The Shelters of Stone (Earth's Children 5)

“In fact, they can,” Jondalar said. “They just don’t talk like we do. They use hand signs, mostly. I’ve learned some of them, and I’ve communicated with them, but Ayla is much better. She knows their language.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Zelandoni of the Fourteenth said.

Jondalar smiled. “I did at first, too,” he said. “I never saw one up close before that encounter. Have you?”

“No, I can’t say that I have, and I have no desire to,” the woman said. “I understand they rather resemble bears.”

“They don’t resemble bears, any more than we do. They look like people, a different kind of people, but there is no mistaking them. That hunting party was carrying spears and wearing clothes. Did you ever see bears do that?” Jondalar asked.

“So they are clever bears,” she said.

“Don’t underestimate them. They are not bears, or any other kind of animal. They are people, intelligent people,” Jondalar said.

“You said you communicated with them? When?” asked the man Jondalar couldn’t quite place.

“Once, when we were staying with the Sharamudoi, I got into trouble on the Great Mother River. The Sharamudoi live beside her, not too far from the end where she empties into Beran Sea. When you first get down off the glacier, the Mother is hardly a stream, but where they live she is huge, so wide in places, she almost looks like a lake. But though she can seem placid and smooth, she has a deceptively deep, swift, and strong current. By then so many other rivers, large and small, have flowed into her that when you see her from the home of the Sharamudoi, you know why she’s called the Great Mother River.” Jondalar was getting into Story-Telling mode, and people were listening with rapt attention.

“The Sharamudoi make excellent watercraft out of huge logs that are dug out and shaped to make a shell with pointed ends. I was practicing to control a small dugout boat using a paddle, when I lost control.” Jondalar made a deprecating smile that showed his chagrin. “To be honest, I was showing off a little. They usually keep a line—with one end attached to the boat—and a hook with bait ready all the rime in their boats, and I wanted to prove to them that I could catch a fish. The trouble is, fish in a river that big match its size, especially sturgeon. The River Men don’t call it fishing when they go after the big ones; they say they are hunting sturgeon.”

“I once saw a salmon nearly as big as a man,” someone called out.

“Some sturgeon near the end of the Great Mother River are bigger than the length of three tall men,” Jondalar said. “When I noticed the fishing gear, I threw out a line, but I was not lucky. I caught one! Or rather, a big sturgeon caught me. Because the line was fastened to the boat, when that fish started swimming, he took me with him. I lost the paddles and had no control. I reached for my knife to cut the line, but the boat hit something and knocked it out of my hand. The fish was strong and fast. He tried to dive and almost swamped me a couple of times. All I could do was hang on while that sturgeon pulled me upriver.”

“What did you do?” “How far did you go?” “How did you stop it?” voices called out.

“It turned out that the hook did injure the fish and was causing it to bleed. It finally wore him out, but by then he had dragged me across a wide part of the river and quite a ways upstream. When he gave up the fight, we happened to be in the arm of a little backwater shoal. I got out and swam to land, grateful to feel something solid under my feet…”

“It’s a good story, Jondalar, but what does it have to do with flatheads?” Zelandoni of the Fourteenth said.

He smiled at her, giving her all his attention. “I was just getting to that part. I was on land, but I was soaked and shivering with cold. I didn’t have a knife to cut wood, I didn’t have anything to make fire, most of the wood on the ground was wet, and I was really getting chilled. Suddenly, standing in front of me was this flathead. He had just the start of a beard, so he couldn’t have been very old. He beckoned me to follow him, though I wasn’t sure what he meant at first. Then I noticed smoke in the direction he was going, so I followed him and he led me to a fire,” Jondalar said.

“Weren’t you afraid to go with him? You didn’t know what he might do,” another voice called out. More people were joining them, Jondalar noticed. Ayla had been aware of the gathering crowd, too.

“By then, I was so cold, I didn’t care. All I wanted was that fire. I squatted down, getting as close as I could to it, then I felt a fur being laid across my shoulders. I looked up and saw a woman. When she saw me, she ducked behind a bush and hid, and though I tried, I couldn’t see her. From the glimpse I got of her, I think she was older, maybe the young man’s mother.

“When I finally warmed up,” Jondalar continued, “he led me back to the boat and the fish, belly up n

ear the bank. It wasn’t the biggest sturgeon I ever saw, but it wasn’t small, at least the length of two men. The young Clan man took out a knife and cut that fish in half, lengthwise. He made some motions to me, which I didn’t understand at the rime, then wrapped up half that fish in a hide, flung it over his shoulder, and carried it off. Just about then, Thonolan and some River Men came paddling upstream and found me. They had seen me being pulled upriver and came looking for me. When I told them about the young flathead, just like you, Zelandoni of the Fourteenth, they didn’t want to believe me, but then they saw the half fish that was left. Those men never stopped teasing me about going fishing and getting only half a fish, but it took three of them to drag the other half fish into the boat, and that young flathead picked it up and carried it away alone.”

“Well, that’s a good fish story, Jondalar,” Zelandoni of the Fourteenth said.

Jondalar looked at her directly, with the full intensity of his amazing blue eyes. “I know it sounds like a fish story, but I promise you it is true. Every word,” he said with earnest sincerity, then he shrugged and smiled, adding, “but I can’t blame you for doubting.

“I got a bad cold after that dunking,” he continued, “and while I was in bed staying warm by a fire, I had time to think about flatheads. That young man probably saved my life. At least he knew I was cold and needed warmth. He may have been just as afraid of me as I was of him, but he gave me what I needed and, in exchange, took half my fish. The first time I saw flatheads, I was surprised that they carried spears and wore clothes. After meeting that young man, and his mother, I knew they used fire and had sharp knives—and were very strong—but more than that, he was smart. He understood I was cold and he helped me, and for that, he thought he had a right to a share of my catch. I would have given him the whole thing, and I think he could have hauled it off, too, but he didn’t take it all, he shared it.”

“That is interesting,” the woman said, smiling at Jondalar.

The unintentional charm and charisma of the decidedly handsome man was beginning to make an impression on the older woman, which was not lost on the One Who Was First. She would remember it for the future. If she could use Jondalar to ease her relationship with Zelandoni of the Fourteenth, she wouldn’t hesitate. The woman had been like a canebrake of sharp thorns ever since she was selected to be First, impeding every decision and obstructing every policy she tried to make.

“I could tell you about the boy of mixed spirits that was adopted by the mate of the Mamutoi headman of the Lion Camp, because that was when I learned some of their signs,” Jondalar continued,”but I think telling about the man and woman we met just before we started back across the glacier would be more significant, because they live close…”

“I think you should wait with that story, Jondalar,” said Marthona, who had joined them. “It should be told to more people, and this meeting is to make decisions about the Matrimonial that is, if no one objects,” she added, looking directly at Zelandoni of the Fourteenth Cave and smiling sweetly. She, too, had seen the effect her captivating son had on the older woman, and she was more than aware of the problems the Fourteenth had given the First. She had been a leader herself and understood.

“Unless you are really interested in hearing all the discussion and details,” Joharran said to Jondalar and Ayla1, “this might be a good time to look for a place to demonstrate your spear-thrower. I’d like you to do it before the first hunt.”

Ayla wouldn’t have minded staying. She wanted to learn as much as she could about Jondalar’s—and now her—people, but he was eager to follow up on the suggestion. He wanted to share his new hunting weapon with all the Zelandonii. They explored the campsite of the Summer Meeting, Jondalar greeting friends and introducing Ayla. They found themselves the object of attention because of Wolf, but they expected it. Ayla wanted to get the initial disturbance over with as soon as possible. The sooner people started getting used to seeing the animals, the sooner they would begin to take them for granted.

They decided on an area that they thought would work for the spear-thrower demonstration, then they saw one of the young men who had helped hold up the travois when they crossed rivers to keep the goods they were transporting dry. He was from Three Rocks, the West Holding of the Twenty-ninth Cave, also known as Summer Camp, and had traveled with them the rest of the way. They chatted a while, then his mother came along and invited them to have a meal with them. The sun was already high, and they hadn’t eaten since early in the day, and gratefully accepted. Even Wolf was given a bone with some meat on it. They were extended a special invitation to help with the pine-nut harvest in the fall.