The Land of Painted Caves (Earth's Children 6)

“When they come back, would you tell Jondalar I’ll be late tonight? I may not be back until morning. Do you know about the man who fell off the cliff near The Crossing this morning?” Ayla said.

“Yes. A visitor?” Matagan said.

“A neighbor from New Home. He used to be with the Seventh Cave; now he lives at Bear Hill. I can’t understand why anybody would try to climb High Rock when it’s so wet from all the rain. Mud has been sliding down some of the steeper slopes; it was probably muddy up there, too,” Ayla said. This has been a wet spring, she thought. Springs have been more wet ever since we had that cold winter that Marthona predicted a few years ago.

“How is he?” Matagan asked. He knew what it was like to suffer the consequences of poor judgment.

“He’s seriously hurt. Broken bones and I don’t know what else. I’m afraid Zelandoni will be up all night with him. I’ll be staying to help her,” Ayla said.

“With you and the First there, I’m sure he’s getting the best care possible,” Matagan said, then smiled. “And I speak from experience.”

Ayla smiled back. “I hope so. A runner was sent to tell his family. They should be arriving soon. Proleva is making a meal for them and some others at the main hearth. I’m sure there will be enough for you and the boys, and Jondalar and Jonayla, too,” she added as she turned to hurry back.

She found herself still thinking about Jonayla and the animals as she walked back. When she had to be away, Wolf sometimes stayed with Jonayla, sometimes with her. If she went with Zelandoni to help someone at another Cave, Wolf usually came with her, but when she had to make “sacrifices” and endure “tests” as part of her training—go without sleep, give up Pleasures, fast for periods of time—she usually went alone.

She often stayed at the small shelter called the Little Hollow of Fountain Rocks, which was comfortable enough. It was right next to the Deep of Fountain Rocks, sometimes called Doni’s Deep, the long cave that was the first Sacred Site she saw when she came to live with the Zelandonii. Fountain Rocks was about a mile away from the Ninth Cave, plus a gentle-sloped but long climb up the cliff. The long painted cave had other names, especially to the zelandonia, such as Entrance to the Womb of the Mother or the Mother’s Birth Canal. It was the most Sacred Site in their immediate region.

Jondalar wasn’t always happy when she had to be away, but he never minded taking care of Jonayla, and Ayla was glad for both of them that they were developing such a close relationship. He had even started teaching her to knap flint alongside his apprentices.

Ayla’s musings were cut short when she noticed two women walking toward her on her way back, Marona and her cousin. Wylopa nodded in greeting and smiled whenever she saw her, and though it always looked insincere, Ayla smiled back. Marona usually acknowledged her only with the briefest of nods and Ayla responded in kind. The woman didn’t even do that much if no one else was around, but this time Marona did smile at her. It made Ayla look at her again. It was in no way a pleasant smile. It was more like a sneer, a gloating sneer.

Ever since her return, Ayla couldn’t help but wonder why Marona had moved back to the Ninth Cave. She thought the Fifth Cave had accepted her well enough, and the woman had been known to remark when she moved there that she liked it better. I like it better when she’s there, too, Ayla thought.

It wasn’t just because Marona and Jondalar had once been a couple. Rather that no one had been more malicious and spiteful to her, beginning with the trick of the boys’ winter underwear so people would laugh at her. But Ayla had faced the laughter down and gained the respect of the Ninth Cave. Now, particularly when she was riding Whinney, she often wore a similar outfit on purpose, and so did many other women, much to Marona’s vexation. Light leggings and a sleeveless tunic in soft leather were quite comfortable to wear when the days were mild.

Ayla had heard talk from some of Matagan’s visiting relatives that Marona had angered some high-status women of the Fifth Cave, kin of Kemordan, the leader, or his mate, for persuading a man who was Promised to one of them to run away with her instead. With her nearly white blond hair and dark gray eyes, she was an attractive woman, though Ayla thought the lines of the frown she wore so often were beginning to etch themselves more deeply on her face. Just like most of her relationships, the liaison didn’t last very long, and after claiming his regret and making satisfactory reparations, he was accepted back, but she was looked upon with less favor. As Ayla neared Zelandoni’s dwelling, her musings slipped into the back of her mind as thoughts of the injured man filled it.

Later in the evening, when she stepped out of the Donier’s abode, which was both her home and an infirmary, she saw Jondalar sitting next to Joharran, Proleva, and Marthona. They had finished their meal and were sipping tea, watching Jonayla and Proleva’s daughter, Sethona. Jonayla was a happy, healthy child and very pretty, everyone said, with fine, very light soft curly hair and Jondalar’s extraordinarily vivid blue eyes. To Ayla, Jonayla was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, but growing up in the Clan had taught her to be reticent in expressing such thoughts about her own child. It could bring bad luck, and when she tried to look at it objectively, she believed she was bound to feel that way about her own offspring, but in her heart, she could hardly believe such an amazing child could be hers.

Sethona, Jonayla’s close cousin, born only a few days before her and a constant playmate, was gray-eyed with dark blond hair. Ayla thought she resembled Marthona; she already showed elements of the former leader’s dignity and grace, and her clear direct gaze. Ayla turned her attention to Joharran and Jondalar’s mother. Marthona was showing her age, her hair was more gray, her face more lined, but it wasn’t just her physical appearance. She wasn’t well and that worried Ayla. She and Zelandoni had discussed her situation, and every possible remedy and treatment they could think of to help her, but they both knew there was no way to keep Marthona from walking in the next world someday; they could only hope to delay it.

Though she had lost her own mother, Ayla felt herself lucky to have had Iza, the Clan medicine woman, as the mother who raised her as a girl, with Creb, the Mog-ur, as the man of her hearth. Nezzie of the Mamutoi was the mother who wanted to adopt her into the Lion Camp, although the Mamut of the Mammoth Hearth had done it instead. Jondalar’s mother had treated Ayla like a daughter from the first, and she thought of Marthona as her mother, her Zelandonii mother. She felt close to Zelandoni as well, but she was more a mentor and friend.

Wolf was watching the girls, his head down on his front paws. He had noticed Ayla when she approached, but when she didn’t immediately join them, he raised his head and looked at her, which caused everyone else to look, too. That made Ayla aware that she had been so lost in thought she had stopped walking. She continued toward them.

“How is he?” Joharran asked when she neared.

“It is still hard to know. We’ve put splints on the broken bones in his legs and arm, but we don’t know what may be broken inside. He still breathes, but he hasn’t roused. His mate and mother are in with him now,” Ayla said. “Zeland

oni feels she should stay with them, but I think someone could bring her something to eat, which might encourage his family to come out and eat, too.”

“I’ll take her the food and try to persuade them to come out here,” Proleva said, getting up and walking toward the stack of visitors’ dishes. She took an ivory plate, which had been flaked off a large mammoth tusk and smoothed with sandstone rocks, and selected some slices of meat from the whole mountain goat kid that had been roasted on a spit. It was a rare treat. Several hunters from the Ninth and neighboring Caves had gone ibex hunting, and had had some luck. Proleva added some leafy greens and lightly cooked spring stalks of new thistle and roots of some kind, then carried it to the entrance of Zelandoni’s dwelling and scratched at the exposed side of a piece of rawhide next to the heavy leather drape across the entrance. A moment later she went in. Not long after, she walked out with the mate and mother of the injured man, brought them to the main hearth, and gave them visitor plates.

“I should go back in,” Ayla said, looking at Jondalar. “Did Matagan tell you I will probably be late tonight?”

“Yes. I’ll put Jonayla to bed,” he said, standing and picking up the child. He embraced the woman, touching cheeks, while Ayla held them both close.

“I rode Gray today,” Jonayla said. “Jondy took me out. He rode Racer. Whinney came too, but she didn’t have anyone to ride her. Why don’t you come, mama?”

“I wish I could have, Baby,” Ayla said, hugging them both again. Her pet name for her child was similar to the word for “baby” that she had called the injured lion cub she had once found, nursed back to health, and then raised. It was a modification of the Clan word for “infant” or “little one.” “But a man fell down and got hurt today. Zelandoni has been trying to make him feel better, and I’ve been helping her.”

“When he gets better, will you come?” Jonayla said.

“Yes, when he gets better, I will come riding with you,” Ayla said, thinking, if he gets better. Then she turned to Jondalar. “Why don’t you take Wolf with you, too.” She had noticed the mate of the man eyeing the animal warily. Everyone knew about the wolf and most had seen him, at least from a distance, but not everyone had tried to find a place to sit and eat with him nearby. The woman had also been looking askance at Ayla, especially after hearing the word she had used to refer to her child. Even modified, the word had a distinctly strange and unfamiliar sound.

After Jondalar left with Jonayla and Wolf, Ayla went back into Zelandoni’s dwelling. “Has there been any improvement in Jacharal?” she asked.

“Not that I’ve been able to see,” the One Who Was First said. She was glad the two women relatives had gone out so she could speak frankly. “Sometimes people languish in this condition for quite a while. If someone can manage to get them to take in water and food, they last longer, but if not they are gone within days. It’s as though the spirit is confused, the elan is not sure if it wants to leave this world while the body still breathes, even if the rest of the body is damaged beyond repair. Sometimes they wake up, but may not be able to move, or some part of them won’t move or doesn’t heal right. Occasionally, given enough time, some people will heal from a fall like that, but most often they don’t.”