The Shelters of Stone (Earth's Children 5)

“I suppose you’re right,” Jondalar said. “But I wouldn’t mind a cup of tea to wash my mouth out with. I’m still tasting sleep.”

“They may have some tea for you to drink,” Jonokol said.

“I’ll bet they do, but I don’t think it’s mint, and that’s what I like first thing in the morning.”

“Zelandoni’s teas are often flavored with mint.”

“Flavored, yes, but it’s probably not the main ingredient.”

Jonokol just smiled.

“All right,” Jondalar said with a wry grin. “I’ll come right away. I hope no one minds if I go to pass water first.”

“It’s not necessary to hold your water,” the young acolyte said, “but bring something warm to wear.”

When Jondalar came back, he was both surprised and pleased to see Ayla waiting with Jonokol, tying the sleeves of a warm tunic around her waist. Jonokol had probably told her to bring something warm, too. Watching her, it occurred to him that the night before last was the first time he had not slept with Ayla since he was captured by the S’Armunai on their Journey, and it left him feeling rather unsettled.

“Hello, wom

an,” he whispered in her ear when he rubbed her cheek with his in greeting, then embraced her. “Where did you go this morning?”

“To empty the night basket,” Ayla said. “When I came back I saw Jonokol and he said Zelandoni wanted us, so I went to ask Folara if she would keep Wolf. She said she’d find some children to keep him occupied. I went down to check on the horses earlier. I heard some other horses nearby. I wonder if we should build a surround of some kind to keep them.”

“Perhaps,” Jondalar said. “Especially when it’s time for Whinney’s Pleasures. I’d hate to have a herd try to capture her, Racer would probably try to follow her.”

“She’ll have her foal first,” Ayla said.

Jonokol listened, interested in hearing about the horses. They had obviously gained knowledge in their association with them. Ayla and Jondalar left with Jonokol. When they reached the stone front porch of the Ninth Cave, Jondalar noticed that the sun was quite high.

“I didn’t know it was so late,” he said. “I wonder why someone didn’t get me up sooner?”

“Zelandoni suggested that you be allowed to sleep since you may be up late tonight,” Jonokol said.

Jondalar took a deep breath and blew it out of his mouth as he shook his head. “Where are we going, by the way?” he said as they walked beside the acolyte along the ledge toward Down River.

“To Fountain Rocks,” Jonokol said.

Jondalar’s eyes opened wide with surprise. Fountain Rocks—a cliff that featured two caves and the immediate area around it—was not the home of any particular Cave of Zelandonii; it was much more important than that. It was one of the most sacred places in the entire region. Though no one lived there regularly, if any group could call it home, it was the zelandonia, the Ones Who Served, for this was a place blessed and sanctified by the Great Earth Mother Herself.

“I am going to stop for a drink of water,” Jondalar said emphatically as they approached the bridge over the creek of fresh spring water that divided the Ninth Cave from Down River. He wasn’t going to let Jonokol talk him out of quenching his thirst, even if he had let the man dissuade him from having his morning cup of mint tea.

Near the streamlet a few feet from the bridge, a post had been pounded into the ground. A drinking cup made of cattail leaves torn into strips and woven watertight was attached to it with a cord; if it wasn’t attached, it was often lost. The cup was changed periodically as it became worn, but as long as Jondalar could remember, one had been there. It had been learned long ago that the sight of the fresh sparkling water invariably inspired thirst, and while a person could bend over and reach in with hands to get a drink, it was much easier to have a cup handy.

They all had a drink, then continued along the well-used trail. They forded The River at the Crossing, and at Two Rivers Rock turned into Grass Valley, crossed the second river, then followed the path alongside it. People from other Caves waved and greeted them as they passed by, but made no attempt to delay them. All the zelandonia of the area, including the acolytes, had already gone to Fountain Rocks, and everyone had a good idea where the two people with Zelandoni’s acolyte were going.

They also had some idea why. In the tight-knit community, word had gotten out that they had brought back something that might help the zelandonia to find the wandering spirit of Jondalar’s dead brother, Thonolan. Though they knew it was important to help guide a newly liberated elan to its proper place in the world of the spirits, the idea of entering the next world before they were called by the Mother was not something most people wanted to do. It was fearful enough to think about helping Shevonar’s elan, who had just passed on and was probably nearby, but to look for the spirit of someone who had died far away and a long time ago was something they didn’t even want to contemplate.

Not many, except for the zelandonia—and not all of those—would have wanted to trade places with Jondalar or Ayla. Most people were happy to let the Ones Who Served The Mother deal with the world of the spirits. But no one else could do it; only they knew where Jondalar’s brother had died. Even the One Who Was First knew this would be an exhausting day, though she was intrigued and wondered if they would be able to find Thonolan’s roving spirit.

As Ayla, Jondalar, and Jonokol continued upstream, an imposing outcrop of rock loomed ahead on the left. The massive rock stood out with such prominence that it seemed almost a monolith, but a closer look revealed that it was only the first spur of a progression of cliffs that pulled back in a line at right angles to Grass River. The stately stone at the head of the cliffs reared up from the valley floor, rounded to a bulge in the middle, narrowed toward the top, then abruptly flared out into a flat-topped jaunty cap.

Moving around to the front and looking straight on at the rock that extended out ahead, one could, with a little imagination, envision in the cracks and rounded shapes, the cap as hair, a high forehead below the cap, a flattened nose, and two nearly closed eyes enigmatically looking over a slope of scree and brush. To those who knew how to look, the subtly anthropomorphic front view was understood to be a hidden face of the Mother, one of the few visages of Herself She ever chose to show, and even that was well disguised. No one could ever look directly upon the face of the Mother, not so much as a likeness of it, and even mysteriously disguised, Her face held unspeakable power.

The row of cliffs flanked a smaller valley with a creek down the middle that ran into Grass River. The source of the small stream was a spring that bubbled out of the ground with such energy, it created a small fountain with a deep pool surrounding it in the middle of a wooded glen. The common name was Fountain of the Deep, and the small waterway running from it was called Fountain Creek, but the zelandonia had other names for them, which most people also knew. The spring and pool were the Birth Waters of the Mother, and the creek was the Blessed Water. They were known to have great powers to heal and particularly to help women conceive, if used œrrectly.

A path over twelve hundred feet long climbed up the side of the stone wall well beyond the leading spur to a terrace not far from the top, with a small rock overhang that sheltered the mouths of two caves. The numerous cavities in this region of limestone cliffs were sometimes called “caves,” but were thought of as hollowed-out spaces in the rock and often referred to as “hollows” as well. Conversely, an especially long or deep cave was sometimes referred to as a “deep.” The opening to the left on the small terrace penetrated the rock only twenty feet or so, and was used as a living space for those who stayed there from time to time, usually zelandonia. It was generally known as Fountain Hollow, but some referred to it as Doni’s Hollow.

The cave on the right led to a deep passage that went four hundred feet into the heart of the huge cliff, with chambers, alcoves, niches, and other passages leading off the main corridor. This was the place that was so sacred that its esoteric name was usually not even voiced. The site was so well-known, and so revered, it wasn’t necessary to declare its sanctity and power to the mundane world. If anything, those who knew its true meaning preferred to understate it, not make an issue of it in ordinary existence. That was the reason people referred to the cliffs simply as Fountain Rocks, and why the cave was called the Deep Cave in Fountain Rocks or, sometimes, Doni’s Deep.