Plains of Passage (27 page)

“I’d like to coat that hide after it’s mounted on the frame,” he said. “If I boil up the hooves and scraps of hide and some bones together
with
water for a long time, it will make a very thick and sticky kind of broth that dries hard. Do we have something that I can use to cook that in?”

“I’m sure we can think of something. Does it have to cook long?”

“Yes. It does need to cook down, to thicken.”

“Then it might be best to cook it directly over the fire, like a soup … maybe a piece of hide. We’ll have to watch it, and keep adding water, but as long as it stays wet, it won’t burn … wait. What about the stomach of that aurochs? I’ve been keeping water in it, so it wouldn’t dry out, and to have it handy for cooking and washing, but it would make a good cooking bag,” Ayla said.

“I don’t think so,” Jondalar said. “We don’t want to keep adding water. We want it to get thick.”

“Then I suppose a good watertight basket and hot stones might be best. I can make one in the morning,” Ayla said, but as she lay quietly, her mind wouldn’t let her sleep. She kept thinking that there was a better way to boil down the mixture Jondalar wanted to make. She just could not quite think of it. She was nearly asleep when it came to her. “Jondalar! Now I remember.”

He, too, was dozing off but was jerked awake. “Huh! What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I just remembered how Nezzie rendered out fat, and I think it would be the best way to cook your thick stuff. You dig a shallow hole in the ground, in the shape of a bowl, and line it with a piece of hide—there should be a big enough piece left from the aurochs for that. Break up some bones and scatter them over the bottom, then put in the water and the hooves and whatever else you want. You can boil it for as long as we keep heating stones, and the little pieces of bone will keep the hot stones from actually touching the leather, so it won’t burn through.”

“Good, Ayla. That’s what we’ll do,” Jondalar said, still half-asleep. He rolled over and was soon snoring.

But there was still something else on Ayla’s mind that kept her awake. She had planned to leave the aurochs’s stomach for the people of the Camp to use as a waterbag when they left, but it needed to be kept wet. Once it dried out, it got stiff, and would not go back to its original, pliable, nearly waterproof condition. Even if she filled it with water, it would eventually seep out and evaporate away, and she didn’t know when the people would return.

Suddenly it came to her. She almost called out again, but muffled it in time. He was sleeping, and she didn’t want to wake him. She would let the stomach dry out and use it to line her new meat-keeper, shaping it while it was still wet to fit exactly. As she fell asleep in the darkened lodge, Ayla felt pleased that she had thought of a way to replace the very necessary item that had been lost.

   During the next few days, while the meat dried, they were both busy. They finished the bowl boat and coated it with the glue Jondalar made by boiling down the hooves, bone, and hide scraps. While it was drying, Ayla made baskets, for the meat they were leaving as a gift for the people of the Camp, for cooking to replace those she had lost, and for gathering, some of which she planned to leave behind. She gathered vegetable produce and medicinal herbs daily, drying some to take with them.

Jondalar accompanied her one day to look for something to make into paddles for the boat. Shortly after they started out, he was pleased to find the skull of a giant deer that had died before the large palmate antlers were shed, giving him two of equal size. Though it was early, he stayed out with Ayla for the rest of the morning. He was learning to identify certain foods himself, and in the process he was beginning to understand how much Ayla really knew. Her knowledge of plants and her memory for their uses were incredible. When they returned to the Camp, Jondalar trimmed the tines off the broad antlers and attached them to sturdy, rather short poles, making entirely serviceable paddles.

The next day he decided to use the wood-shaping apparatus he had set up to bend the wood for the boat frame, to straighten shafts for new spears. Shaping and smoothing them took most of the next couple of days, even with the special tools he had with him, carried in a roll of leather tied with thongs. But while he was working, every time he passed by the side of the earthlodge where he had thrown it, Jondalar noticed the truncated spear shaft he had brought up from the valley and felt a flush of annoyance. It was a shame that there wasn’t a way to salvage that straight shaft, short of making a cropped and unbalanced spear out of it. Any of the spears he was working so hard to make could break just as easily.

When he was satisfied that the spears would fly true, he used yet another tool, a narrow flint blade with a chisellike tip hafted to an antler-tine handle, to hollow out a deep notch in the thicker butt ends of the shafts. Then, from the prepared flint nodules he had with him, Jondalar knapped new blades and attached them to the spear shafts with the thick glue he had made as a coating for the boat, and fresh sinew. The tough tendon shrank as it dried, making a strong, solid bond. He finished by affixing pairs of long feathers, found near the river, from the numerous white-tailed eagles, falcons, and black kites that lived in the region feeding on the abundance of susliks and other small rodents.

They had set up a target, using a thick, grass-stuffed bed pad that the badger had torn up and made worthless. Patched with scraps from the aurochs, it absorbed the force of a throw without damage to the spears. Both Jondalar and Ayla practiced a little every day. Ayla did it to maintain her accuracy, but Jondalar was experimenting with different lengths of shaft and sizes of point to see which would work best with the spear-thrower.

When his new spears were finished and dried, he and Ayla took them to the target area to try them out with the spear-thrower and choose which ones each wanted. Though they were both very adept with the hunting weapon, some of their practice casts inevitably went wide of the mark and mised the cushioned target, usually landing harmlessly on
the ground. But when Jondalar cast a newly completed spear with a powerful throw, and not only mised the target, but hit a large mammoth bone that was used as an outdoor seat, he flinched. He heard a crack as it bent and bounced back. The wooden shaft had splintered at a weak spot about a foot back from the point.

When he walked over to examine it, he noticed that the brittle flint tip had also shattered along one edge and spalled off a large chip, leaving a lopsided point that was not worth salvaging. He was furious with himself for wasting a spear that had taken so much time and effort to make, before it could be used for anything worthwhile. In a sudden surge of anger, he cracked the bent spear across his knee and broke it in two, then threw it down.

When he looked up, he noticed Ayla watching him, and he turned away, flushed with embarrassment over his outburst, then stooped down and picked up the broken pieces, wishing he could dispose of them unobtrusively. When he looked up again, Ayla was getting ready to cast another spear as though she hadn’t seen anything. He walked over to the earthlodge and dropped the broken spear near the shaft that had broken during the hunt, then stared down at the pieces, feeling foolish. It was ridiculous to get so angry over breaking a spear.

But it is a lot of work to make one, he thought, looking at the long shaft with the end broken off, and the section of the other spear with the broken flint point still attached that happened to be lying just in front. It’s too bad those pieces can’t be put together to make a whole spear.

As he stared at them, he began to wonder if maybe he could, and he picked up both pieces again, examining the broken ends carefully. He fitted them together and, for a while, the splintered ends stayed attached, then fell apart again. Looking over the entire long shaft, he noted the hollowed-out indentation he had carved at the butt end for the pointed hook of the spear-thrower, then turned it around to look again at the broken end.

If I carved a deeper hold at this end, he thought, and shaved the end of this piece with the broken flint to a tapered point, and put them together, would they stay? Full of excitement, Jondalar went into the lodge and got out his roll of leather and took it outside. He sat down on the ground and unrolled it, displaying the variety of carefully made flint tools, and picked out the chisel tool. Setting it down nearby, he examined the broken shaft and reached for his flint knife from the sheath on his belt and began to cut away the splinters and make a smooth end.

Ayla had stopped practicing with her spear-thrower and put it and her spears in the holder that she had adapted to wear across her back over one shoulder, the way Jondalar did. She was walking back toward
the lodge carrying some plants she had dug up when he came striding toward her with a big smile on his face.

“Look, Ayla!” he said, holding up the spear. The piece with the broken point still attached was fitted into the top end of the long spear shaft. “I fixed it. Now I’m going to see if it works!”

She followed him back to the practice target and watched him set the spear on the thrower, pull back and take aim, then hurl the spear with great force. The long missile hit the target, then bounced back. But when Jondalar went to check, he found that the broken point attached to the small tapered shaft was embedded firmly in the target. With the impact, the long shaft had come loose and bounced back, but when he went to inspect it, he found it was undamaged. The two-part spear had worked.

“Ayla! Do you realize what this means?” Jondalar was nearly shouting with excitement.

“I’m not sure,” she said.

“See, the point found its mark, then separated from the shaft without breaking. That means, all I have to make next time is a new point and attach it to a short piece like this. I don’t have to make a whole new long shaft. I can make two points like this, several, in fact, and will only need a few long shafts. We can carry a lot more short shafts with points than long fall spears, and if we lose one, it won’t be so hard to replace. Here, you try it,” he said, working loose the broken point from the target.

Ayla looked over. “I’m not very good at making a long spear shaft straight, and my points are not as beautiful as yours,” she said. “But even I could make one of these, I think.” She was as excited as Jondalar.

   On the day before they planned to leave, they checked over their repairs of the damage caused by the badger, placed the skin of the animal in a way that they hoped would make it obvious that it was the cause of the mess, and put out their gifts. The basket of dried meat was hung from a mammoth bone rafter to make it difficult for any other prowling animal to find. Ayla displayed other baskets, and hung several bunches of dried medicinal herbs and food plants as well, particularly those that were commonly used by the Mamutoi. Jondalar left the owner of the lodge an especially well made spear.

They also mounted the partly dried skull of the aurochs cow, with its huge horns, on a pole outside the lodge, so that scavengers could not get to it, either. The horns and other bony parts of the skull were useful, and it was a way of explaining what kind of meat was in the basket.

The young wolf and the horses seemed to sense an impending change. Wolf bounded around them full of excitement and energy, and
the horses were restless, with Racer living up to his name, breaking into short, fast-breaking dashes, and Whinney staying closer to the Camp, watching for Ayla and nickering when she saw her.

Before they went to bed, they packed everything except their sleeping rolls and breakfast essentials, including the dry tent, though it was harder to fold and fit into the pack basket. The hides had been smoked before the skins were made into a tent, so that even after a thorough soaking, they would remain reasonably pliable, but the portable shelter was still somewhat stiff. It would become more flexible again with use.

On their last night in the comfort of the lodge, Ayla watched the flickering light of the dying fire playing across the walls of the substantial shelter, feeling her emotions flicker across her mind with a similar play of brightness and shadow. She was eager to be on their way again, but sorry to be leaving a place that, in the short time they had been there, had come to feel like home—except there were no people. In the past few days, she had caught herself looking up at the crest of the slope hoping to see the people who lived at the Camp returning before they had to leave.

Though she still wished they would arrive unexpectedly, she had given up hoping, and she was looking forward to reaching the Great Mother River and perhaps meeting someone along its route. She loved Jondalar, but she was lonely for people, for women and children, and elders, for laughing and talking, and sharing with others of her kind. But she didn’t want to think much beyond the next day, or the next Camp of people. She didn’t want to think about Jondalar’s people, or how long they still had to travel before they reached his home, and she didn’t want to think about how they were going to cross that large, fast river with only a small round boat.

Jondalar lay awake as well, worried about their Journey and eager to be moving again, though he did think their stay had been very worthwhile. Their tent was dry, they had replenished their meat and replaced necessary equipment that had been lost or damaged, and he was excited about the development of the two-part spear. He was glad he had the bowl boat, but even with it, he was worried about crossing the river. It was a large waterway, wide and swift. They were probably not very far from the sea, and it was not likely to get smaller. Anything could happen. He would be glad when they reached the other side.

A
lya woke often during the night, and her eyes were open as the first morning glow crept in through the smoke hole and sent its faint illuminating fingers into the tenebrious crannies to disperse the dark and bring the hidden shapes out of the concealing shadows. By the time the obscuring night had retreated to a dim half-light, she was wide awake and could not go back to sleep.