The Plains of Passage (Earth's Children 4)

"That's what you say, but we don't even know you," Charoli said. "You're a stranger, not even Losadunai. We're not going back. We don't need anyone. We have our own Cave."

"Is that why you need to steal food and force women?" Ayla said. "A Cave without women at your hearths is no Cave."

Charoli tried to assume a casual tone. "We don't need to listen to this. We'll take what we want, when we want—food, women. No one has stopped us before, and no one is going to now. Come on, let's get away from here," he said, turning to leave.

"Charoli!" Jondalar said, calling after the young man and catching up in a few strides.

"What do you want?"

"I have something to give you," the big man said.

Then, without warning, Jondalar doubled up his fist and rammed it into Charoli's face. Charoli's head jerked back and he was lifted off his feet by the stunning blow.

"That's for Madenia!" Jondalar said, looking down at the man sprawled out on the ground. Then he turned on his heel and walked away.

Ayla looked at the dazed young man. A trickle of blood flowed from the corner of his mouth, but she made no move to offer assistance. Two of his friends helped him up. Then she turned her attention to the band of young men, eying each one individually. They were a sorry-looking lot, unkempt and dirty, their clothes tattered and grimy. Their gaunt faces spoke of hunger, too. No wonder they had stolen food. They were in need of the help and support from the family and friends of a Cave. Perhaps the unrestricted life of roaming freely with Charoli's band had begun to lose its appeal and they were ready to return.

"They are looking for you," she said.

"Everyone has agreed that you have gone too far, even Tomasi, who is kin to Charoli. If you return to your Caves and take what's coming to you, you may have a chance to join your families again. If you wait until they find you, it will go worse for you."

Is that why She was here? Had She come to warn them, Danasi wondered, before it was too late? If they returned before they were found, and tried to make amends, would their Caves take them back?

After Charoli's band left, Ayla approached the Clan couple. They had watched with amazement both Ayla's direct confrontation of the men and Jondalar's final punch that had knocked the other man down. Men of the Clan never hit other men of the Clan, but all the men of the Others were strange. They looked something like men, but they didn't act much like men, especially the man that had been struck. All the clans knew about him, and the man on the ground had to admit that he felt a certain satisfaction in seeing that one downed. He was even more pleased to see them all go.

Now he wished the other two would go. Their actions had been so unexpected that they made him uncomfortable. He just wanted to get back to his clan, although he didn't know how he was going to do it with a broken leg. Ayla's next gesture took both the man and woman completely by surprise. Even Jondalar could see their stunned confusion. She gracefully lowered herself to a cross-legged position in front of the man and looked demurely down at the ground.

Jondalar was surprised himself. She had done that to him on occasion, usually when she had something important to say to him and was frustrated because she couldn't find the words to express herself, but this was the first time he had ever seen her use that posture in its proper context. It was a gesture of respect. She was requesting permission to address him, but it astonished the tall man to see Ayla, who was so capable and independent, approach this flathead, this man of the Clan, with such deference. She had tried to explain to him once that it was courtesy, tradition, their manner of speaking, and not necessarily denigrating, but Jondalar knew that no Zelandonii woman, or any other woman he knew, would ever approach anyone, man or woman, in that way.

As Ayla sat patiently waiting for the man to tap her shoulder, she wasn't even sure if the sign language of these Clan people was the same as the language of the clan that had raised her. The distance between them was great, and these people had a different look. But she had noticed similarities of spoken languages, although the farther apart people lived, the less alike the language was. She could only hope that the sign language of these people would also be similar.

She thought their gestural language, like much of their knowledge and patterns of activities, came from their memories; the racial memories, akin to instinct, that each child was born with. If these people of the Clan came from the same ancient beginnings as the ones she had known, their language should be, at least, similar.

As she waited nervously, she began to wonder if the man had any idea what she was trying to do. Then she felt a tap on her shoulder and took a deep breath. It had been a long time since she had spoken with people of the Clan, not since she had been cursed. ... She had to forget about that. She couldn't let these people know that she was dead as far as the Clan was concerned or they would cease to see her, just as though she didn't exist. She looked up at the man, and they studied each other.

He could see no hint of Clan in her. She was a woman of the Others. She was not like one of those that seemed oddly deformed by a mixture of spirits, the way so many were born these days. But where had this woman of the Others learned the correct way to address a man?

Ayla had not seen a Clan face for many years, and his was a true Clan face, but it was not quite like the faces of the people she had known. His hair and beard were a lighter brown and appeared soft, and not quite as curly. His eyes were lighter, too, brown, but not the deep, liquid, almost black eyes of her people. His features were stronger, more accentuated: his brow ridges were heavier, his nose sharper, his face jutted out farther, his forehead even seemed to sweep back more abruptly, and his head was longer. He seemed somehow more Clan than her Clan.

Ayla started speaking with the gestures and words of the everyday language of Brun's clan, the language of the Clan she had learned as a child. It was immediately apparent that he did not understand. Then the man made some sounds. They had the tone and quality of voice of the Clan, rather guttural with the vowels almost swallowed, and she strained to understand.

The man had a broken leg and she wanted to help him, but she also wanted to know more about these Clan people. In a certain way, she felt more comfortable around them than the people of the Others. But to help him, she needed to communicate with him, to make him understand. He spoke again and made signs. The gestures seemed as though they ought to be familiar, but she couldn't make sense of them, and his word sounds were not familiar to her at all. Was the language of her Clan so different that she wouldn't be able to communicate with the clans in this region?

40

Ayla thought about how to make herself understood to the man of the Clan, glancing at the young woman sitting nearby, who looked nervous and upset. Then, remembering the Clan Gathering, she tried the ancient, formal, and primarily silent language that was used to address the world of the spirits, and to communicate with other clans that had a different common language.

The man nodded and made a gesture. Ayla felt a great wash of relief when she found that she understood him, and a rush of excitement. These people did come from the same beginnings as her Clan! Sometime, in some far distant past, this man had the same ancestors as Creb and Iza. With a sudden insight, she recalled a strange vision, and knew that she, too, shared roots, even more ancient, with him, but her line had diverged, taken a different path.

Jondalar watched, fascinated, as they began to talk with signs. It was hard to follow the quick flowing movements they made, which gave him a sense of much greater complexity and subtlety to the language than he had supposed. When Ayla had taught people of the Lion Camp some of the Clan sign language so that Rydag could communicate with them for the first time in his life—the formal language because it was easier for the youngster to learn—she had taught them only the basic rudiments. The boy had always enjoyed talking with her more than anyone. Jondalar had guessed that Rydag could communicate with her more fully, but he was beginning to understand the range and depth of the language.

Ayla was surprised when the man skipped over some of the formalities of introduction. He didn't establish names, places, or kinship lines. "Woman of the Others, this man would know where you learned to speak."

"When this woman was a young child, family and people were lost to an earthquake. This woman was raised by a clan," she explained.

"This man knows of no clan that took in a child of the Others," the man signed.

"The clan of this woman lives far away. Does the man know of the river known to the Others as Great Mother?"