The Shelters of Stone (43 page)

Zelandoni had been busy all morning, preparing the body of Shevonar to be carried back to the Ninth Cave. Being near someone whose spirit had left the body was very disturbing for most people, and his burial would involve more than the usual ritual. It was considered very bad luck if someone died while hunting. If they were alone, the bad luck was obvious, the misfortune had been accomplished, but a Zelandoni usually performed a cleansing ritual to ward off any possible future effects. If two or three hunters went out and one of them died, it was still considered a personal matter, and a ceremony with the survivors and family members was adequate. But when someone died on a hunt that involved not just one Cave but the whole community, that was serious. Something on a community level had to be done.

The One Who Was First was thinking about what might be needed, perhaps a prohibition on the hunting of bison for the rest of the season to assuage the ill fortune might be required. Ayla saw her relaxing with a cup of tea near the fire, sitting on a stack of several thickly stuffed pads that had been brought for her on Whinney’s pole drag. She seldom sat on low cushions, finding it more and more difficult and cumbersome to get up as she grew more corpulent with each year.

Ayla approached the donier. “Zelandoni, can I talk to you?”

“Yes, of course.”

“If you’re too busy, it can wait. I just wanted to ask you something,” Ayla said.

“I can spare a little time now,” Zelandoni said. “Get a cup
for tea and join me.” She motioned to Ayla to sit on a mat on the ground.

“I just wanted to ask you if you know of anything more that I could have done for Shevonar. Is there any way to heal internal wounds? When I lived with the Clan, there was a man who had been accidentally stabbed with a knife. A piece broke off inside and Iza cut in and removed it, but I don’t think there was a way to cut in and fix Shevonar’s wounds,” Ayla said.

It was obvious how much it bothered the foreign woman that she had been able to do so little for the man, and Zelandoni was moved by her concern. It was the sort of thing a good acolyte might feel.

“There is not much that can be done to help anyone who has been stepped on by a full-grown bison, Ayla,” Zelandoni said. “Some lumps and swellings can be lanced to drain, or small objects cut out, slivers or that broken piece of the knife that your Clan woman removed, but that was a brave thing for her to do. It is dangerous to cut into the body. You are creating an injury that often is bigger than the one you are trying to fix. I have cut in a few times, but only when I was sure it would help and there was no other way.”

“That’s how I feel,” Ayla said.

“It’s also necessary to know something about what the inside of the body is like. There are many similarities between the inside of a human body and the inside of an animal’s body, and I have often butchered an animal very carefully to see what it looks like and how they are connected. It’s easy to see the tubes that carry blood from the heart, and the sinew that moves the muscles. Those things are very similar in all animals, but some things are different, an aurochs’s stomach is different from a horse’s, for example, and many things are arranged differently. It can be useful and quite interesting.”

“I have found that to be true,” Ayla said. “I’ve hunted and butchered many animals, and it does help to understand about people. I am sure Shevonar’s ribs were broken, and splinters had penetrated his … breathing sacs.”

“Lungs.”

“His lungs, and I think his … other organs. In Mamutoi. I would say ‘liver’ and ‘spleen.’ I don’t know the words in Zelandonii. They bleed heavily when damaged. Do you know which ones I mean?” Ayla said.

“Yes, I do,” the First said.

“The blood had no place to go. I think that’s why he turned black and got so hard. It filled him up inside until something burst,” the young woman said.

“I examined him, and I agree with your assessment. The blood filled his stomach and some of his intestines. I believe part of the intestines burst,” the donier said.

“The intestines are the long tubes that lead to the outside?”

“Yes.”

“Jondalar taught me that word. They were damaged on Shevonar, too, I think, but it was the blood filling him up inside that made him die.”

“Yes. Thè small bone in his left lower leg was also broken, and his right wrist, but those would not have been fatal, of course,” Zelandoni said.

“No, and I wasn’t so concerned about those breaks, I just wondered if you knew of anything else that I could have done for him,” Ayla said, her earnest face full of concern.

“It bothers you that you couldn’t save him, doesn’t it?”

Ayla nodded and lowered her head.

“You did everything you could, Ayla. We will all walk in the world of the spirits someday. When Doni calls us, young or old, we have no choice. Not even a Zelandoni is gifted enough to stop it, or even to know when it will happen. That is a secret Doni shares with no one. She allowed the Spirit of the Bison to take Shevonar in exchange for the bison we took. It is a sacrifice She sometimes demands. Perhaps She felt we needed to be reminded that Her Gifts should not be taken for granted. We kill Her creatures so that we may live, but we need to appreciate the Gift of Life She has given us when we take the lives of Her animals. The Great Mother is not always gentle. Sometimes Her lessons are hard.”

“Yes. That is what I have learned. I do not think the Spirit World is a gentle place. The lessons are hard, but valuable,” Ayla said.

Zelandoni did not reply. She had found that people often kept talking to fill the gap if she did not respond immediately, and she learned more from her silence than she would have from asking questions. After a time, Ayla did continue.

“I remember when Creb told me that the Spirit of the Cave Lion had chosen me. He said the Cave Lion was a strong totem, who would offer powerful protection, but that strong totems are hard to live with. He told me if I paid attention, my totem would help me, and let me know when I’ve made the right decision, but he said totems test you to make sure you are worthy before they give you something. He also said the Cave Lion would not have chosen me if I was not worthy,” Ayla said. “Maybe he meant able to bear it.”

The donier was surprised at the depth of understanding Ayla’s comments showed. Were the people that she called Clan really capable of such perception? If she had said the Great Earth Mother instead of the Spirit of the Cave Lion, the words could have come from a Zelandoni.

Finally, The One Who Was First continued. “Nothing could be done for Shevonar, except to ease his pain, and you did that. Using a poultice was an intriguing approach. Did you learn that from your Clan woman?”

“No,” Ayla said, shaking her head. “I’ve never done that before. But he was in so much pain, and I knew with his injuries I couldn’t give him anything liquid to drink. I thought of using smoke. I’ve burned mullein to make a smoke that alleviates certain coughs, and I know plants that are sometimes burned in sweadodges, but I was afraid that it might make him cough, and with his damaged breathing sacs, I didn’t want to do that. Then I noticed the bruising, though it was more than that, I think. The bruise on his skin turned almost black after a while, but I know that certain plants can ease the pain of bruising when put on the skin, and I happened to notice some on the way here from the hunting surround. So I went back and got some. It seemed to help a little.”

“Yes, I think it did,” the donier said. “I may try that sometime myself. You do seem to have a natural, inborn sense about healing, Ayla. And I think it’s telling that you feel bad. Every good healer that I know is always bothered when someone is lost. But there was nothing more you could have done. The Mother decided to call him, and no one can thwart Her will.”

“You’re right, of course, Zelandoni. I didn’t think there was any hope, but I wanted to ask anyway. I know you have much to do, ánd I don’t want to take any more of your time,” Ayla said as she got up to leave. “Thank you for answering my questions.”

Zelandoni watched the young woman as she started to walk away. “Ayla,” she called. “I wonder if you would do something for me.”

“Of course, anything, Zelandoni,” she said.

“When we get back to the Ninth Cave, will you dig up some red ochre? There is an embankment near The River by the big rock. Do you know where that is?”

“Yes, I saw the ochre when Jondalar and I went swimming. It’s very bright red, more red than most. I’ll get some for you.”

“I will tell you how to purify your hands, and give you a special basket for it when we get back,” Zelandoni said.

I
t was a somber group of people that returned to the Ninth Cave the next day. The hunt had been eminently successful, but the cost had been too dear. As soon as they arrived, Joharran turned Shevonar’s body over to the zelandonia, to prepare it for burial. It was taken to the far end of the shelter, near the bridge up to Down River, to be ritually washed and dressed in his ceremonial clothing and jewelry by Zelandoni, Relona, and several others.

“Ayla,” Zelandoni called as she was walking back to Marthona’s dwelling. “We’re going to be needing that red ochre you said you would get for me.”

“I’ll go get it right away,” Ayla said.

“Come with me. I’ll give you a special basket and something to dig it with,” the woman said. Zelandoni led her to her dwelling and held the drape aside so Ayla could enter. She had never been inside the donier’s home before, and she looked around with interest. Something about it reminded her of Iza’s hearth, perhaps the many drying leaves and other parts of plants that were hanging from cords strung across the back end of the main room. There were several raised beds against the wall panels in the front part, though she was sure that was not where the large woman slept. There appeared to be two other rooms partitioned off. Glancing through the
opening, she saw that one of them appeared to be a cooking area. She guessed the other might be a sleeping room.

“Here’s the basket and the pick for collecting the red earth,” Zelandoni said, giving her a sturdy container stained red from use and an adzelike digging tool firmly attached to an antler handle.

Ayla left Zelandoni’s dwelling carrying the basket and pick. Zelandoni walked out with her and started toward the south end of the shelter. Wolf had found a place where he liked to rest on the stone porch, out of the way, but where he could watch the activities. When he saw Ayla, he immediately ran to her. The donier stopped.

“I think it might be wise if you kept Wolf away from the body of Shevonar,” she said. “For his own protection. Until the man is safely buried in sacred ground, his life spirit is floating free and very confused. I know how to protect people, but I’m not sure how to defend a wolf, and I am concerned that Shevonar’s elan might try to inhabit this animal. I have seen wolves go mad, and foam at the mouth. I believe they are trying to fight off something, maybe something evil or a bewildered spirit. The bite of such an animal will kill like a deadly poison.”

“I will look for Folara and ask her to watch him when I bring the red ochre,” Ayla said.

Wolf followed along behind her as she walked down the path toward the place where she and Jondalar had gone swimming and cleaned themselves shortly after they arrived. She filled the basket nearly full, then started back up the path. She saw Folara talking to her mother and explained Zelandoni’s request. The young woman grinned, delighted to stay with the wolf. Her mother had just asked her to come and help prepare the body. It was not something she wanted to do, and she knew Marthona would not refuse Ayla’s request.

“It may be best to keep him inside Marthona’s dwelling. If you want to go out, I have a special rope that can be put around his neck in a way that won’t choke him. Wolf doesn’t
like it much, but he’ll put up with it. Come with me and I’ll show you how to put it on him,” Ayla said.

Then she walked to the far end of the ledge and gave the red ochre to the First. She stayed to help clean and dress the body of Shevonar. Jondalar’s mother soon came to help as well—she had done it many times before—and told Ayla that Folara had invited several young people to their dwelling, and Wolf seemed content to be with them.

Ayla was intrigued by the clothing they put on the dead hunter, though she was reluctant to mention her interest at the time. The outfit consisted of a loose, soft tunic made of the furs of different animals, and hides tanned and colored in various shades that were sewn together into intricate patterns and accented with beads, shells, and fringes. The tunic was bloused and belted at the hips with a colorful band of woven fabric. The leggings, though less elaborate, matched the tunic, as did the calf-high foot coverings, which had a fringe and an edging of fur attached to the tops. Necklaces made of shells, beads, various animal teeth, and ivory carvings had been placed around his neck and artfully arranged.

Then the body was laid out on blocks of limestone, on top of a large, somewhat flexible blanket-size mat of grasses woven with designs that were colored with red ochre. Long cords were strung through each end, which, Marthona explained to Ayla, could be pulled together so that the mat would envelop him. The lengths of cordage would then be wrapped around the shrouded body and tied. Beneath the mat was a strong netting made of flax cordage, which could be slung from a pole like a hammock so that he could be carried to the sacred ground and lowered into the grave.