Jondalar was still interested in the storage rooms. “How does the meat stay frozen like this? It’s warm inside the lodge,” Jondalar said.
“In winter, all the ground is frozen hard as a rock, but it melts enough to dig in summer. When we build a lodge, we dig down far enough to reach the ground that is always frozen, for storage rooms. They will keep food cold even in summer, though not always frozen. In fall, as soon as the weather turns cold outside, the ground starts to freeze up. Then meat will freeze in the pits and we start storing for winter. The hide of the mammoth keeps the warm inside and the cold outside,” Talut explained. “Just like it does for the mammoth,” he added with a grin.
“Here, Talut, take this,” Nezzie said, holding out a hard, frosty, reddish-brown chunk with a thick layer of yellowish fat on one side.
“I will take,” Ayla offered, reaching for the meat.
Talut reached for Nezzie’s hands, and though she was by no means a small woman, the powerful man lifted her out as though she were a child. “You’re cold. I’ll have to warm you up,” he said, then putting his arms around her, he picked her up and nuzzled her neck.
“Stop it, Talut. Put me down!” she scolded, though her face glowed with delight. “I have work to do, this is not the right time …”
“Tell me the right time, then I’ll put you down.”
“We have visitors,” she remonstrated, but she put her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear.
“That’s a promise!” the huge man roared, setting her down lightly, and patting her ample backside, while the flustered woman straightened her clothes and tried to regain her dignity.
Jondalar grinned at Ayla, and put his arm around her waist.
Again, Ayla th
ought, they are making a game, saying one thing with words, and something else with their actions. But this time, she understood the humor and the underlying strong love shared by Talut and Nezzie. Suddenly she realized they showed love without being obvious, too, as the Clan did, by saying one thing that meant something else. With the new insight, an important concept fell into place that clarified and resolved many questions that had bothered her, and helped her to understand humor better.
“That Talut!” Nezzie said, trying to sound stern, but her pleased smile belied her tone. “If you’ve got nothing else to do, you can help get the roots, Talut.” Then to the young woman, she added, “I’ll show you where we keep them, Ayla. The Mother was bountiful this year, it was a good season and we dug up many.”
They walked around a sleeping platform to another draped archway. “Roots and fruit are stored higher up,” Talut said to the visitors, pulling back another drape and showing them baskets heaped with knobby, brown-skinned, starchy groundnuts; small, pale yellow wild carrots; the succulent lower stems of cattails and bulrushes; and other produce stored at ground level around the edge of a deeper pit. “They last longer if they are kept cold, but freezing makes them soft. We keep hides in the storage pits, too, until someone is ready to work them, and some bones to make tools and a little ivory for Ranec. He says freezing keeps it fresher and easier to work. Extra ivory, and bones for the fires, are stored in the entrance room and in the pits outside.”
“That reminds me, I want a knee bone of a mammoth for the stew. That always adds richness and flavor,” Nezzie said as she was filling a large basket with various vegetables. “Now where did I put those dried onion flowers?”
“I always thought that rock walls were necessary to survive a winter, for protection from the worst of the winds and storms,” Jondalar said, his voice full of admiration. “We build shelters inside caves, against the walls, but you don’t have caves. You don’t even have many trees for wood to build shelters. You’ve done it all with mammoths!”
“That’s why the Mammoth Hearth is sacred. We hunt other animals, but our life depends on the mammoth,” Talut said.
“When I stayed with Brecie and the Willow Camp south of here, I didn’t see any structures like these.”
“Do you know Brecie, too?” Talut interrupted.
“Brecie and some people from her Camp pulled my brother and me out of quicksand.”
“She and my sister are old friends,” Talut said, “and related, through Tulie’s first man. We grew up together. They call their summering place Willow Camp, but their home is Elk Camp. Summer dwellings are lighter, not like this. Lion Camp is a wintering place. Willow Camp often goes to Beran Sea for fish and shellfish and for salt to trade. What were you doing there?”
“Thonolan and I were crossing the delta of the Great Mother River. She saved our lives …”
“You should tell that story later. Everyone will want to hear about Brecie,” Talut said.
It occurred to Jondalar that most of his stories were also about Thonolan. Whether he wanted to or not, he was going to have to talk about his brother. It wouldn’t be easy, but he would have to get used to it, if he was going to talk at all.
They walked through the area of the Mammoth Hearth, which, except for the central passageway, was defined by mammoth bone partitions and leather drapes, as were all the hearths. Talut noticed Jondalar’s spear-thrower.
“That was quite a demonstration you both gave,” the headman said. “That bison was stopped in its tracks.”
“This will do much more than you saw,” Jondalar said, stopping to pick up the implement. “With it, you can throw a spear both harder and farther.”
“Is that true? Maybe you can give us another demonstration,” Talut said.
“I would like to, but we should go up on the steppes, to get a better feel for the range. I think you’ll be surprised,” Jondalar said, then turned to Ayla. “Why don’t you bring yours, too?”
Outside Talut saw his sister heading toward the river, and called out to the headwoman that they were going to look at Jondalar’s new way of throwing spears. They started up the slope, and by the time they reached the open plains, most of the Camp had joined them.