by Jean M. Auel
“How did you develop this spear-thrower, Jondalar?” Joharran asked. It had been his turn to try, and he still had the thrower in his hand.
“Watching Ayla throw a stone with that sling made me wish I could throw a spear like that. In fact, my first tries were with a kind of sling, but then I realized I needed something stiffer, less flexible. Eventually, I came up with this idea,” Jondalar explained. “But at that time, I didn’t know what you could really do with one. It takes practice, as you can guess by now, but we have even learned to use them from horseback. Now that you’ve had a chance to try them, maybe we should give you a real demonstration. Too bad we didn’t bring the horses, but at least I can give you a better idea of their range.”
Several spears had been retrieved from the targets. Jondalar picked one up, took the thrower from Joharran, and walked back a few feet. He sighted toward the targets, but instead of aiming directly for the hay bundles, he gave it as hard a cast as he could. The spear sailed over the bundles, going more than half again the distance before landing in the distant grass. Sounds of amazement could be heard.
Ayla went next, and though she didn’t have quite the power of the tall, muscular man, her spear fell only a little short of Jondalar’s. Ayla’s physical strength was greater than that of most women; it was the result of her upbringing. The people of the Clan were stronger and more robust than the Others. For her to keep up with them, to simply perform the ordinary work that was expected of Clan women and girls as she grew up, she had had to develop stronger bones and more muscle power than was normal for her kind.
As the spears were gathered, the people talked about the new weapon they had just seen. Casting a spear with a spear-thrower did not appear to be much different from throwing a spear by hand. The difference was in the results. It flew more than twice as far and with much greater force. That was the aspect most discussed, because it was immediately understood how much safer it would be to throw a spear from a greater distance.
Hunting accidents, while not common, were also not rare. More than one hunter had been maimed or killed by a pain-maddened, wounded animal. The question was how long and how much effort it would take to gain, if not the level of expertise displayed by Jondalar and Ayla, at least enough skill to use the spear-thrower competently. Some seemed to feel that they already had adequate techniques to hunt effectively, but some, especially the younger ones who were still learning, were more interested.
At first glance, the new weapon seemed so simple, and in fact it was. But it was based on principles that, although understood intuitively, would not be codified until much later. The spear-thrower was a handle, a unique detachable handle that utilized the mechanical advantage of leverage to add impetus to a spear, making it fly much farther and faster than a spear thrown with just an arm.
People had been using handles of various kinds for as long as they could remember, and any handle would amplify the force of muscles. For example, a sharp chip of stone—flint, jasper, chert, quartz, obsidian—was a cutting tool when held in the hand, but a handle multiplied the force that could be applied to the edge, increasing the effectiveness of the knife and giving the user more control.
But the spear-thrower was more than a new use of principles that were innately known. It was an example of an inborn characteristic of people like Jondalar and Ayla that made their survival more likely: the ability to conceive of an idea and turn into a useful object, to take an abstract thought and make it real. That was their greatest Gift, though they didn’t even recognize it for what it was.
The visitors spent the rest of the afternoon discussing strategies for the upcoming hunt. They decided to go after the herd of bison that had been sighted, since there were more animals in that group. Jondalar mentioned again that he thought they could hunt both the bison and the giant deer, but he didn’t press the matter. Ayla said nothing, deciding to wait and see. The visitors were fed another meal and urged to stay the night. Some people chose to stay, but Joharran had some things he wanted to prepare before the hunt, and he had promised Kareja to stop for a short visit with the Eleventh Cave on the way back.
It was still light, though the sun was falling in the west when the Ninth Cave started down the path. When they reached the relatively flat stretch of land near the bank of The River, Ayla turned and looked up again at the multiple levels of shelflike shelters of Two Rivers Rock. Some people were waving at them with a beckoning “come-back” gesture that was used by many people. She noticed that the visitors waved back with a similar motion; theirs meant “come-and-visit.”
Walking near the bank, they followed the cliff around to the right, back toward the north. As they continued upstream, the rock wall on their side of The River became less and less high. Near the lowest part at the bottom of a slope they saw a stone shelter. Slightly farther back and up the slope, perhaps one hundred twenty feet away, was a second abri, but stretching more or less continually along the same terrace level. A small cave could also be seen nearby. The two shelters, the cave, and the long terrace constituted the living site of another community in this densely populated regional settlement—the Eleventh Cave of the Zelandonii.
Kareja and the people of the Eleventh Cave had left Two Rivers Rock before the Ninth, and the leader was standing beside Zelandoni of the Eleventh as the group approached, waiting to greet them. Seeing them together, Ayla noticed that Kareja was taller than Zelandoni of the Eleventh. It was not that she was so tall, Ayla realized as they drew near, but that he was rather short. As he greeted her, she noticed again his strong grip. But she sensed something else about him. The man had certain mannerisms that had confused her when she first met him and came across quite strongly as he greeted and welcomed the visitors.
Suddenly she perceived that he did not appraise her the way most of the Zelandonii men did, whether overtly or with more subtlety, and she understood that this man did not look to women to satisfy his personal needs. When she was living with the Lion Camp, she recalled listening with much interest to a discussion about people who carried the essence of both male and female within them. Then she remembered Jondalar saying that such Zelandoni often made excellent healers, and she couldn’t help but smile. Perhaps he would be another person with whom she could discuss practices and techniques of healing and medicine.
His smile in return was friendly. “Welcome to River Place, the home of the Eleventh Cave of the Zelandonii,” he said. Another man, who was standing to the side and slightly behind him, was smiling at the Zelandoni in a warm and loving way. He was rather tall and had nice regular features that Ayla thought would be considered handsome, but he moved in a way that struck her as womanly.
The Zelandoni turned to look at the tall man and signaled him forward. “I’d like to introduce my friend, Marolan of the Eleventh Cave of the Zelandonii,” he said, then continued the rest of the formal introduction, which seemed somewhat longer than usual, Ayla thought.
While he was speaking, Jondalar moved up beside her, which made her feel better when she was in a new situation, and she had been in many since they had returned to the land of his people. She turned to smile at him, then turned back to take both hands of the man. He was not as tall as Jondalar, she noted, but somewhat taller than her.
“In the name of the Mut, the Great Mother of All, also known as Doni, I greet you, Marolan of the Eleventh Cave of the Zelandonii,” she concluded. His smile was cordial and he seemed interested in talking, but they had to step aside to make room for others that the leader and the Zelandoni of the Eleventh Cave were welcoming, and some people moved between them before they could exchange any conversational pleasantries. There would be time to talk later, she thought.
She glanced around to examine her surroundings. Although the location was higher than the bank, and somewhat back from the edge of the water, it was still rather close to The River. She commented on it to Marthona.
“Yes, they are close to The River,” the woman said. “Some people think they could be subject
to flooding. Zelandoni says there are some hints about it in the Elder Legends, but no one living now, not even the oldest, has any memory of floods here. They do take advantage of their location, though.”
Willamar explained that because of their immediate access, the people of the Eleventh Cave made good use of The River’s resources. Fishing was a principal activity, but more important, the Eleventh Cave was known for water transport. “River rafts are used to carry substantial amounts of whatever needs to be transported—food, goods, or people,” he said. “The people of the Eleventh Cave are not only the most skilled at poling the rafts up and down The River, for themselves, and for neighboring Caves, but they make most of them.”
“That’s their skill,” Jondalar added. “The Eleventh Cave specializes in making and using river rafts. Their home is known as River Place.”
“Isn’t that what those logs are?” she asked, pointing to several constructions made of wood and logs near the edge of the water. They weren’t unfamiliar. She had seen something like them before and tried to remember where. Then it came to her. The S’Armunai women had used a raft. When she was trying to find Jondalar and following the only trail that led away from the site of his disappearance, she had come to a river and seen a small raft nearby.
“Not all of them. The one that looks like a big raft is their dock. The smaller platforms tied to it are rafts. Most Caves have a place near the water to secure rafts, some not much more than a simple piling, others have more elaborate docks, but none are quite like theirs. When somebody wants to travel or transport something, either up- or downriver, they go to the Eleventh Cave to make arrangements. They make fairly regular runs,” Jondalar said. Tm glad we’re stopping here. “I’ve been wanting to tell them about the Sharamudoi and their wonderfully maneuverable river craft that are shaped out of logs.”
Joharran had overheard. “I don’t think you’ll have time to get into much of a discussion about river craft right now, unless you want to stay behind. I’d like to get back to the Ninth Cave before dark,” he said. “I told Kareja I’d stop because she wanted to show you around, Ayla, and I’d like to make a trip upriver by raft after the hunt to meet with some of the other leaders about the Summer Meeting.”
“If we had one of those small Ramudoi dugout boats, a couple of people could paddle upriver and wouldn’t have to worry about poling a heavy raft,” Jondalar said.
“How long would it take to make one?” Joharran asked.
“It takes a lot of work,” Jondalar acknowledged. “But once it’s made, it could last a while.”
“That won’t help me now, will it?”
“No. I was thinking of what a help it might be later.”
“Perhaps, but I need to get upriver in the next few days,” Joharran said, “and back again. If the Eleventh Cave is planning a trip, it would be easier, and much faster coming back, but I can walk if I have to.”
“You could use the horses,” Ayla said.
“You could use the horses, Ayla.” Joharran gave her a wry grin. “I don’t know how to make them go where I want.”
“A horse can carry two people. You could ride behind me,” she said.
“Or me,” Jondalar said.
“Well, maybe sometime, but right now I think I’ll find out if the Eleventh Cave is planning a trip upriver soon,” Joharran said.
They hadn’t noticed Kareja approach. “In fact, I have been thinking about making a run upriver,” she said. They all looked up. Tm going to the meeting, too, Joharran, and if the hunt is successful … even if it was considered likely, no one ever presumed that any hunt would be successful; it would be bad luck, “ … it might be a good idea to take some meat to the site of the Summer Meeting and cache it nearby beforehand. I think you are right that the Meeting will be particularly well attended this year.” She turned to Ayla. “I know you can’t stay long, but I wanted to show you our place and introduce you to some people.” She didn’t exactly ignore Jondalar, but she directed her comments to Ayla.
Jondalar looked more closely at the leader of the Eleventh Cave. She had been one of the most derisive of those who had teased him about his hunting suggestions and claims about their new hunting weapons, though now she seemed quite impressed with Ayla … after she had shown her skill. Maybe he should wait before bringing up the new kind of boats, and maybe Kareja wasn’t the one he should talk to about them, he thought, wondering who their foremost raft-maker was now.
He tried to remember what he knew about Kareja. She’d never had many men interested in her, he recalled. Not because she wasn’t attractive, but she hadn’t seemed particularly interested in men and didn’t encourage them. But he didn’t recall her being interested in women, either. She had always lived with her mother, Dorova. Jondalar wondered if she still did.
Her mother had never chosen to live with a man, he knew. He couldn’t remember who the man of her hearth was, or if anyone ever knew which man’s spirit the Great Mother had chosen to make Dorova pregnant. People had wondered about the name she had chosen for her daughter, mostly because it resembled the sound of the word courageous. Did she think Kareja would need courage? It did take courage to be the leader of a Cave.
Ayla knew the wolf would draw attention and bent down to reassure him with strokes and words of comfort. She drew comfort from him as well. It was hard to be the focus of so much constant scrutiny, and it was not likely to diminish soon. She was not exactly looking forward to the Summer Meeting for just that reason, even though she was anticipating the Matrimonial that would make her Jondalar’s mate. She took a deep breath and let out a surreptitious sigh, then straightened up. Giving Wolf a signal to stay close, she joined Kareja and walked toward the first of the living shelters.
It was similar to all the other shelters of stone in the region. Relative differences in the hardness of the limestone had caused the cliffs to erode at dissimilar rates, creating spaces in between terraces and overhanging ledges that were protected from precipitation above yet open to daylight. With the addition of structures built to block wind and fire to provide warmth, the spaces in the limestone cliffs provided very advantageous living conditions even during Ice Age winters in periglacial regions.
After meeting several people and introducing Wolf to a few, Ayla was led to the other stone shelter, the one in which Kareja lived. She met the leader’s mother, Dorova, but no other relatives. Kareja did not appear to have a mate or siblings, and she made it clear that she wanted no children, saying that taking care of her Cave was responsibility enough.
Kareja paused and seemed to be studying Ayla, then she said, “Since you are so knowledgeable about horses, I want to show you something.”
Jondalar was a little surprised when the leader headed toward a small cave. He knew where they were going, and people didn’t usually bring unknown visitors to their sacred places on their first visit. Near the entrance of the cave’s single gallery was a series of cryptic lines, and inside were several crude engravings that were rather difficult to see. On the ceiling, however, was a large, finely engraved horse, and more markings at the end.
“That is a remarkable horse,” Ayla said. “Whoever made it must know horses well. Does that person live here?”
“I don’t think so, though her spirit may still linger,” Kareja said. “It has been here a long time. Some ancestor made it, we don’t know who.”
The last thing Ayla was shown was the dock with two rafts tied to it, and a working area where another raft was being built. She would have liked to stay longer and learn more, but Joharran was in a hurry and Jondalar had said he had to make some preparations as well. Ayla didn’t want to stay by herself, especially on her first visit, but she did promise to return.
The party continued north upstream along The River to the foot of a small rocky escarpment where there was a small rock shelter. Ayla noticed that rock debris tended to accumulate along the edge of the cliff overhang. The accumulation of talus created a wall of loose, sharp-edged gravel below t
he lip of the abri.
There was some evidence of use. Several panel screens stood behind the talus, and one that had fallen down. An old sleeping roll, so worn that most of the fur was gone, had been tossed against the back wall. The black circular remains of a few fireplaces were evident, two of them encircled by stones and one with two forked sticks planted in the ground across from each other, used, Ayla was sure, to support meat spitted for roasting.
Ayla thought she saw a few wisps of smoke coming from one hearth, and she was surprised. The place seemed to be abandoned, yet it looked as though it had been used recently.
“What Cave lives here?” she asked.
“No Cave lives here,” Joharran said.
“But all of them use it,” Jondalar added.
“Everyone uses this place occasionally,” Willamar said. “It’s a place to get out of the rain, or for a group of youngsters to gather, or for a couple to be alone at, night, but no one lives here permanently. People just call it ‘The Shelter.’ ”
After stopping at The Shelter, they continued up the valley of The River to the Crossing. Looking ahead, Ayla again saw the cliffs and distinctive overhanging shelter of the Ninth Cave on the right bank at the outside of the sharp bend. After crossing, they followed a well-worn path beside The River along the base of a slope with thinning trees and brush.
They again walked single file as the trail narrowed between The River and a sheer vertical cliff. “This is the one called ‘High Rock,’ isn’t it?” Ayla said, slowing down to let Jondalar catch up.
“Yes,” he said as they approached a fork in the path just beyond the sheer wall. The fork headed back the way they had come but angled up.
“Where does that path go?” she asked.
“To some caves that are high up in that steep wall we just passed,” he said. She nodded.
After a few yards, the trail going north led to a valley oriented in an east-west direction that was enclosed by cliffs. A small stream ran down the middle of the valley into The River, which at that point was flowing almost exactly north to south. So narrow that it was very nearly a gorge, the valley nestled between two steep embankments: High Rock, the vertical cliff just passed on the south, and a second mass of rock of even more grand proportions on the north.
