The Shelters of Stone (112 page)

After the young man gave Ayla the offending piece of wolf fur, she gave it to Wolf. He attacked it, pounced on it, grabbed it with his teeth, and shook it, trying to tear it apart. It would have been funny if the people watching hadn’t been aware of how seriously he had been injured, and that his friend or potential mate had been killed. Instead they sympathized with the wolf, attributing to him the feelings they would have experienced in a similar situation.

“I’m glad I’m not still attached to that,” Palidar said.

He and Ayla made arrangements to go to the place where he found the wolves later, they both had other plans at the
moment. She wasn’t sure what she expected to find, scavengers would have disposed of everything by now, but as hurt as he was, she wondered how far Wolf had traveled to find her. After Palidar left, she thought about the songs and stories he had mentioned about the wolf who loved the woman.

She had visited the camp of the Story-Tellers and Musicians. It was a lively, colorful place, even their clothing seemed to have brighter hues. They were not all from one place, they had no stone shelter of their own, only their traveling tents and lodges. They traveled from place to place, staying for a while with one Cave and then with another, but it was obvious that they all knew one another and felt a kinship. There always seemed to be children at their place. Just as they did during the rest of the year, they visited the various Caves, but at their Summer Meeting camps rather than their shelters. They also gave general performances on the level area where the Matrimonial had been held, while people watched from the slope.

She knew the Story-Tellers had begun to tell stories about the animals at the Ninth Cave. Sometimes they were about how useful the animals could be, such as how the horses could carry heavy loads, or about Wolf helping her hunt by flushing out animals like the bird during the spear-thrower demonstration. There was a new story about how he helped her to find the new cave, but the stories of the Story-Tellers tended to have some supernatural or magical element in them. In their stories, Wolf hunted not because she had trained him, but because they had a special understanding, which was true, they did, but that wasn’t why they hunted together. The story about the wolf who loved the woman had already become one of a man who became a wolf when he visited the spirit world, then forgot to change back into a man when he returned to this world.

The stories had already been told and retold many times and were on their way to being incorporated into the lore and legends of the people. Some Story-Tellers invented other stories about animals that were kept by people, or sometimes turned them about so that people were kept by animals. They
sometimes became animal spirits, who helped people. They would, in all likelihood, be passed down for generations to come, keeping alive the idea that animals could be trained, or tamed, or kept, and not just hunted.

“Wolf will be fine with Folara,” Jondalar said. “He’s fine with visitors, and visitors are becoming more careful, making sure someone from the Ninth Cave knows they are coming. He won’t suddenly turn on someone, we know why he was so aggressive toward Palidar. He’s been through a difficult time, and it’s bound to change him, but he’s still basically the same Wolf that you have loved and trained since he was a tiny pup. I don’t think we should take him to the meeting, though. You know how people get excited, and it could get rancorous. Wolf would not like to see people shouting or carrying on, especially if you are there and he thinks you are being threatened.”

“Who will be there?” Ayla asked.

“Mostly the leaders and the zelandonia, and those people who have spoken out against Echozar,” Joharran said.

“That means Brukeval, Laramar, and Marona,” Ayla said. “None of them are friends.”

“It gets worse,” Jondalar said. “The Zelandoni of the Fifth Cave, and Madroman, his acolyte, who is certainly not my best friend, will also be there. And Denanna of the Twenty-ninth Cave, though I’m not sure why she made complaints.”

“I don’t think she likes the idea of animals living around people. You remember when we stopped there on the way here, she did not want the animals to come up to her shelter,” Ayla said, “though I was just as glad to camp down on the field.”

When they arrived at the zelandonia lodge, the drape was opened before they could announce their presence and they were ushered in. In a passing thought, Ayla wondered how they always seemed to know when she was coming, whether she was expected or not.

“Have you met the new member of the Ninth Cave?” Zelandoni said. She was speaking to the pleasant-looking
woman with a conciliatory smile, but whom Ayla sensed had an underlying strength.

“I was at the introduction, of course, and the Matrimonial, but I haven’t met her personally,” the woman said.

“This is Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, mated to Jondalar of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, Son of Marthona, former Leader of the Ninth Cave, formerly Ayla of the Mamutoi, Member of the Lion Camp, Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth, Chosen by the Spirit of the Cave Lion, and Protected by the Cave Bear,” Zelandoni said, making the formal introduction.

“Ayla, this is Zelandoni of the Twenty-ninth Cave.”

She greeted the woman, but it came as a surprise to hear such a short formal introduction. It was, however, all that was necessary. As Zelandoni, she had given up her personal identity and had become the embodiment of the Twenty-ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, although if she had wished, the introduction could have included the person she formerly was, including her original name and all her previous ties. It just seemed unnecessary most of the time, since she was no longer that person.

Ayla thought about her most recent acquisition of names and ties. She liked the way Zelandoni had introduced her. She had become Ayla of the Zelandonii, and Jondalar’s mate, and that came first, but she had been Ayla of the Mamutoi, she hadn’t lost her connections to them, ties that meant so much to her. And she was still “Chosen by the Spirit of the Cave Lion, and Protected by the Cave Bear.” It pleased her that even her totem and her Clan connections were included.

When she first arrived and heard the long recitations of names and ties in the formal Zelandonii introductions, Ayla wondered, very privately and only to herself, why they made such extended, almost interminable introductions, full of unknown names and connections. Why not simplify it and just say the names that people were usually called—Jondalar, Marthona, Proleva. But she had been so pleased to hear her familiar connections mentioned, she was glad now for the Zelandonii way of including past references. She had once
thought of herself as Ayla of No People, alone with only a horse and a lion for company. Now she had ties to many people, and she was mated and expecting a child.

She had one more passing thought as she turned her attention back to the people at the meeting. She wished she could include “Mother of Dure of the Clan” in her names and ties, but considering the reason for this meeting, and recalling the night of their mating, and the disruptions that Echozar’s appearance had made, she wasn’t sure if she could ever tell the Zelandonii about her son, Dure.

When the First moved to the center of the lodge, it soon became quiet. “I will begin by saying that this meeting will not change anything. Joplaya and Echozar are mated, and only they can change that. But there seems to be an undercurrent of nasty rumors and general ill will toward them, which I think is shameful. It makes me less than proud to be a Zelandoni of people who could be so heartless to two young people who are just beginning their lives together. Dalanar, the man of Joplaya’s hearth, and I decided to bring this matter out in the open. If some people have sincere complaints, this is the time to make them known,” the donier said.

There was some shuffling around and avoidance of looking directly at people. It was clear that there was some embarrassment, especially among those who had listened avidly and perhaps passed on some item of malicious gossip. Even temporal and spiritual leaders were not above such human failings. No one seemed to want to broach the matter, as though it were too foolish to even bring up, and the First was ready to go on to the next reason for the meeting.

Laramar could see the moment he had been agitating for was slipping away, and he had been one of the primary instigators of the discontent. “It is true, isn’t it, that Echozar’s mother was a flathead,” he said.

The look the First gave him was a combination of disdain and irritation. “He has never denied it,” she said.

“That means he’s a child of mixed spirits, and a child of mixed spirits is an abomination. That makes him an abomination,” Laramar said.

“Who told you that a child of mixed spirits is an abomination?” the Zelandoni Who Was First asked.

Laramar frowned and looked around. “Everybody knows that.”

“How do they know that?” the First asked.

“Because people say so,” he said.

“What people say so?” she pressed.

“Everybody,” he said.

“If everybody said the sun will not rise tomorrow morning, would that make it so?” the donier asked.

“Well, no. But people have always said so,” Laramar said.

“I think I remember hearing it from the zelandonia,” one of the onlookers said.

The First glanced around to look at the person who had spoken; she had recognized the voice. “Are you saying it is a teaching of the zelandonia that a child of mixed spirits is an abomination, Marona?”

“Well, yes,” she said defiantly. “I’m sure I heard it from the zelandonia.”

“Marona, did you know that even a beautiful woman can look ugly when she lies?” the First said.

Marona flushed and glared at the First with a malicious look. Several people turned to stare at her to see if what the First said was true, and some of them agreed that the spiteful expression on the young woman’s face did detract from her recognized beauty. She looked away, but mumbled under her breath, “How would you know, you fat old woman!”

Several people nearby heard her and gasped at the insult to the First Among Those Who Served The Great Earth Mother. Ayla, who was on the other side of the large room, caught her breath, too, but her hearing was almost supernaturally acute. A few others had heard Marona, among them the First, whose hearing was rather good as well.

“Look closely at this fat old woman, Marona, and remember that, like you, I was once considered the most beautiful woman at the Summer Meeting. Beauty is at most a fleeting Gift. Use it wisely while you have it, young woman, because when it’s gone, you will be very unhappy if you don’t
have something else. I have never regretted the loss of beauty, because what I have gained in knowledge and experience is much more satisfying,” the One Who Was First said.

Then she continued to the rest of the group, “Marona has said, and Laramar has implied, that it is taught by the zelandonia that children who are born as the result of the blending of the spirits of one of us with one of those whom we call flatheads are abominations. In the past few days, I have gone into deep meditation and recalled all the Histories and Elder Legends, and all the lore that is known only to the zelandonia, to try to find out where this idea came from, because Laramar is right in one respect. It is something that ‘everybody’ thinks they know.” She paused and looked around the gathering. “That idea has never been a teaching of the zelandonia.”

The zelandonia had been very quiet when they saw her meditating in solitude with her chest plaque turned around so that the carvings and decorations were hidden and only the plain side showed, meaning she did not want to be interrupted. Now they knew why.

There was an undercurrent of conversation. “But they’re animals.” “They aren’t even human.” “They are related to bears.”

The Zelandoni of the Fourteenth Cave spoke out. “The Mother is appalled by such a mixture.”

“They are an abomination,” Denanna, the leader of the Twenty-ninth Cave, said. “We’ve always known that.”

Madroman whispered to the Zelandoni of the Fifth Cave, “Denanna is right. They are half human, half animal.”

The First waited until things quieted down. “Think about where you heard those things. Try to recall even one instance in the lore of the zelandonia, or the Histories and Elder Legends of the Zelandonii, where it specifically mentions that the children of mixed spirits are abominations, or even that the flatheads are animals. I am not talking about innuendos or suggestions, but specific references,” she said.

She let them think for a while, then continued. “In fact, if you think about it clearly, you would know that the Mother would never be appalled, or want us to think of them as
abominations. They are children of the Mother, just as we are. After all, who is it that selects a man’s spirit to blend with the spirit of a woman? It doesn’t happen often, we don’t associate much with flatheads, but if the Mother sometimes decides to create a new life by blending the elan of a flathead with the elan of a Zelandonii, that is Her choice. It is not for Her children to disparage those offspring. The Great Earth Mother decided to create them, perhaps for a special reason. Echozar is not an abomination. Echozar is born of woman, as we all are. The fact that his mother was a woman of the Clan doesn’t make him less a child of the Great Mother. If he and Joplaya have chosen each other, then Doni is pleased, and we should be, too.”

There was another commotion, but the First heard no actual denials and decided to move on. “The other reason for having this gather is that Joharran wants to talk about the ones we calfflatheads, but first I think you should learn more about them from someone who can speak from experience. Ayla was raised by the ones we know as flatheads, but that she knows as people of the Clan. Ayla, will you come here and tell us about them.”

Ayla got up and walked toward the First. Her stomach was queasy and her mouth felt dry. She wasn’t used to speaking formally to a group of people and she didn’t know where to start, so she just began where her memories began.

“I was a five-year, I think, as close as I can guess, when I lost the family I was born to. I don’t remember most of this very well, but I think it was an earthquake that took them. I dream about it sometimes. I guess I wandered alone for a while, I’m sure I didn’t know where to go or what to do. I don’t know how long I had been alone when I was chased by a cave lion. I think I hid in a small cave, very small, because a cave lion reached in to try to get me and scratched my leg. I still have the scars, four lines from his claws on my leg. My earliest real memory is opening my eyes and seeing Iza, a woman of those you would call flatheads. I remember screaming at the sight of her. Her response was to hold me in her arms until I quieted.”