The Shelters Of Stone Part 12

"They do," he said. "Most of them."

"But not everyone. Not your former women friends. Maybe you should tell me who else I should watch out for," Ayla said.

"Ayla, don't let Marona color your opinion about everyone else. Couldn't you tell how much most people liked you? Give them a chance."

"What about the ones who tease orphan boys and turn them into Brouds?"

"Most people are not like that, Ayla," he said, looking at her with a troubled expression.

She exhaled a long sigh. "No, you're right. Your mother is not like that, or your sister, or the rest of your kin. Even Brukeval was very nice to me. It's just that the last time I saw that expression was when Broud told Goov to put a death curse on me. I'm sorry, Jondalar. I'm just tired." Suddenly she reached for him, buried her face in his neck, and let out a sob. "I wanted to make a good impression on your people, and make new friends, but those women didn't want to be friends. They just pretended they did."

"You did make a good impression, Ayla. You couldn't have made a better one. Marona always did have a temper, but I was sure she would find someone else while I was gone. She is very attractive, everyone always said she was the Beauty of the Bunch, the most desirable woman at every Summer Meeting. I guess that's why everyone expected us to mate," he said.

"Because you were the most handsome and she was the most beautiful?" Ayla asked.

"I suppose," he said, feeling himself flush and glad for the faint light. "I don't know why she isn't mated now."

"She said she was, but it didn't last."

"I know. But why didn't she find someone else? It's not like she suddenly forgot how to Pleasure a man, or became less attractive and desirable."

"Maybe she did, Jondalar. If you didn't want her, maybe other men decided to look again. A woman who is willing to hurt someone she doesn't even know may be less attractive than you think," Ayla said as she pulled the leggings off one leg.

Jondalar frowned. "I hope it's not my fault. It's bad enough that I left her in such a predicament. I would hate to think I made it impossible for her to find another mate."

Ayla looked at him quizzically. "Why would you think that?"

"Didn't you say that maybe if I didn't want her, other men..."

"Other men might look again. If they didn't like what they saw, how is that your fault?"

"Well...ah ..."

"You can blame yourself for leaving without explaining. I'm sure she was hurt and embarra.s.sed. But she has had five years to find someone else, and you said she is considered very desirable. If she couldn't find someone else, it's not your fault, Jondalar," Ayla said.

Jondalar paused, then nodded. "You're right," he said, and continued removing his clothing. "Let's go to sleep. Things will look better in the morning."

As she crawled into her warm and comfortable sleeping furs, Ayla had another thought. "If Marona is so good at 'Pleasuring,' I wonder why she doesn't have any children?"

Jondalar chuckled. "I hope you are right about Doni's Gift making children. It would be like two Gifts ..." He stopped as he was lifting his side of the covers. "But you're right! She doesn't have any children."

"Don't hold the cover up like that! It's cold!" she said in a loud whisper.

He quickly got into the sleeping roll and snuggled his naked body next to hers. "That could be the reason she never mated," he continued, "or at least part of it. When a man decides to mate, he usually wants a woman who can bring children to his hearth. A woman can have children, and stay at her mother's hearth, or even make her own hearth, but the only way a man can have children at his hearth is to mate a woman so she can bring her children to it. If Marona mated and didn't have any children, it could make her less desirable."

"That would be a shame," Ayla said, feeling a sudden stab of empathy. She knew how much she wanted children. She had wanted a baby of her own from the time she watched Iza give birth to Uba, and she was sure that it was Broud's hatred that had given her one. It was his hatred that had caused him to force her, and if he hadn't forced her, no new life would have started growing inside her.

She didn't know it at the time, of course, but looking closely at her son had made her understand. Brun's clan had never seen a child like hers, and since her son didn't look quite like her-like the Others-they thought he was a deformed child of the Clan; but she could see he was a mixture. He had some of her characteristics and some of theirs, and with a sudden insight, she had realized that when a man put his organ in that place where babies came from, somehow it made new life start. It wasn't what the Clan believed, and it wasn't what Jondalar's people or any of the Others believed, but Ayla was convinced it was true.

Lying next to Jondalar, knowing she was carrying his baby inside her, Ayla felt a pang of pity and sorrow for the woman who had lost him and, perhaps, could not have children. Could she really blame Marona for being upset? How would she feel if she lost Jondalar? Tears threatened at the thought, and a flush of warmth at her good fortune washed over her.

It was a nasty trick, though, and it could have turned out far worse than it did. Ayla couldn't help getting angry, and she hadn't known what they would do when she decided to face them all down. They all might have turned on her. She might feel sympathy for Marona, but she didn't have to like her. And then there was Brukeval. His Clan look had made her feel friendly toward him, but now she was wary.

Jondalar held her until he thought she was asleep, trying to stay awake until he was sure. Then he closed his eyes and slept, too. But Ayla woke up in the middle of the night, feeling a pressure and needing to relieve herself. Wolf silently followed her to the night basket near the entrance. When she got back into bed, he curled up next to her. She felt grateful for the warmth and protection of the wolf on one side and the man on the other, but it was a long time before she fell asleep again.

8.

Ayla slept late. When she sat up and looked around, Jondalar was gone, and Wolf, too. She was alone in the dwelling, but someone had left a full waterbag and a closely woven, watertight basin so she could freshen herself. A carved wooden cup nearby held a liquid. It smelled like mint tea, cold, but she was in no mood to drink anything at the moment.

She got up to use the large basket that was beside the door to relieve herself-she definitely noticed an increased frequency of need. Then she grabbed her amulet and quickly pulled it off to get it out of the way before she used the basin, not to wash herself, but to hold the results of her queasy stomach. Her nausea seemed worse than usual this morning. Laramar's barma, she thought. Morning-after sickness along with morning sickness. I think I'll forgo the drink from now on. It's probably not good for me right now anyway, or the baby.

When she had emptied her stomach, she used the mint tea to rinse out her mouth. She noticed that someone had placed the bundle of clean but stained clothes she had originally planned to wear the night before near her sleeping furs. As she put them on, she recalled leaving them just inside the entrance. She did intend to keep the outfit Marona had given her, partly because she was determined to wear the clothing again on principle, but also because it was comfortable and she really couldn't see anything wrong with wearing it. Not today, though.

She tied on the st.u.r.dy waist thong that she had worn while traveling, adjusted the knife sheath into its comfortably familiar place and arranged the rest of the dangling implements and pouches, and slipped her amulet bag back over her head. She picked up the smelly basin and carried it out with her, but she left it near the entrance, not quite sure where to dispose of its contents, and went to look for someone to ask. A woman with a child, who was approaching the dwelling, greeted her. From somewhere in the depths of her memory, Ayla came up with a name.

"Pleasant day to you...Ramara. Is this your son?"

"Yes. Robenan wants to play with Jaradal, and I was looking for Proleva. She wasn't at home, and I wondered if they were here."

"No one is in the dwelling. When I got up, everyone was gone. I don't know where they are. I'm feeling very lazy this morning. I slept rather late," Ayla said.

"Most people did," Ramara said. "Not many people felt like getting up early after the celebration last night. Laramar makes a potent drink. It's what he's known for-the only thing he's known for."

Ayla detected a tone of disdain in the woman's comments. It made her feel a little hesitation about asking Ramara where there was an appropriate place to dispose of her morning mess, but there was no one else nearby, and she didn't want to leave it.

"Ramara...I wonder if I could ask you, where can I...get rid of some...waste?"

The woman looked puzzled for a moment, then glanced in the direction that Ayla had inadvertently looked, and smiled. "You want the toilet trenches, I think. See over there, toward the eastern edge of the terrace, not out front where the signal fires are lit, but toward the back. There's a path."

"Yes, I see it," Ayla said.

"It goes uphill," Ramara continued. "Follow that a little way and you will come to a split. The left trail is steeper. It continues up and will take you to the top of this cliff. But take the right path. It curves up around the side until you can see Wood River below. A little beyond is a level open field with several trenches-you'll smell it before you get there," Ramara said. "It has been a while since we dusted it, and you can tell."

Ayla shook her head. "Dusted it?"

"Sprinkled it with cooked cliff dust. We do it all the time, but I don't suppose all people do," Ramara said, bending over and picking up Robenan, who was getting restless.

"How do you cook cliff dust? And why?" Ayla asked.

"How you do it is to start with cliff rock, pound it into dust, and heat it in a hot fire-we use the signal fire hearth-then strew it in the trenches. Why is because it takes away a lot of the smell, or covers it up. But when you pa.s.s water or add liquid, the dust tends to get hard again, and when the trenches fill up with waste and hardened rock dust, you have to dig new ones, which is a lot of work. So we don't like to dust them too often. But they need it now. We have a big Cave, and the trenches get used a lot. Just follow the path. You shouldn't have any trouble locating them."

"I'm sure I'll find them. Thank you, Ramara," Ayla said as the woman left.

She started to pick up the bowl, had another thought, and ducked inside to get the waterbag so she could rinse out the woven basin. Then she picked up the smelly thing and started for the path. Gathering and storing food for such a large Cave of people is a lot of work, she thought as she headed along the trail, but so is taking care of the waste. Brun's clan just went outside, the women in one place, the men in another, and they changed their places every so often. Ayla thought about the process Ramara had explained and was intrigued.

The heating, or calcining, of limestone to get quicklime and using it to decrease the smell of waste products was not a practice she was familiar with, but for people who lived in limestone cliffs and used fire continuously, quicklime was a natural by-product. After cleaning a hearth of ashes, which would invariably include the accidentally acc.u.mulated lime, and dumping them on a pile of other waste materials, it wouldn't take long for the deodorizing effect to be noticed.

With so many people living in one place, more or less permanently except during the summer when various groups of them were gone for periods of time, there were many tasks that required the effort and cooperation of the entire community, such as digging toilet trenches or, as she had just learned, roasting the limestone cliff rocks to make quicklime.

The sun was near its zenith before Ayla returned from the trench field. She found a sunny place near the back path to dry and air out the woven bowl, then decided to check on the horses and refill the waterbag at the same time. Several people greeted her when she reached the front terrace, some of whose names she recalled, but not all. She smiled and nodded in return, but felt a trifle embarra.s.sed about those she couldn't remember. She took it as a failure of memory on her part and made a decision to learn who everyone was as soon as possible.

She remembered feeling the same way when members of Brun's clan let it be known that they thought she was somewhat slow because she couldn't remember as well as Clan youngsters. As a result, because she wanted to fit in with the people who had found and adopted her, she disciplined herself to remember what she was taught the first time it was explained. She didn't know that in the process of exercising her native intelligence to retain what she learned, she was training her own memorizing ability far beyond that which was normal for her own kind.

As time went on, she grew to understand that their memory worked differently from hers. Though she didn't fully understand what they were, she knew that people of the Clan had "memories" that she did not have, not in the same way. In a form of instinct that had evolved along a somewhat divergent track, the people of the Clan were born with most of the knowledge they would need to survive, information that over time had been a.s.similated into the genes of their individual ancestors in the same way that instinctive knowledge was acquired by any animal, including the human one.

Rather than having to learn and memorize, as Ayla did, Clan children only had to be "reminded" once in order to trigger their inherent racial memories. The people of the Clan knew a great deal about their ancient world and how to live in it, and once they learned something new, they never forgot; but unlike Ayla and her kind, they did not learn new things easily. Change was hard for them, but when the Others arrived in their land, they brought change with them.

Whinney and Racer were not where she had left them in the horse meadow, but were grazing farther up the valley, away from the more well-used area that was close to the confluence of Wood River with The River. When Whinney saw her, the mare dropped her head, flipped it up, and described a circle in the air with her nose. Then she arched her neck, lowered her head, and, with tail outstretched, ran toward the woman, eagerly happy to see her. Racer pranced alongside his dam with his neck proudly arched, ears forward and tail up, high-stepping toward her in a smooth-striding canter.

They nickered greetings. Ayla responded in kind and smiled. "What are you two so happy about?" she said, using Clan signs and the language of words she had invented for herself in her valley. It was the way she had talked to Whinney from the beginning, and the way she still talked to the horses. She knew they didn't entirely understand her, but they did recognize some of the words and certain of the signals, as well as the tone of voice that conveyed her delight in seeing them.

"You certainly are full of yourselves today. Do you know we've reached the end of our Journey and won't be traveling anymore?" she continued. "Do you like this place? I hope so." She reached out to scratch the mare in the places she liked, and then the stallion, then she felt around Whinney's sides and belly, trying to determine if she was carrying a foal after her tryst with the stallion.

"It's too early to tell for sure, but I think you are going to have a baby, too, Whinney. Even I don't show that much yet and I've already missed my second moon time." She examined herself the same way she had checked out the mare, thinking, my waist is thicker, my belly is rounder, my b.r.e.a.s.t.s are sore and a little bigger. "And I get sick in the morning," she continued saying and signing, "but only a little when I first get up, not like before, when I was sick all the time. I don't think there's any doubt that I'm pregnant, but I'm feeling good right now. Good enough to go for a ride. How would you like a little exercise, Whinney?"

The horse flipped up her head again, as if in reply.

I wonder where Jondalar is? I trunk I'll look for him and see if he wants to ride, she said to herself. I'll get the riding blanket, too, it is more comfortable, but bareback for now.

With a practiced, fluid movement, she grabbed the end of Whinney's short, stand-up mane and leapt onto her back, then headed toward the abri. She directed the horse with the tension of her leg muscles, without thinking about it-after so long, it was second nature-but she let the mare go at her own pace and just rode. She heard Racer following behind, as he was accustomed to doing.

I wonder how long I'll be able to jump on like that? I'll need to step up on something to reach her back when I get big, Ayla thought, then she almost hugged herself with pleasure at the idea that she was going to have a baby. Her thoughts strayed back to the long Journey they had just completed, and to the day before. She had met so many people, it was hard to remember them all, but Jondalar was right: most people were not bad. I shouldn't let the few who are unpleasant-Marona, and Brukeval when he behaved like Broud-spoil good feelings toward the rest. I wonder why it's easier to remember the bad ones. Maybe because there aren't many.

The day was warm; the hot sun warmed even the steady wind. As Ayla neared a small tributary, not much more than a trickle, but quick and sparkling, she looked upstream and saw a little waterfall coming down the rock face. She felt thirsty and, remembering that she had wanted to fill the waterbag, turned toward the water glinting down the side of the cliff.

She got off her horse, and they all took a drink from the pool at the bottom of the falls, Ayla from cupped hands, then she filled the waterbag with the cold, fresh liquid. She sat there a while, feeling refreshed and still a bit indolent, picking up small pebbles and idly tossing them into the water. Her eyes scanned the unfamiliar terrain, unconsciously noting details. She picked up another stone, rolled it in her hand, feeling the texture, looking at it but not seeing it, then tossed it.

It took a while for the character of the stone to penetrate her consciousness. Then she scrambled around to find it again, and when she picked it up-or one like it-she looked at it more carefully. It was a small, grayish-gold nodule, with the sharp angles and flat sides of its inherent crystal structure. Suddenly she reached for the flint knife she carried in the sheath on her belt and struck the stone with the back of it. Sparks flew! She struck it again.

"This is a firestone!" she shouted aloud.

She hadn't seen any since she left her valley. She looked closely at the stones and pebbles on the ground in and near the streambed, and spied another piece of iron pyrite, and then another. She picked up several as her excitement grew.

She sat back on her heels, looking at her small pile of similar stones. There are firestones here! Now we won't have to be so careful with the ones we have, we can get more. She could hardly wait to show Jondalar.

She gathered them up and a few more that she noticed, then whistled for Whinney, who had strayed off toward a patch of succulent green. But just before she made ready to mount, she saw Jondalar striding in their direction. Wolf at his side.

"Jondalar!" she called out, running toward him. "Look what I found!" she said, holding out several of the pieces of iron pyrite as she ran. "Firestones! There are firestones around here. They're all over this stream!"

He hurried toward her, beaming a great smile, as much in response to her exuberant delight as for the remarkable find. "I didn't know they were so close, but then I never much paid attention to this kind of stone, I was always looking for flint. Show me where you found them."

She took him to the little pool at the foot of the waterfall, then trained her eyes on the rocks of the streambed and along the sides of the diminutive waterway. "Look!" she said triumphandy. "There's another one," pointing at a stone on the bank.

Jondalar knelt down and picked it up. "You're right! This will make a difference, Ayla. It could mean firestones for everybody. If they are here, there may be other places nearby that have them, too. No one even knows about them yet, I haven't had a chance to tell anyone."

"Folara knows, and Zelandoni," Ayla said.

"How do they know?"

"Remember the calming tea Zelandoni made for Willamar when you told him about your brother? I made Folara nervous when I used a firestone to start the fire that had gone out, so I promised her I'd show her how they worked. She told Zelandoni," Ayla said.

"So Zelandoni knows. Somehow she always ends up knowing about things first," Jondalar said. "But we'll have to come back and look for more, later. Right now, some people want to talk to you."

"About the Clan?" she guessed.

"Joharran came and got me this morning for a meeting, before I really wanted to get up, but I made him let you sleep. I've been talking about our meeting with Guban and Yorga. They're very interested, but it's hard for them to believe the Clan are people and not animals. Zelandoni has been a.n.a.lyzing some of the Elder Legends more closely-she's the one who knows about the history of the Zelandonii-trying to see if there are any hints about flatheads...the Clan...living around here before the Zelandonii. When Ramara said you were up, Joharran wanted me to get you," Jondalar said. "He's not the only one with a lot of questions."

Jondalar had brought Racer's rope halter with him, but the frisky young stallion balked a bit, still feeling playful. With some patience, and scratching of itchy places, the horse finally acquiesced. The man mounted and they started back through the open woodlands of the small valley.

Jondalar pulled up to ride beside Ayla and, after some hesitation, remarked, "Ramara said when she talked to you this morning, that she thought you were sick, perhaps not used to Laramar's barma. How are you feeling?"

It's going to be hard to keep secrets around here, Ayla thought. "I'm fine, Jondalar," she said.

"He does make a strong brew. You weren't feeling too well last night."

"I was tired last night," Ayla said. "And this morning, it was just a little sickness, because I'm going to have a baby." From his expression, she suspected he was concerned about more than her morning sickness.

"It was a full day. You met a lot of people."

"And I liked most of them," she said, looking at him with a little grin. "I'm just not used to so many at one time. It's like a whole Clan Gathering. I can't even remember everyone's name."

"You just met them. No one expects you to remember them all."

They dismounted in the horse meadow and left the horses at the foot of the path. As she glanced up, Ayla noticed the Falling Stone silhouetted against the clear sky, and for a moment, it seemed to emanate a strange glow; but when she blinked, it was gone. The sun is bright, she thought. I must have looked at it without shading my eyes.

Wolf appeared out of the high gra.s.s; he had followed them in a desultory way, exploring small holes and chasing interesting scents. When he saw Ayla standing still, blinking, he decided it was time to properly greet the alpha leader of his pack. The huge canine caught her off guard when he jumped up and put his paws on the front of her shoulders. She staggered a bit, but caught herself and braced to hold his weight as he licked her jaw and held it in his teeth.

"Good morning, Wolf!" she said, holding his s.h.a.ggy ruff in both hands. "I think you're feeling full of yourself today, too. Just like the horses." He dropped down and followed her up the path, ignoring the gawks of those who had not seen that particular display of affection before, and the smirks of those who had and were enjoying the reaction. Ayla signaled him to stay with her.

She thought about stopping at Marthona's dwelling to leave the full waterbag, but Jondalar continued beyond the dwelling area and she walked with him. They pa.s.sed by the work area toward the southwest end of the overhang. Ahead, Ayla saw several people standing and sitting near the remains of the previous night's bonfire.

"There you are!" Joharran said, getting up from a small block of limestone and coming toward them.

As they got closer, Ayla noticed a small fire burning at the edge of the large blackened ring. Nearby was a deep basket, which was filled with steaming liquid upon which floated bits of leaves and other vegetal material. It was coated with something dark, and her nose detected the scent of pine pitch, which had been used to keep it watertight.

Proleva ladled some into a cup. "Have some hot tea, Ayla," she said, extending the cup to her.

"Thank you," Ayla said, taking the cup. She took a drink. It was a nice blend of herbs, with just a hint of pine. She drank more, then realized that she would have preferred something solid. The liquid was making her stomach queasy again, and her head was aching. She noticed an unoccupied stone block and sat down, hoping her stomach would settle. Wolf lay down at her feet. She held the cup in her hand without drinking and wished she had brewed some of the special "morning after" drink she had developed for Talut, the Mamutoi headman of the Lion Camp.

Zelandoni looked at Ayla closely and thought she detected some familiar signs. "This might be an appropriate rime to stop for a bite to eat. Are there any leftovers from last night?" she said to Proleva.

"That's a good idea," Marthona said. "It's after midday. Have you had anything to eat yet, Ayla?"