The Shelters of Stone (63 page)

“I know,” Joharran said. “Could the ones who raised her really be the same as the ones around here? If they are, it worries me. They have not been treated well, I wonder why they haven’t retaliated? And what would happen if they should decide to strike back someday?”

“I don’t think it’s something we have to worry about now,” Proleva said, “and I’m sure we’ll learn more about them as we get to know Ayla better.” She paused, turning her head toward Jaradal’s sleeping place, and listened. She had heard a sound, but he was quiet now. Probably a dream, she thought, and turned back to her mate. “You know, they want to make her a Zelandonii woman before we leave, so it will be done before she and Jondalar are mated.”

“Yes, I know. Don’t you think it’s a little too soon? It seems as though we’ve known her much longer than we have, but it wasn’t that long ago that they arrived,” Joharran said. “I don’t usually mind doing what my mother proposes. She doesn’t make suggestions often, for all that she’s stài a powerful woman, and when she does, it’s generally something I hadn’t thought of, but makes sense. When the leadership was turned over to me, I wondered if she could really give it up,
but she wanted me to take it as much as the rest, and she has always been very careful not to interfere. But I can’t see a good reason to acknowledge Ayla so quickly. She’ll be considered one of us when she mates Jondalar anyway.”

“But not in her own right, only as the mate of Jondalar,” Proleva said. “Your mother is concerned about standing, Joharran. Remember Shevonar’s burial? As an outsider, Ayla should have walked at the back, but Jondalar insisted he would walk with her, wherever she walked. Your mother did not want her son walking behind Laramar. It would give the impression that the woman he was mating had little status. Then Zelandoni said she belonged with the healers, that’s why she was up front, but Laramar didn’t like it and he embarrassed Marthona.”

“I didn’t know that,” Joharran said.

“The problem is we don’t know how to judge Ayla’s rank,” Proleva said. “Apparently she was adopted by high-ranking Mamutoi, but how much do we know about them? It’s not like they’re Lanzadonii, or even Losadunai. I never even heard of them before, though some people claim they have. And she was raised by flatheads! What kind of position does that give her? If a high rank isn’t recognized for her, it could bring down Jondalar’s status and that would affect all our ‘names and ties,’ Marthona’s, yours, mine, all his kin.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Joharran said.

“Zelandoni is pushing to get her recognized, too. She is treating Ayla as though she is zelandonia, and an equal. I’m not sure what her reasons are, but she also seems determined to have her seen as a woman of high standing.” Proleva turned her head again in the direction of her son at a sound he was making. It was an automatic reaction that she hardly noticed. He must be having lively dreams, she thought.

Joharran was considering her comments, feeling rather pleased that his woman was both accomplished and astute. She was a real help to him, and he valued her talents. Just now it was her talent to clarify his mother’s motivations that he appreciated. He was a good listener and communicator in his own way, that was one reason why he was a skillful leader,
but he didn’t have her innate sense of the repercussions and innuendos of a situation.

“Will it be enough to have just us declaring acceptance?” Marthona asked, leaning forward.

“Joharran is leader, you are former leader and adviser, Willamar is Trade Master…”

“And you are First,” Marthona said, “but in spite of rank, we’re all kin, except you, Zelandoni, and everybody knows that you are a friend.”

“Who would object?”

“Laramar would.” Marthona was still vexed and somewhat embarrassed that Laramar had caught her in a breach of etiquette, and her face showed her irritation. “He’d make an issue of it, just to make trouble. He did it at the burial,” she said.

“I wasn’t aware of that. What did he do?” the large woman said. The two women were in her dwelling, drinking tea and chatting quietly. The donier was glad her latest patient had finally gone home, giving her back her privacy, where she could meditate in solitude and speak privately.

“He let me know that Ayla should have been at the end of the procession.”

“But she is a healer and belonged with the zelandonia,” the donier said.

“She may be a healer, but she is not zelandonia, whether she belongs there or not, and he knows it.”

“But what can he do?”

“He can bring it up, he is a member of the Ninth Cave. There may be others who feel as he does but would hesitate to mention it. If he does, those others may go along with him. I think we should get more people to agree to accept her,” Marthona said with a note of finality.

“You may be right. Whom do you suggest?” Zelandoni said. She took a sip of tea and frowned in thought.

“Stelona and her family might be a good possibility,” the former leader said. “According to Proleva, she was the first to agree to feeding Tremeda’s baby. She’s respected, well liked, and not related.”

“Who will ask her?”

“Joharran can, or perhaps I should. Woman to woman. What do you think?” Marthona said.

Zelandoni put her cup down and her frown deepened. “I think you should talk to her first, feel her out,” she said. “Then, if she seems agreeable, Joharran should ask her, but as a member of the family, not as leader. That way, it won’t be as though he is making an official request, and bringing the pressure of his leadership to it. It will be more that he is asking a favor.…”

“Which he would be,” Marthona said.

“Of course. But just the fact that it’s the leader who is making the request brings the force of his position to it. We all know his rank. It doesn’t need to be mentioned. And she might consider it a compliment that he would ask her. How well do you know her?” the First said.

“I know her, of course. Stelona is from a reliable family, but we haven’t had occasion to associate on a personal level. Proleva knows her better. She’s the one who asked her to come when Ayla wanted to talk about Tremeda’s baby. I do know she has been very cooperative whenever there are gatherings to organize, or food to be prepared, and I always see her helping out when there’s work to be done,” the older woman said.

“Then you should include Proleva, and take her with you when you go to see Stelona,” Zelandoni said. “Find out what she thinks would be the best way to approach her. If she likes to cooperate, and is willing to help, you might appeal to that side of her.”

The two women were silent for a time, sipping their tea and thinking. Then Marthona asked, “Do you want to keep the acceptance ceremony simple or make it more dramatic?”

Zelandoni looked at her and realized the woman had a reason for raising the question. “Why do you ask?” she said.

“Ayla showed me something that I think could make quite an impact, if it was handled properly,” Marthona said.

“What did she show you?”

“Have you ever seen her make fire?”

The large woman hesitated only a moment, then sat back and smiled. “Only the time she started one to get some water boiling for a calming drink for Willamar, when he came home and found out about Thonolan. She did say she was going to show me how she did it so fast, but I admit, it slipped my mind, what with the burial, and planning for the Summer Meeting, and everything else that’s been going on.”

“The fire was out when we got home one night, and she and Jondalar showed us. Willamar, Folara, and I have been making it her way ever since. It requires something she calls a firestone, and apparently they have found some nearby. I don’t know how many, but enough to share with some of the others,” Marthona said. “Why don’t you come over this evening? I know they planned to show you, they could do it then. In fact, why don’t you share a meal with us? I still have a little of that last batch of wine left.”

“I’d enjoy that. Yes, I will come.”

“As usual, Marthona, that was very good,” Zelandoni said, putting an empty cup down beside a nearly clean bowl. They were sitting on cushions and stuffed pads around the low table. Jondalar had been glancing and smiling at everyone all through the meal, as though he were anticipating something especially delicious. The donier admitted to herself that it did make her curious, though she had no intention of showing it.

She had lingered over her meal, regaling them with stories and anecdotes, encouraging Jondalar and Ayla to talk about their Journey, and inducing Willamar to tell of his travel adventures. It had been a thoroughly enjoyable evening for everyone, except that Folara looked as if she would burst with anticipation, and Jondalar was so smug and pleased with himself, it made the woman want to smile.

Willamar and Marthona were more accustomed to waiting until the time was right; it was a tactic often used in trade negotiations and dealings with other Caves. Ayla also seemed content to wait, but it was hard for the One Who Was First to fathom her real feelings. She didn’t know the foreign woman
well enough yet, she was an enigma, but that made her intriguing.

“If you are finished, we’d like you to move closer to the hearth,” Jondalar said with an eager smile.

The large woman hoisted herself up from the stack of pads upon which she was sitting and walked toward the cooking hearth. Jondalar rushed to pick up the pads and put them down near the fireplace, but Zelandoni remained standing.

“You might want to sit, Zelandoni,” Jondalar said. “We’re going to be putting all the fires out, and it will be as dark as a cave in here.”

“If you prefer,” she said, seating herself on the stack of pads.

Marthona and Willamar took their cushions with them and also sat while the younger people collected all the oil lamps and placed them around the hearth, including, Zelandoni was a little surprised to notice, the one from in front of the donii in the niche. Just bringing them all together made the rest of the dwelling much darker.

“Is everyone ready?” Jondalar said, and when the three who were waiting nodded, the others began to snuff out the small flames. No one spoke as each one went out. The shadows deepened until the encroaching darkness overtook every glimmer of light and permeated the entire space, creating an eerie sense of close, impenetrable thickness in the intangible air. It was as dark as a cave, but in the dwelling, which moments before had been filled with a warm golden glow, the effect was eerie, unnerving, and, curiously, more frightening than in the cold deeps. Darkness was expected there. It wasn’t that fires did not go out inside a dwelling, but that all the illumination was not purposely put out. It felt as if they were tempting chance. The mystic impact was not lost on the First.

But as time passed and eyes adjusted to the darkness, Zelandoni noticed that the deep black was slightly less. She still could not see the shape of her own hand in front of her eyes, but above the roofless dwelling, on the underside of the overhanging shelf, the light from other fires was faintly reflected into neighboring spaces. It wasn’t much, but it was not
quite as dark as a cave. She would have to remember that, she thought.

Her thoughts were distracted by a light nearby that was startling to eyes grown accustomed to the profound dark. It held for a long moment, highlighting Ayla’s face, then went out, but a moment later a small flame had started and was soon blazing.

“How did you do that?” she said.

“Do what?” Jondalar said, grinning widely.

“Start that fire so fast.” Zelandoni could see that everyone was smiling now.

“It’s the firestone!” Jondalar said, and held one out to show her. “When you strike it with flint, it makes a long-lasting, very hot spark, and with good dry tinder, if you aim it just right, it will catch and make a flame. Here, let me show you how it works.”

He made up a tinder bundle with fireweed fuzz and some shaved pieces of wood held in dried grass. The First got up from her padded seat and sat down on the floor near the fireplace. She preferred to sit on raised seats or chairs because it was easier to get up, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t get down if she wanted to or felt it was important enough. And this fire-making trick was. Jondalar demonstrated, then gave the stones to her. She tried it a few times with no success, frowning deeper with each attempt.

“You’ll get the technique,” Marthona encouraged. “Ayla, why don’t you show her.”

Ayla took the flint and iron pyrite, set the fire bundle just so, and carefully showed the woman the position of her hands. Then she struck off a spark that landed on the tinder. It sent up a thin wisp of smoke, which she crushed out; then she gave the stones back to Zelandoni.

The woman held them in front of her and started to strike, but Ayla stopped her and changed the position of her hands. She tried again. This time she watched a hot spark land close to the tinder, and changed her own hand position slightly, and struck. This time the spark found the tinder. She knew what to do then. She picked up the bundle, held it close
to her face, and blew. The tiny start turned bright red. The second breath of air turned the fireweed down into a small flame, and the third caught the shaved wood on fire. The donier put it down and started feeding it small pieces of wood and then larger ones. Then she sat back and smiled, pleased with her accomplishment.

Everyone else was smiling, too, and offering comments of approval all at once. “You caught on fast,” Folara said. “I knew you could do it,” Jondalar said. “I told you, it’s just a matter of technique,” Marthona said. “Well done!” Willamar said. “Now, try it again,” Ayla said. “Yes, that’s a good idea,” Marthona said.

The One Who Was First Among Those Who Served The Mother dutifully did as she was directed. She made fire the second time, but then had trouble the third time until Ayla showed her that she wasn’t drawing a good spark and how to strike the stones at a different angle. After the third successful try, she stopped, got up, and sat down again on her padded seat and looked at Ayla.

“I will work on this at home,” she said. “The first time I do it in public, I want to be as sure as you. But tell me, where did you learn to do this?”