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

“Willamar said you brought carvings,” Jondalar said.

“Yes. Here examples,” Conardi said.

He untied a pouch from his waist ties, opened the top, and poured out several mammoth ivory figures onto an unused platter. Ayla picked one up. It was a mammoth with some extra lines incised on it, whose reason was not clear, so she asked him.

“I do not know,” he said. “They always made that way. These not made by ancients, but made like ancients make, especially by young people who are learning.”

Next, Ayla picked up a long, slender figure, and when she looked closely, she knew it was a bird, but a bird like a goose flying through the air. It was so simple, yet so full of life. The next figure was like a lion standing on its hind legs—at least the head was and the top of its body, and the upper arms seemed to be feline—but the legs were human. And in front of what would be the long underbelly of a cat, if it wasn’t standing upright, was a clearly marked enlongated downward-pointing triangle, the pubic triangle, the unmistakable sign of a female. Though there were no human-like breasts, the figure was a lion woman.

The last figure was definitely a woman, though she had no head, just a carved hole through which a cord was strung. The breasts were huge and quite high. The arms ended with the indication of a hand with fingers. The hips were broad and the buttocks large, with the line dividing them sharply incised all the way around to the front, ending with such an exaggerated depiction of a vulva, the female organ was almost everted.

“I think this was made by a woman who has been through childbirth,” Ayla said. “That’s sometimes how it feels, like you are being split in two.”

“You may be right, Ayla. The breasts certainly appear to be full of milk,” said the First.

“Are you offering these for trade?” Willamar asked.

“No, these my own. I carry for luck, but if you want one or more, could get some made,” Conardi said.

“If it were me, I would get some extras made to take on trading missions. I’m sure they would trade well,” Willamar said. “Are you a Trade Master, Conardi?” He had noticed the man did not have a trader’s tattoo.

“I like travel, and trade some, but not Trade Master,” Conardi said. “Everybody trades, but we have not such occupation as specialty.”

“If you like to travel, you can make it be,” Willamar said. “It is what I’m training my apprentices to be. This may be my last long trading mission. I’m at an age where traveling is losing its appeal. I’m ready to settle down at home with my mate and her children and grandchildren, like that pretty little one.” He indicated Jonayla. “Some traders take their mates and families with them, but my mate was the leader of the Ninth Cave, and not as free to travel. So I always make sure I bring her something special. That’s why I was asking if your carvings were available for trading. But I’m sure I’ll find something when we go to the Southern Sea to trade for shells. Would you like to travel together with us?”

“When do you leave?” Conardi asked.

“Soon, but not before we see the Most Ancient Sacred Site,” Willamar said.

“Is good you do. Beautiful cave, most extraordinary paintings, but I see several times. I go ahead, tell them you coming,” Conardi said.

27

The entrance to the cave was quite large but not symmetrical, and more wide than high. The right side was taller; the left lower section had a projecting ledge over part of it, creating a sheltered area that offered some protection from rain, and from the occasional rain of pebbles that cascaded down the cliff. A cone-shaped mound of gravel had accumulated at the far left end of the cave’s mouth, falling from the rock face above, amassing on the ledge, and spilling over, creating a scree slope from the base of the cone that continued down the side of the cliff.

As a result of the capacious opening, light penetrated to some depth into the cave. Ayla thought it would make a good place to live, but it obviously was not used as such. Except for the corner under the ledge where a small fire was burning outside a sleeping shelter, there was little evidence of the things that people used to make their life comfortable. As they approached, a Zelandoni came out of the shelter and greeted them.

“In the name of the Great Earth Mother, you are welcome to Her Most Ancient Sacred Place, First Among Those Who Serve Her,” she said, holding out both hands.

“I greet you, Watcher of Her Most Ancient Sacred Site,” the First replied.

Jonokol was next. “I am Zelandoni of the Nineteenth Cave of the Zelandonii, and I greet you, Watcher of Her Most Ancient Sacred Site. I am told the images inside this Sacred Place are quite striking. I have also made some images, and I am honored to be invited to see this Sacred Site,” he said.

The Watcher smiled. “So you are a Zelandoni Image Maker,” she said. “I think you will be a little surprised at what you see in this cave, and perhaps you will appreciate the artistry more than most. The Ancients who worked here were quite skilled.”

“Are all the images here made by the Ancients?” the Nineteenth asked.

The Watcher heard the unspoken plea in Jonokol’s voice. She had heard it before from artists who came to visit. They wanted to know if they would be allowed to add to the work, and she knew what to say.

“Very nearly, though I do know of a few made more recently. If you feel equal to the task, and compelled to do so, you are free to make your mark here. We put no restrictions on anyone. The Mother chooses. You will know if you are chosen,” the Watcher said. Though many asked, very few actually did feel equal to the task of contributing to the remarkable work inside.

Ayla was the next one. “In the name of the Great Mother of All, I greet you, Watcher of the Most Ancient Sacred Site,” she said, holding out her hands. “I am called Ayla, acolyte to the First Among Those Who Serve The Great Earth Mother.”

She’s not ready to give up her name yet, was the Zelandoni’s first thought. Then she grew conscious that the young woman had spoken with an unusual accent and knew she was the person she had been told about. Most of her Cave thought that all the visitors spoke Zelandonii with what they considered a northern accent, but the way this woman spoke was entirely different. She spoke well, and she obviously knew the language, but the way she made certain sounds was unlike anything she had heard before. There was no doubt that she came from a very distant place.

She looked at the young woman more carefully. Yes, she thought, she’s attractive, but she has a foreign aspect, a different set to her features, a shorter face, wider space between her eyes. Even her hair, it’s not fine, like so many Zelandonii women. It has a thicker texture, and though she is blond, the shade is distinctive, darker, rather like honey or amber. A foreigner and yet she is acolyte to the First. It’s rare enouch for a foreigner to become one of the zelandonia, much less acolyte to the First. But perhaps understandable since she’s the one who can control horses and a wolf. And she’s the one who stopped the men who have been causing so much trouble for so many years.

“You are welcome to this Most Ancient Sacred Site, Ayla, acolyte to the First,” the Zelandoni said, grasping Ayla’s hands. “I suspect you have traveled farther to see this site than anyone ever has.”