The Shelters of Stone (Earth's Children 5)

“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, bu

t 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?”

Ayla told how she had absentmindedly picked up a stone that was on the rocky beach of the valley where she lived, rather than the hammerstone she had been using to make a new tool to replace one that had broken. Since her fire had gone out, the hot spark and bit of smoke gave her the idea to try to relight her fire that way. To her surprise, it worked.

“And is it true there are some of those firestones around here?” the donier asked.

“Yes,” Jondalar answered, full of excitement. “We collected all that we could find from her valley, and hoped to find more on our Journey. We never did, but Ayla stopped to get a drink at that small stream in Wood Valley and found some there. Not many, but where there are some, there must be more.”

“That seems logical. I hope you are right,” Zelandoni said.

“They would be exceptional for trading,” Willamar said.

Zelandoni frowned slightly. She had been thinking more of the dramatic aspects for ceremonies, but that would require that they remain inaccessible to everyone except the zelandonia, and it was already too late for that. “You are probably right, Trade Master, but perhaps not right away,” she said. “I would rather the knowledge of these stones be kept secret, for the time being.”

“Why?” Ayla said.

“They could be useful for certain ceremonies,” Zelandoni said.

Suddenly Ayla remembered the time Talut held a meeting to present the idea of the Mamutoi adopting her. To the surprise of both Talut and Tulie, the brother-sister headman and headwoman of the Lion Camp, since they had both sponsored her, one man had objected. It was only when they had made an impromptu, but dramatic, demonstration of fire-making with a firestone, and had promised to give him one, that Frebec relented.

“I suppose they could,” she said.

“But when can I show my friends?” Folara implored. “Mother made me promise not to tell anyone yet, but I’ve been yearning to show them.”

“Your mother was wise,” Zelandoni said. “I promise you’ll have a chance to show them, but not yet. This is too important and needs to be presented properly. It really would be better if you wait. Will you?”

“Of course, if you want me to, Zelandoni,” Folara said.

“It seems like there have been more feasts and ceremonies and gathers in the few days since they came than in all of last winter,” Solaban said.

“Proleva asked me to help, and you know I won’t refuse her,” Ramara said, “any more than you’d refuse Joharran. Jaradal always plays with Robenan anyway, I don’t mind watching him.”