristic look.
She was going to ask how well the Mother was honored at ceremonies and festivals among the Lanzadonii. They were still a small group, although there had been some talk, she knew, about where they would locate a second Cave, sometime in the future. It occurred to her that perhaps she ought to talk to their Zelandoni first. After all, she was one of the zelandonia and ought to discuss such thi
ngs with another Zelandoni. Perhaps I should consult with the First. She may have some thoughts on the matter, Ayla thought.
Echozar arrived at the camp then and the subject changed. She was glad for the chance to stop trying to be Zelandoni and just be a friend. He gave her a broad smile, which still startled her somewhat on a face so strongly Clan. An expression that bared the teeth had a different meaning in the clan she grew up with.
“Ayla! How good to see you!” Echozar said as they embraced. He too had noticed the fresh mark on her forehead, and though he understood what it meant, he had been adopted by Dalanar’s people, and it didn’t affect him quite the same way. He knew she was an acolyte, and expected her to become a Zelandoni someday. He might have commented on it, but he’d been exposed to more than his share of comment about the way he looked, and was reluctant to bring up any aspect of another person’s appearance.
“And here’s the wolf,” he said, feeling just a touch of apprehension when Wolf sniffed him. The Lanzadonii were not as familiar with the animal, and though he did remember him, it took a while to get used to the idea of a wolf mingling freely with people. “I heard he was here; that’s how I knew you had arrived. I was afraid we wouldn’t see you after making the trip all the way here. Some of us were even considering going to the Ninth Cave to see you before we left. Your Mamutoi kin and their S’Armunai friend are definitely planning to go, and some of the Lanzadonii were thinking of going along,” Echozar said.
Ayla thought he seemed much more confident and relaxed, and was sure Dalanar was right about how helpful it had been for Echozar to be accepted so easily by Danug and Druwez and—what was his name—Aldanor? She was sure Jondalar had welcomed him, too, along with their kin and and several close friends. Jondalar would be very good about making Echozar feel welcome … but he hadn’t said one single welcoming word to her. The only time she had seen him since she arrived was in the small woods, standing naked with Marona. Ayla had to look away to fight back the sudden tightness in her throat and sting of impending tears, feelings that seemed to come upon her at the most unexpected moments, lately. She said she had something in her eye.
