Ayla had trouble bending just her little finger and holding that position. It was obvious that the rest of them had more practice, but she had no trouble understanding. The First saw Ayla grinning with amazement and delight, and nodded to herself. This is the way to keep her involved, she thought.
“A handprint can be made on a surface like a piece of wood or the wall of a cave, even on the bank of a stream,” the First added. “That hand sign can mean several different things. It may mean counting words, but it may mean something else entirely. If you want to leave a handprint sign, you can dip your palm in color and leave the mark, or you can place your hand on the surface and blow color on and around the back of it, which leaves a different kind of handprint. If you want to make a sign that means a counting word, dip the palm in color for the smaller ones, and blow color on the back of your hand to show the larger ones. One Cave to the south and east of here makes the sign of a large dot using color on only the palm, without showing the fingers.”
Ayla’s mind was racing, overwhelmed with the idea of counting. Creb, the greatest Mog-ur of the Clan, could, with great effort, count to twenty. She could count to twenty-five and represent it with just two hands in a way that others could understand it, and then increase that number. You could tell someone how many red deer had congregated at their spring calving grounds, how many young were born; a small number like five, a small group, twenty-five, or many more than that. It would be harder to count a large herd, but it could all be communicated. How much meat should be stored to last how many people through the winter? How many strings of dried roots? How many baskets of nuts. How many days will it take to reach the Summer Meeting place? How many people will be there? The possibilities were incredible. Counting words had tremendous significance, both real and symbolic.
The One Who Was First was talking again, and Ayla had to wrench her mind away from her contemplations. She was holding up one hand. “The number of fingers on one hand, five, is an important counting word in its own right. It represents the number of fingers on each hand, and the toes on each foot, of course, but that is only its superficial meaning. Five is also the Mother’s sacred counting word. Our hands and feet only remind us of that. Another thing that reminds us of that is the apple.” She produced a small, unripe hard apple and held it up. “If you hold an apple on its side and cut it in half, as if you were cutting through the stem within the fruit,” she demonstrated as she spoke, “you will see that the pattern of the seeds divides the apple into five sections. That is why the apple is the Mother’s sacred fruit.”
She passed out both sections to be examined by the acolytes, giving the top half to Ayla. “There are other important aspects of the counting-word five. As you will learn, you can see five stars in the sky that move in a random pattern each year, and there are five seasons of the year: spring, summer, autumn, and the two cold periods, early winter and late winter. Most people think the year starts with spring when new green starts growing, but the zelandonia know that the beginning of the year is marked by the Winter Shortday, which is what divides early winter from late winter. The true year begins with late winter, then spring, summer, autumn, and early winter.”
“The Mamutoi count five seasons, too,” Ayla volunteered. “Actually three major seasons: spring, summer and winter, and two minor seasons: fall and midwinter. Perhaps it should be called late winter.” Some of the others were rather surprised that she would interject a comment when the First was explaining a basic concept, but the First smiled inwardly, pleased to see her getting involved. “They consider three to be a primary counting word because it represents woman, like the three-sided triangle with the point facing down represents woman, and the Great Mother. When they add the two others, fall and midwinter, seasons that mean changes are coming, it makes five. Mamut said five was Her counting word of hidden authority.”
“That’s very interesting, Ayla. We say five is Her sacred counting word. We also consider three to be an important concept, for similar reasons. I’d like to hear more about the people you call the Mamutoi, and their customs. Perhaps the next time the zelandonia meet,” the First said.
Ayla was listening with fascination. The First had a voice that captured attention, demanded it, when she chose to focus it, but it wasn’t only the voice. The knowledge and information she was imparting were stimulating and absorbing. Ayla wanted to know more.
“There are also five sacred colors and five sacred elements but it’s getting late and we’ll get into that next time,” said the One Who Was First Among Those Who Served The Great Earth Mother.
Ayla felt disappointed. She could have listened all night, but then she looked up and saw Folara coming with Jonayla. Her baby was awake.
4
Anticipation for the Summer Meeting intensified after the Ninth Cave returned from visiting the Seventh and Second Caves. Everyone’s time and attention was occupied with the hectic rush of getting ready to leave, and the excitement was palpable. Each family was busy with its own preparations, but the various leaders had the additional duty of planning and organizing for their entire Cave. That they were willing to assume the responsibility and able to carry it out was why they were leaders.
The leaders of all the Zelandonii Caves were anxious before a Summer Meeting, but Joharran was especially so. While most Caves tended to have some twenty-five to fifty people, some as much as seventy or eighty, usually related, his Cave was an exception. Nearly two hundred individuals belonged to the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii.
It was a challenge to lead so many people, but Joharran was up to the task. Not only had Joharran’s mother, Marthona, been a leader of the Ninth Cave, but Joconan, the first man to whom she was mated and to whose hearth Joharran had been born, was the leader before her. Joharran’s brother, Jondalar, who was born to the hearth of Dalanar, the man Marthona mated after Joconan died, had specialized in a craft in which he showed both skill and inclination. Like Dalanar, he was recognized as an expert flint-knapper because it was what he did best. But Joharran grew up immersed in the ways of leadership and had a natural propensity to take on those responsibilities. It was what he did best.
The Zelandonii had no formal process for selecting leaders, but as people lived together, they learned who the best person was to help them to resolve a conflict or sort out a problem. And they tended to follow the ones who took on the organization of an activity and did it well.
If several people decided to go hunting, for example, it wasn’t necessarily the best hunter they chose to follow, but the one who could direct the group in a way that made the hunt most successful for everyone. Often, though not always, the best problem solver was also the best organizer. Sometimes two or three people, who were known for their specific areas of expertise, worked together. After a while, the one who dealt with conflicts and managed activities most effectively was acknowledged as the leader, not in any kind of structured way, but by unspoken consent.
Those who obtained leadership positions gained status, but such leaders governed by persuasion and influence; they had no coercive power. There were no specific rules or laws requiring compliance, or means of enforcing them, which made leadership more difficult, but peer pressure to acknowledge and accept suggestions by the head of the Cave was strong. The spiritual leaders, the zelandonia, had even less authority to compel, but perhaps more power to persuade; they were greatly respected and a little feared. Their knowledge of the unknown and their familiarity with the terrifying world of the spirits, which was an important element in the lives of the community, commanded respect.
Ayla’s excitement about the upcoming Summer Meeting increased as the time to leave approached. She hadn’t noticed it as much the previous year, but they had arrived at Jondalar’s home not long before the annual gathering of the Zelandonii after traveling for a year, and she had felt excitement and tension enough just meeting his people and getting accustomed to their ways. This year she had been aware of her mounting enthusiasm since the beginning of spring, and as the days passed, she was as rushed and eager as everyone. It was a lot of work to get ready for the summer, especially knowing that they would be traveling around, not staying at any single place for the whole season.
The Summer Meeting was where people gathered together after the long cold season to reaffirm their ties, to find mates, and to exchange goods and news. The location became a sort of base camp from which individuals and smaller groups would be going on hunting expeditions and gathering excursions, exploring their land to see what had changed, and visiting additional Caves to see other friends and kin, and some more distant neighbors. Summer was the itinerant season; the Zelandonii were essentially sedentary only in winter.
Ayla had finished changing and nursing Jonayla and had put her down to sleep. Wolf had gone out earlier, probably to hunt or explore. She had just spread out their traveling sleeping roll to see what repairs it might need when she heard a tapping on the post beside the drape that closed the entrance to their dw
elling. Her home was located near the back of the protected space, but closer to the southwestern, downriver end of the living area, since it was one of the newer constructions. She got up and pulled aside the drape and was pleased to see the One Who Was First standing there.
“How nice to see you, Zelandoni,” she said, smiling. “Come in.”
After the woman entered, Ayla caught a sense of movement outside and glanced up at another construction that she and Jondalar had made somewhat farther on across the vacant space as a place for the horses to shelter when the weather was especially disagreeable. She noticed that Whinney and Gray had just come up from the grassy edge of The River.
“I was going to make some tea for myself—can I make some for you?”
“Thank you, yes,” the large woman said as she headed for a block of limestone with a large cushion on top that had been brought inside especially for her to use as a seat. It was sturdy and comfortable.
Ayla busied herself placing some cooking stones on the hot coals she had stirred up in the fireplace, and adding more wood. Then she poured water from the waterbag—the cleaned stomach of an aurochs bulging with fullness—into a tightly woven basket, and added some broken pieces of bone to protect the cooking basket from the sizzling-hot cooking stones.
“Is there a particular tea you’d like?” she asked.
“It doesn’t matter. You choose—something calming would be nice,” Zelandoni replied.
The padded rock had appeared in their dwelling shortly after they returned from the Summer Meeting the year before. The First had not asked for it, and she wasn’t sure whether it was Ayla’s idea or Jondalar’s, but she knew it was meant for her and she appreciated it. Zelandoni had two stone seats of her own, one in her dwelling and one near the back of the exterior common work area. In addition, Joharran and Proleva provided her a solid place to sit comfortably in their dwelling. Though she could still get down on the floor if it was necessary, as time went on and she continued to grow fatter, she was finding it harder to get up. She assumed that since she was chosen to be First by the Great Earth Mother, She had a reason for making her look more like Her every year. Not every Zelandoni who had become First was fat, but she knew most people liked seeing her that way. Her size seemed to lend presence and authority. A little less mobility was a small price to pay.
With wooden tongs Ayla picked up a hot stone. The tongs were made from a thin piece of wood from just under the bark of a living tree, peeled in a long strip, the top and bottom cut, then bent around with steam. Fresh wood kept its springiness longer, but to keep the tree from dying, it was best if taken from only one side. She tapped the cooking stone against one of the rocks that circled the firepit to shake off the ashes, then dropped it into the water amid a cloud of steam. A second hot stone brought the water to the boil, though it settled down quickly. The pieces of bone kept the hot rocks from scorching the bottom of the basket, giving the fiber cooking pot a longer life.