The Shelters of Stone (Earth's Children 5)

“And he does drink a lot of it himself,” Joharran said. “Tremeda does, too. I think he gives a good measure away. There is always a bunch around him hoping for drinks. I

think he likes to have them around. He probably thinks they’re his friends, but I wonder how long they’d stay if he stopped giving them barma.”

“Not long, I’d guess,” Willamar said. “But I don’t think Laramar and his friends are the ones to decide whether Ayla becomes Zelandonii.”

“You are right, Trade Master. I think there’s no question that we would have no problem accepting Ayla, but maybe we should let Ayla decide,” Zelandoni said. “No one has asked her if she wants to be a woman of the Zelandonii.”

All heads turned to look at her. Now she was the one who felt uncomfortable. It was a while before she said anything, which made Jondalar a bit nervous. Maybe he had misjudged her. Maybe she didn’t want to become Zelandonii. Maybe he should have asked her first before he started this, but with all the talk about Matrimonials, it seemed an appropriate time. Finally Ayla spoke.

“When I decided to leave the Mamutoi and go with Jondalar back to his home, I knew how the Zelandonii felt about the Clan, the people who raised me, and I knew that you might not want me. I admit I was a little afraid to meet his family, his people.” She stopped for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts and find the right words to say what she felt.

“I’m a stranger to you, a foreign woman, with strange ideas and ways. I brought animals that live with me and asked you to accept them. Horses are animals that are usually hunted, and I wanted you to make a place for them. I have just been thinking today that I would like to make a covered shelter for them at the south end of the Ninth Cave, not far from Down River. During the winter, the horses are used to having a refuge that is out of the weather. I also brought a wolf, a meat-eating hunter. Some of his kind have been known to attack people, and I asked you to allow me to bring him inside, to sleep in the same dwelling that I sleep in.” She smiled at Jondalar’s mother.

“You didn’t hesitate, Marthona. You invited me and Wolf to share your home. And Joharran, you allowed the horses to stay nearby, and let me take them right up. on the ledge in front of your dwellings. Brun, the leader of my cfan, would not have. You all listened when I explained about the Clan, and you didn’t turn me away. You were willing to consider that the ones you call flatheads might be people, perhaps a different kind of people, but not animals. I didn’t expect that you would be so thoughtful, but I am grateful.

“It’s true that not everyone has been kind, but many more of you have defended me, though you hardly know me. I’ve been here only a short rime. It may be because of Jondalar, because you trust that he would not bring someone who would try to harm his people or that you could not accept.” She stopped and closed her eyes for a moment, then continued.

“For all my fears about meeting Jondalar’s family and his people, the Zelandonii, when I left I knew there would be no turning back. I didn’t know how you would feel about me, but it didn’t matter. I love Jondalar. I want to spend my life with him. I was willing to do whatever was needed, to put up with whatever I had to, to be with him. But you have welcomed me, and now you ask if I want to become Zelandonii.” She closed her eyes to maintain her control and tried to swallow the fullness in her throat.

“I have wanted that since I first saw Jondalar, and wasn’t even sure if he would live. I grieved for his brother, not because I knew him, but because I recognized him. It troubled me that I would never have an opportunity to know one of the first people of my own kind that I could remember seeing. I don’t know what language I spoke before the Clan found me and took me in. I learned to communicate the way the Clan does, but the first language I can remember speaking is Zelandonii. Even if I don’t speak it quite right, I think of it as my language. But before we could even speak to each other, I wished that I was one of Jondalar’s people so that I would be acceptable to him, so that someday he might consider me for his mate. Even if it was his second or third woman, it would have been enough.

“You ask me, do I want to be a Zelandonii woman? Oh, yes, I want to be a Zelandonii woman. With all my heart I want to be a Zelandonii woman. I want that more than I have ever wanted anything in my life,” she said, her eyes sparkling with tears.

There was a stunned silence. Without even realizing how he got there, Jondalar had taken the few steps to reach her and take her in his arms. He felt so much for her, there were no words to convey it. He thought it was amazing that she could be so strong and yet so vulnerable. There wasn’t a person there who wasn’t moved. Even Jaradal had some understanding of what she said. Folara’s cheeks were wet with tears, and several others were close to it. Marthona was the first to regain her composure.

“I, for one, am happy to welcome you to the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii,” she said, hugging her in a spontaneous gesture. “And I’ll be glad to see Jondalar settle down with you, though there may be several women who would wish otherwise. Women have always loved him, but I sometimes doubted that he would find a woman he could love. I thought that he might not choose someone from among our people, but I didn’t think he would have to travel so far. Now I know there must have been some reason that he did, because I understand why he loves you. You are a rare woman, Ayla.”

They started talking about the Summer Meeting again, and when they would be leaving, and Zelandoni mentioned that they still had time to have a small ceremony to bring Ayla into the Ninth Cave and make her a Zelandonii woman.

Just then there was an urgent knocking on the panel next to the entrance, but before anyone could respond, a girl burst in and ran to Zelandoni, obviously very distressed. Ayla thought she could count perhaps ten years, but was surprised at how tattered, stained, and dirty her clothes were.

“Zelandoni,” she said, “they told me you were here. I can’t get Bologan up.”

“Is he sick? Did he hurt himself?” Zelandoni asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Ayla, why don’t you come with me. This is Tremeda’s daughter, Lanoga. Bologan is her eldest brother,” Zelandoni said.

“Isn’t Tremeda Laramar’s mate?” Ayla asked.

“Yes,” Zelandoni said as they hurried off together.

19

As they neared Laramar and Tremeda’s home, Ayla realized she had passed by it many times but hadn’t paid attention. The stone shelter of Jondalar’s people was so large, housed so many, and so much seemed to have happened since they arrived, it was difficult to take it in all at once. Maybe with so many people it was always this way, but it would take a while for her to become accustomed to it.

The dwelling was at the far end of the living sites, set apart from its neighbors, and farthest away from most Cave activities. The living structure itself was not large, but the family claimed a substantial amount of the surrounding area by spreading out in an untidy array, though it was difficult to distinguish between personal belongings and trash. Some distance away from the dwelling was the space Laramar appropriated to make his fermented brew, which might change in flavor depending upon his ingredients, but could always be counted on.

“Where is Bologan, Lanoga?” Zelandoni asked.

“Inside. He won’t move,” Lanoga said.

“Where’s your mother?” the donier asked.

“I don’t know.”

When they moved aside the entrance drape, an unbelievably foul smell assaulted them. Except for one small lamp, the only light was the shadowed daylight reflecting off the stone above the roofless dwelling from the great overhanging shelf above the abri, and it was dark inside.