The Shelters of Stone

by Jean M. Auel

  “Can I try it?” Marthona said.

  “It does take a little practice to draw off a spark and make it land where you want, but it’s not hard to do,” Jondalar said, giving her the stone and the striker:

  “I’d like to try, too, when you’re done,” Willamar said.

  “You don’t have to wait,” Ayla said. “I’ll get the flint striker from my fire-starting kit and show you. I’ve been using the back of my knife, but I’ve already chipped it and I’d rather not break the blade.”

  Their first attempts were tentative and awkward, but with Ayla and Jondalar showing them the technique, both Marthona and Willamar began to get a feel for it. Willamar was the first to get a fire going, but then had trouble doing it a second time. Once Marthona made a fire, she had mastered the technique, but with practice and advice from the two experts, mixed with much laughter, it wasn’t long before both of them were drawing sparks from the stone and making fires with ease.

  Folara came home to find all four of them smiling with delight on their knees around the hearth, which held several little fires. Wolf came in with her. He’d grown tired of staying in one place all day with Ayla, and when he found Jaradal with Folara, who encouraged him, he couldn’t resist joining them. They were pleased to show off their acquaintance with the curiously friendly predator, and the association made him less threatening to the other people of the Cave.

  After Wolf greeted everyone appropriately and drank some water, he went to the corner near the entrance that he had claimed as his own and curled up to rest after a wonderfully tiring day with Jaradal and some of the other children.

  “What’s going on?” Folara said after the excitement of greetings, when she noticed the hearth. “Why do you have so many fires in the fireplace?”

  “We’ve been learning to make fire with stones,” Willamar said.

  “With Ayla’s firestone?” Folara said.

  “Yes. It’s so easy,” Marthona said.

  “I promised to show you, Folara. Would you like to try now?” Ayla said.

  “Have you really done it, mother?” Folara asked.

  “Of course.”

  “And you, too, Willamar?”

  “Yes. It takes some practice, but it’s not hard,” he said.

  “Well, I guess I can’t be the only one in the family who doesn’t know how,” Folara said.

  While Ayla was showing the young woman the finer points of making a fire with stones, with advice from Jondalar and the new expert, Willamar, Marthona used the existing fires to heat cooking stones. She filled her tea-making basket with water and began to slice some cold cooked bison meat. When the cooking stones were hot, she put several in the teapot basket, bringing forth a steaming cloud, then added a couple along with a bit more water to a container made of willow withes tightly interwoven with fibers attached to a wooden base. It contained vegetables that had been cooked that morning: daylily buds, cut pieces of the green stems of poke, elder shoots, thistle stems, burdock stems, coiled baby ferns, and lily corms, flavored with wild basil, elderberry flowers, and pignut roots for added spice.

  By the time Marthona had a light supper ready, Folara had added her small fire to the ones still burning in the hearth. Everyone got their own eating dishes and cups for tea and sat on cushions around the low table. After the meal, Ayla brought a bowl of leftovers and an extra piece of meat to Wolf, poured herself another cup of tea, and rejoined the others.

  “I want to know more about these firestones,” Willamar said. “I’ve never heard of people making fire like that before.”

  “Where did you learn to do that, Jondé?” Folara asked.

  “Ayla showed me,” Jondalar said.

  “Where did you learn, Ayla?” Folara said.

  “It wasn’t anything I learned or planned or thought about, it just happened.”

  “But how could something like that ‘just happen’?” Folara asked.

  Ayla took a sip of tea and closed her eyes to recall the event. “It was one of those days when everything seemed to go wrong,” she began. “My first winter in the valley was just beginning, the river was turning to ice, and my fire had gone out in the middle of the night. Whinney was still a baby and hyenas were nosing around my cave in the dark, but I couldn’t find my sling. I had to chase them off by throwing cooking stones. In the morning, I was going to cut wood to make a fire, but I dropped my axe and it broke. It was the only one I had, so I had to make a new one. Luckily, I had noticed that there were flint nodules in the heap of stones and animal bones that had piled up below the cave.

  “I went down to the rocky bank by the river to knap a new axe and some other tools. While I was working, I put my stone retoucher down, but my mind was on the flint and I picked up the wrong stone by mistake. It wasn’t my retoucher, it was a stone like this, and when I hit the flint with it, I got a spark. It made me think of fire, and I needed to make a fire, anyway, so I decided to try to make it with a spark from the stone. After a few tries, it worked.”

  “You make it sound so simple,” Marthona said, “but I’m not sure I would have tried to make a fire like that, even if I had seen a spark.”

  “I was alone in that valley, with no one to show me how to do things, or to tell me what couldn’t be done,” Ayla said. “I’d already hunted and killed a horse, which was against Clan traditions, and then adopted her foal, which the Clan would never have allowed. I’d done so many things I wasn’t supposed to do that by then I was ready to try any idea that came to me.”

  “Do you have many of these firestones?” Willamar asked.

  “There were a lot of firestones on that rocky beach,” Jondalar answered. “Before we left the valley for the last time, we gathered as many as we could find. We gave a few away on our Journey, but I tried to save as many as I could for people here. We never found any more of them along the way.”

  “That’s too bad,” the Trade Master said. “It would have been nice to share them, perhaps even to trade them.”

  “But we can!” Jondalar said. “Ayla found some this morning, in Wood River Valley, just before we went to the meeting. It’s the first time I’ve seen any since we left her valley.”

  “You found more? Here? Where?” Willamar asked.

  “At the foot of a little waterfall,” Ayla said.

  “If there are some in one little place, there may be more close by,” Jondalar added.

  “That’s true,” Willamar said. “How many people have you told about these firestones?”

  “I haven’t had time to tell anyone, but Zelandoni knows,” Jondalar said. “Folara told her.”

  “Who told you?” Marthona asked her.

  “Ayla did, or rather I saw her use one,” Folara explained. “Yesterday, when you came home, Willamar.”

  “But, she didn’t see it herself?” Willamar asked, a grin starting.

  “I don’t think so,” Folara said.

  “This is going to be fun. I can’t wait to show her!” Willamar said. “She is going to be so astounded, but she won’t want to show it.”

  “It will be fun,” Jondalar said, also grinning. “It’s not easy to surprise that woman.”

  “That’s because she knows so much,” Marthona said. “But you’ve already impressed her more than you realize, Ayla.”

  “That’s true,” Willamar said. “They both have. Have you two got any more surprises tucked away that you haven’t told us about?”

  “Well, I think you’re going to be amazed by the spear-thrower we’re going to demonstrate tomorrow, and you can’t imagine how good Ayla is with a sling,” Jondalar said. “And though it might not mean too much to you, I’ve learned some exciting new flint-knapping techniques. Even Dalanar was impressed.”

  “If Dalanar was impressed, I have to be,” Willamar said.

  “And then there’s the thread-puller,” Ayla said.

  “Thread-puller?” Marthona said.

  “Yes, for sewing. I just couldn’t learn how to pull a tiny cord or a s
inew thread through a hole that was punched with an awl. Then I had an idea, but the whole Lion Camp helped to make the first one. If you like, I’ll get my sewing kit and show you,” Ayla said.

  “Do you think it would help someone whose eyes can’t see the holes as well as they once could?” Marthona asked.

  “I think so,” Ayla said. “Let me get it.”

  “Why don’t you wait until tomorrow, when there’s more light. It’s not as easy to see in firelight as it is in sunlight,” Marthona said. “But I would like to see it.”

  “Well, Jondalar, you have certainly caused some excitement around here,” Willamar said. “Just your return would have been enough, but you brought back much more than yourself. I’ve always said travel opens new possibilities, advances new ideas.”

  “I think you’re right, Willamar,” Jondalar said. “But I’ll tell you truthfully, I’m tired of traveling. I’m going to be content to stay home for a long time.”

  “You’re going to the Summer Meeting, aren’t you, Jondé?” Folara asked.

  “Of course. We’re going to be mated there, little sister,” Jondalar said, putting his arm around Ayla. “Going to the Summer Meeting isn’t really traveling, especially after the Journey we made. Going to the Summer Meeting is part of being home. Which reminds me, Willamar, since Joharran is planning an extra hunt before we go, do you know where we can get disguises? Ayla wants to hunt, too, and we both need them.”

  “I’m sure we can find something. I have an extra set of antlers, if we go after red deer. Many people have skins and other things,” the Trade Master said.

  “What are disguises?” Ayla asked.

  “We cover ourselves with hides, and sometimes wear anders or horns so we can get closer to a herd. Animals are leery of people, so we try to make them think we’re animals,” Willamar explained.

  “Jondalar, maybe we could take the horses, like the time Whinney and I helped the Mamutoi hunt bison,” Ayla said, then looked at Willamar. “When we’re on horseback, animals don’t see us, they see the horses. We get very close, and with the spear-thowers, even with just two of us, and Wolf, we’ve been very successful.”

  “Using your animals to help hunt animals? You didn’t mention that when I asked if you had any more surprises tucked away. Did you think that wouldn’t be amazing?” Willamar said with a smile.

  “I have a feeling even they don’t know all the surprises they have in store for us,” Marthona commented, then, after a pause, “Would anyone like a little more chamomile tea before going to bed?” She glanced at Ayla. “I find it very soothing and relaxing, and you were put through quite an interrogation today. These Clan people have much more to them than I ever imagined.”

  Folara’s ears pricked up at that. Everyone had been talking about the long meeting, and her friends had been after her to give them a hint, assuming she would know. She had told them that she didn’t know any more than anyone else, but she managed to imply that she just couldn’t say what she knew. At least now she had some idea about the subject of the meeting. She listened closely as the conversation continued.

  “ … they seem to have many fine qualities,” Marthona was saying. “They care for their sick, and their leader seemed to have the best interests of his people foremost. The knowledge of their medicine woman must have been quite extensive, if Zelandoni’s reaction is any indication, and I have a feeling she will want to know more about their spiritual leader. I think she would have liked to ask you many more questions, Ayla, but held back. Joharran was more interested in the people and their way of life.”

  There was a settling in, a moment of silence. Gazing at Marthona’s beautiful home in the subdued mellow light cast by the fire in the hearth and the oil-burning lamps, Ayla noticed more aesthetic details. The dwelling complemented the woman and reminded Ayla of the feeling of elegance with which Ranec had arranged his living space in the Lion Camp longhouse. He was an artist, a fine carver, and he had taken the time to explain to her his feelings and ideas about creating and appreciating beauty, for himself and in homage to the Great Earth Mother. She felt that Marthona must have some of the same feeling.

  Sipping warm tea, Ayla watched Jondalar’s family as they relaxed quietly around the low table, and she felt a sense of peace and contentment she hadn’t known before. These were people she could understand, people like her, and at that moment it struck her that she truly was one of the Others. Then she had a sudden picture of the cave of Brun’s clan where she grew up, and the contrast astounded her.

  Among the Zelandonii, each family had individual dwellings with screens and walls separating the living units. Voices and sounds could be heard from within the dwellings, which by custom were ignored, but each family had visual privacy. The Mamutoi had also defined areas within the Lion Camp’s earthlodge for each family, with drapes that assured visual privacy, if it was desired.

  In the cave of her clan, the boundaries of each family’s living space were known, even if not defined with anything more than a few strategically placed stones. Privacy was a matter of social practice; one did not look directly into the hearth of one’s neighbor, did not “see” beyond the invisible boundary. The Clan was good at not seeing what they were not supposed to see. Ayla recalled with a wrenching ache the way even those who loved her had simply stopped seeing her when she was cursed with death.

  The Zelandonii also defined the spaces within and outside the dwellings, with places for sleeping, cooking and eating, and various work projects. Within the Clan, areas for different activities were not as precisely located. Generally, sleeping places were made and a hearth located, but for the most part, the division of space was a matter of custom, habit, and behavior. They were mental and social divisions, not physical ones. Women avoided places where men were working, men stayed away from the women’s activities, and work projects were often done where it was convenient at the time.

  The Zelandonii seem to have more time to do things than the Clan, Ayla was thinking. They all seem to make so many things, and not just necessary things. Maybe it’s the way they hunt that makes the difference. She was lost in thought and didn’t hear a question that had been put to her.

  “Ayla? … Ayla!” Jondalar said loudly.

  “Oh! I’m sorry, Jondalar. What did you say?”

  “What were you thinking about that you didn’t even hear me?”

  “I was thinking about the differences between the Others and the Clan, and I was wondering why the Zelandonii seem to make more things than the Clan did,” Ayla said.

  “Did you come up with an answer?” Marthona asked.

  “I don’t know, but maybe different ways of hunting might have something to do with it,” Ayla said. “When Brun and his hunters went out, they usually brought back a whole animal, sometimes two. The Lion Camp could count about the same number of people as Brun’s clan, but when they hunted, everyone who could went out, men, women, even some children, if only for the drive. They usually killed many animals and brought back only the best and richest parts, and saved most of the meat for winter. I don’t recall a time that either starved, but by the end of winter, the Clan was often left with only the leanest and least filling food, and sometimes had to hunt in spring when animals were thin. The Lion Camp ran out of some foods, and were hungry for greens, but they seemed to eat well even in late spring.”

  “That may be something to mention to Joharran, later,” Willamar said, yawning às he got up. “But right now, I’m going to bed. We’re likely to have a busy day tomorrow, too.”

  Marthona got up from the cushions when Willamar did and carried the serving dishes into the cooking room.

  Folara stood up, stretching and yawning in a way that was so similar to Willamar, Ayla smiled at the resemblance. “I’m going to bed, too. I’ll help you clean those dishes in the morning, mother,” she said, wiping out her wooden eating bowl with a small piece of soft deerskin before putting it away. “I’m too tired now.”

  “Are you going hunt
ing, Folara?” Jondalar asked.

  “I haven’t decided. I’ll see how I feel later,” she replied, heading for her sleeping room.

  After Marthona and Willamar went into their sleeping space, Jondalar moved aside the low table and spread out their sleeping furs. As they settled into them, Wolf came to sleep beside Ayla. He didn’t mind staying out of the way when people were around, but when Ayla went to bed, he felt his place was beside her.

  “I really like your family, Jondalar,” Ayla said. “I think I’m going to like living with the Zelandonii. I was thinking about what you said last night, and you’re right. I shouldn’t judge everyone by a few unpleasant people.”

  “Don’t judge everyone by the best, either,” Jondalar said. “You never know how people will react to something. I’d take them one at a time.”

  “I think everyone has some good and some bad,” Ayla said. “Some have a little more of one than the other. I always hope people will have more good than bad, and I like to believe most do. Remember Frebec? He was really nasty in the beginning, but in the end, he turned out to be nice.”

  “I have to admit, he surprised me,” Jondalar said, snuggling close to her and nuzzling her neck.

  “You don’t surprise me, though,” she said, smiling as she felt his hand between her thighs. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “I hope you’re thinking the same thing,” he said. As she reached up to kiss him, she returned the gesture. “And I think maybe you are.”

  The kiss was long and lingering. They both felt their desire grow, but there was no rush, no need to hurry. They were home, Jondalar thought. Through all the difficulties of the long and dangerous Journey, he had brought her home with him. Now she was safe, the dangers were over. He stopped and looked down at her, and felt so much love for her, he didn’t know if he could contain it.