The Shelters of Stone (123 page)

Jondalar thought she looked a bit troubled. It was probably his imagination.

“Zelandoni asked me to be her acolyte. She wants to train me,” Ayla blurted out.

Jondalar’s head snapped up. “I didn’t know you were interested in becoming a Zelandoni, Ayla.”

“I didn’t think I was, and I still don’t know if I am. She has said before that she thought I belonged in the zelandonia, but the first time she asked me to be her acolyte was right after Jonayla was born. She says she really needs someone, and I already know something about healing. Just because I’m an acolyte doesn’t mean I will necessarily become a Zelandoni. Jonokol has been an acolyte for a long time,” Ayla said, looking down at the vegetables she was cutting.

Jondalar walked over to her and lifted her chin to look directly at her. Her eyes did look troubled. “Ayla, everyone knows the only reason Jonokol is Zelandoni’s acolyte is because he’s such a good artist, he captures the spirit of animals with great skill, and Zelandoni needs him for the ceremonies. He will never be a donier.”

“He might. Zelandoni says he wants to move to the Nineteenth Cave,” Ayla said.

“It’s that new cave you found, isn’t it?” Jondalar said. “Well, he’d be the right person for it. But if you become an acolyte, you would become a Zelandoni, wouldn’t you.’

Ayla still could not refuse to answer a direct question or tell a he. “Yes, Jondalar,” she said. “I think someday I would be Zelandoni, if I join the zelandonia, but not right away.”

“Is it what you want to do? Or has Zelandoni talked you into it because you are a healer?” Jondalar wanted to know.

“She says I already am Zelandoni, in a way. Maybe she’s right, I don’t know. She says I should be trained for my own
protection. It could be very dangerous for me if I feel a call and I’m not prepared for it,” Ayla said. She had never told him about the strange things that happened to her, and it felt like a lie, not telling him. Even in the Clan one could refrain from mentioning. It bothered her, but she still didn’t tell him.

It was Jondalar’s turn to look troubled. “There isn’t much I can say about it, one way or another. It’s your choice. It probably is best to be prepared. You don’t know how you scared me when you and Mamut made that strange Journey. I thought you were dead, and I begged the Great Mother to bring you back. I don’t think I ever begged for anything so hard in my life, Ayla. I hope you never do anything like that again.”

“I thought it was you, not at first, but later. Mamut said someone called us back, called with such force, it could not be denied. I thought I saw you there when I came back to myself, but then I didn’t see you,” Ayla said.

“You were promised to Ranee. I didn’t want to be in the way,” Jondalar said, vividly recalling that terrible night.

“But you loved me. If you hadn’t loved me so much, my spirit might still be lost in that empty void. Mamut said he would never go there again like that, and he told me that if I ever take that Journey again, I should make sure I have strong protection, or I might not return.” Suddenly she reached for him. “Why me, Jondalar?” she cried. “Why do I have to be a Zelandoni?”

Jondalar held her. Yes, he thought, Why her? He recalled the donier talking about the responsibilities and the dangers. Now he understood why she had been so open. She had been trying to prepare them. She must have known all along, from the first day they arrived, just like Mamut seemed to know. That’s why he adopted her to his hearth. Can I be the mate of a Zelandoni? He thought about his mother and Dalanar. She said he had not been able to stay with her because she was the leader. The demands on a Zelandoni are even greater.

Everyone said he was just like Dalanar, there was no doubt he was the son of Dalanar’s spirit. But Ayla says it was not just spirits. She says Jonayla is my daughter. If she is
right, then I must be Dalanar’s son! The thought stunned him. Could he be as much Dalanar’s son as he was Marthona’s? If he was, would he be so much like him that he would not be able to live with a woman whose duties were so important? It was a very disturbing idea.

He felt Ayla shaking in his arms and looked at her. “What’s wrong, Ayla?”

“I’m afraid, Jondalar. That’s why I don’t want to do it. I’m afraid to be Zelandoni,” she sobbed. She quieted down and pulled away. “The reason I’m so afraid, Jondalar, is that things have happened to me that I never told you.”

“What kind of things?” he asked, his forehead wrinkled in a frown.

“I never told you because I didn’t know how to explain. I’m still not sure that I can, but I’ll try. When I lived with Brun’s clan, you know I went with them to a Clan Gathering. Iza was too sick to go—she died soon after we returned.” Ayla’s eyes started to fill at the memory. “Iza was the medicine woman, it was she that was supposed to prepare the special drink for the mog-urs. No one else knew how. Uba was too young, not a woman yet, and it had to be prepared by a woman. Iza explained it to me before we left. I didn’t think the mog-urs would allow me to make it—they said I wasn’t Clan—but then Creb came and told me to prepare myself. It was the same drink I made for Mamut and me when we took our strange Journey.

“But I didn’t know how to do it right, and I ended up drinking some of it, too. I didn’t even know where I was going when I followed the mog-urs back into the cave. The drink was so powerful, I may have already been in the Spirit World. When I saw the mog-urs I hid and watched, but Creb knew I was there. I told you Creb was a powerful magician. He was like Zelandoni, First, The Mog-ur. He was directing everything, and somehow my mind joined with theirs. I went back with them, back to the beginnings. I can’t explain it, but I was there. As we came back to the present, we came to this place. Creb blocked out the others, they didn’t know I was with them, but then he left them and followed me. I know it was
this place, I recognized the Falling Stone. The Clan lived here for generations, I can’t tell you how long.”

In spite of himself, Jondalar was fascinated.

“Long ago we started from the same people,” Ayla continued, “but then we changed. The Clan was left behind when we went ahead. As powerful as he was, Creb couldn’t follow me, but he saw something, or felt something. Then he told me to leave, get out of the cave. It was like I heard him inside me, inside my head, as though he were talking to me. The other mog-urs never knew I was there, and he never told them. They would have killed me. Women were not allowed to participate in those ceremonies.

“Creb changed after that. He was never the same agarâl. He began to lose his power, I think he didn’t like directing the minds anymore. I don’t know how, but somehow I hurt him, I wish I had never done it, but he did something to me, too. I’ve been different since then, my dreams feel different, and sometimes I feel strange, as though I go away someplace else, and—I don’t know how to say it, but it’s like I know what people are thinking sometimes. No, that’s not quite it, either, it’s more like I know what they are feeling, but that’s not exactly right, either. What they are, I don’t know the right words, Jondalar. I block it out most of the time anyway, but sometimes things get through, especially when there are very strong emotions, like Brukeval’s.”

Jondalar was looking at her strangely. “Do you know what I am thinking, what thoughts are in my head?”

“No, I never know thoughts, exactly. But I know that you love me.” She watched his expression change. “It bothers you, doesn’t it? Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything,” she mumbled, feeling Jondalar’s emotions like a weight. She was always particularly perceptive to Jondalar. She put her head down, her shoulders slumped.

He could see her dejection, and suddenly his uneasy feeling evaporated. He took both her shoulders and made her look up, then looked into her eyes. They had that incredibly ancient look he had seen occasionally before, and a sadness, a deep, ineffable melancholy.

“I have nothing to hide from you, Ayla. I don’t care if you know what I’m thinking or feeling. I love you. I’ll never stop loving you.”

Tears spilled out of her eyes, as much from relief as from love. She reached up to kiss him as he bent his head toward her. He held her tightly, wanting to protect her from anything that might cause her pain. And she held him. As long as she had Jondalar, nothing else really mattered, did it? Just then Jonayla started to cry.

“I just want to be a mother, and be mated to you, Jondalar, I don’t really want to be a Zelandoni,” Ayla said as she went to pick her up.

She is really scared, he thought, but who wouldn’t be? I don’t even like getting near a burial ground, much less think about visiting the world of the spirits. He watched her come back to him with the baby in her arms, tears still in her eyes, and felt a sudden surge of love and protectiveness for the woman and the baby. So what if she became Zelandoni? She would still be Ayla to him, and she would still need him.

“It will be all right, Ayla,” he said, taking the baby from her and cradling her in his arms. He had never been happier than he had been since they were mated, and especially since Jonayla was born. He looked down at the infant and smiled. I believe she is my daughter, too, he thought.

“It’s up to you, Ayla,” he said. “You are right, even if you join the zelandonia, it doesn’t mean you will have to be a Zelandoni, but if you do, that will be all right, too. I always knew I was mating someone special. Not only a beautiful woman, but one with a rare Gift. You were chosen by the Mother, that’s an honor, and she showed it by honoring you at our mating. And now you have a beautiful daughter. No, we have a beautiful daughter. You said she’s my daughter, too, right?” he said, trying to calm her fears.

Her tears spilled again, but she smiled through them. “Yes. Jonayla is your daughter and my daughter,” she said, then broke out in new sobs. He reached out for her with his other arm and held them both. “If you ever stopped loving
me, Jondalar, I don’t know what I would do. Please never stop loving me.”

Of course I’ll never stop loving you. I will always love you. Nothing can ever make me stop,” Jondalar said, feeling it deep in his heart and hoping that it would always be true.

Winter finally came to an end. The drifts of snow, dirty from dust blowing on the wind, melted, and the first crocuses poked their purple-and-white flowers through the last vestiges of it. The icicles dripped until they disappeared, and the first green buds appeared. Ayla was spending a great deal of time with Whinney. With her baby held close to her in a carrying cloak, she walked with the mare or rode her slowly. Racer was feeling more frisky, and even Jondalar had some trouble controlling him, but he rather enjoyed the challenge.

Whinney whickered at the sight of her, and she patted and hugged her affectionately. She planned to meet Jondalar and several people at a small abri downstream. They wanted to tap a few birch trees, part of which would be boiled down into a rich syrup, and another part of which would be allowed to ferment to make a light alcoholic beverage. It wasn’t far, but she had decided to take Whinney for a ride, mostly because she wanted to stay close to her. She was almost there when it started to rain. She urged Whinney faster and noticed that the mare seemed to be breathing hard. Ayla felt her rounded sides just as the mare had another contraction.

“Whinney!” she said aloud. “Your time has come, hasn’t it. I wonder how close you are to giving birth. We are not far from the abri where I’m supposed to meet everyone. I hope you won’t be too bothered by having other people around you.”

When she reached the camp, she asked Joharran if she could bring Whinney under the abri. The mare was about to give birth. He was quick to agree, and a wave of excitement spread among the group. This would be an experience. None of them had ever been close to a horse giving birth. She led Whinney under the overhanging upper ledge.

Jondalar rushed over and asked if she needed any help. “I don’t think Whinney needs my help, but I want to be close to her,” Ayla said. “If you would watch Jonayla, it would help me. I just nursed her. She should be all right for a while.” He reached for Jonayla. She saw his face and gave him a big, delighted smile. She had only recently started smiling and had begun to greet the man of her hearth with that sign of recognition.

“You have your mother’s smile, Jonayla,” he said as he picked her up, looking directly at her and smiling back. The baby focused on his face, made a soft cooing sound, and smiled again. It melted his heart. He tucked Jonayla into the crook of his arm and walked back toward the people at the other end of the small shelter.

Whinney seemed happy to be out of the wet weather. Ayla rubbed the mare down and led her to an area of dry soil as far away from the people as she could. They seemed to sense that Ayla wanted them to keep some distance away, but the space was small, and they had no trouble seeing. Jondalar turned around to watch with them. It was not the first time he had seen Whinney give birth, but the idea was no less exciting. Familiarity with the process of birth did not diminish the sense of awe at the new life about to make an appearance. Human or animal, it was still Doni’s greatest Gift. They all waited quietly.

After a while, when it seemed that Whinney was not quite ready but as comfortable as she could be, Ayla walked to the fire where the people were waiting, to get a drink of water. She was offered hot tea, and she returned for it after bringing some water to the horse.

“Ayla, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you tell how you found your horses,” Dynoda said. “What makes them unafraid of people?”

Ayla smiled. She was getting used to telling stories, and she didn’t mind talking about her horses. She quickly told how she had trapped and killed the horse that had been Whinney’s dam, then noticed the young foal and the hyenas. She explained that she brought the baby horse to her cave,
fed her, and raised her. She warmed to the tale, and without realizing it, the skill she had developed in the course of living with the people of the Clan of showing meaning by expression and gesture crept into her narration.

With half her mind on the mare, she unconsciously dramatized the events, and the people, several from the other nearby Caves, were captivated. Her exotic accent and her uncanny ability to mimic the sounds of animals added an interesting element to her unusual story. Even Jondalar was entranced, although he knew the circumstances. He had not heard her tell the whole story quite like that. More questions were asked, and she began to describe her life in the valley, but when she told about finding and raising a cave lion, there were expressions of disbelief. Jondalar was quick to back her up. Whether they entirely believed her or not, the story of a lion, a horse, and a woman all living together in a cave in a secluded valley was an enjoyable one. A sound from the mare stopped her from continuing.