The Shelters of Stone (Earth's Children 5)

Zelandoni and Marthona caught each other’s eyes and nodded a slight acknowledgment. The donier had talked with the former leader about Ayla’s abilities and suggested that she, perhaps, ought to consider affiliating with the zelandonia in some way. They both agreed that it might be better for her and everyone else.

“Then Shevonar’s tunic has his mark, his abelan, and the Zelandonii abelan,” Ayla stated, as though learning a lesson by rote.

“Yes. He will be recognized by everyone, including Doni. The Great Earth Mother will know that he is one of Her children who lived in the southwest region of this land,” Zelandoni said. “But that is only part of the design on Shevonar’s Ceremonial tunic. The entire outfit has meaning, including the necklaces. Besides the Zelandonii abelan, part of the pattern includes the nine squares that identify his Cave, and other patterns that define his lineage. There are symbol marks for the woman he mated, the abelans of her children born to his hearth. His craft, spear-making, is represented, and of course, his own symbol mark. His abelan is the most personal, and personally powerful element of all. His Ceremonial outfit, which are his burial clothes now, are, I suppose you could say, a visual display of his names and ties.”

“Shevonar’s Ceremonial outfit is particularly nice,” Marthona said. “It was created by the old pattern-maker, who is gone now. He was very good.”

Ayla had thought the clothing of the Zelandonii was very interesting, some of it quite beautiful—particularly Marthona’s things—but she’d had no idea of the complexity of the meanings associated with it. Some things had seemed too ornate for her taste. She had learned to appreciate the pure form and usefulness of the things she made, just as her Clan mother did. Occasionally she varied the pattern in a basket she was weaving, or showed off the grain of the wood in a bowl or cup she carved and sanded smooth, but she had never added decorations.

Now she was beginning to understand how the clothes and jewelry that people wore, as well as their facial tattoos, characterized and identified them. Shevonar’s ensemble, for all that it was highly decorated, was one that she felt had a balanced and pleasing pattern. She was surprised, however, when Marthona said that it had been created by an old man.

“Shevonar’s clothes must have taken a lot of work. Why would an old man spend so much rime making clothes?” Ayla asked.

Jondalar smiled. “Because the old man’s craft was designing Ceremonial and burial clothing. That’s what a patternmaker does.”

“The old man didn’t make Shevonar’s Ceremonial clothes, he planned how they would go together,” Marthona said. “There are so many aspects to include, it takes a special skill and an artistic eye to put them together in a pleasing way. But he could arrange to have the clothes made. Several people had worked closely with him for many years, and the team was in great demand. Now, one of them plans the clothing, but she isn’t as good, not yet.”

“But why would the old man or anyone else do it for Shevonar?” Ayla asked.

“He traded for it,” Jondalar said.

Ayla frowned. It was obvious she still didn’t quite understand. “I thought people traded with other Camps or Caves. I didn’t know they traded with people in their own Cave.”

“But why not?” Willamar said. “Shevonar was a spear-maker. He was known for his well-made spears, but he couldn’t arrange all the elements and symbols he wanted to show on his Ceremonial outfit in a way that pleased him. So he traded twenty of his finest spears for that outfit, and he prized it greatly.”

“It was one of the last the old man made,” Marthona said. “After his eyes no longer allowed him to practice his craft, he traded Shevonar’s spears, one by one, for other things he wanted, but he saved the best one for himself. His bones are now buried in sacred ground, but he took that spear with him to the spirit world. It was one that had both his and Shevonar’s abelans on it.”

“If he is especially pleased with his handiwork,” Jondalar explained, “along with the abelan of the person it is being made for, a spear-maker sometimes incorporates his own symbol mark within the design carved or painted on it.”

Ayla learned during the hunt that certain marks on spears were very important. She knew that every spear carried a mark of its owner, so that there would be no doubt who had killed which animal. She didn’t know that it was called an abelan, or that it was so important to the Zelandonii. She had seen one dispute resolved because of the marks. Two spears had found the same animal, but only one was imbedded in a vital organ.

Though each spear bore the owner’s symbol mark, she had heard the hunters talking about the spear-makers. They always seemed to know who made which spear, whether or not it bore the mark of the one who made it. The style of the spear and the decorations on it declared the maker.

“What is your abelan, Jondalar?” she asked.

“It’s not anything specific, it’s just a mark. It looks like this,” he said. He smoothed out the dry dirt nearby, and with his finger drew a line, then a second line that started parallel with the first line, but converged to a point at the end. A small line joined the two lines near the pointed end. “I always thought that when I was born, the Zelandoni couldn’t think of anything that day,” he said, then looked at the First and grinned. “Or maybe it’s the tail of an ermine, white with a black tip. I always liked those little ermine tails. Do you think my abelan could be an ermine?”

“Well, your totem is a Cave Lion,” Ayla said, “just like mine. I think your abelan can be anything you say it is. Why not an ermine? Ermines are feisty little weasels, but pretty in winter, all white except for their black eyes and the black tips of their tails. Actually, their brown summer coats are not bad, either.” She thought for a moment, then asked, “What is Shevonar’s abelan?”

“I saw one of his spears near his resting place,” Jondalar said. “I’ll get it and show you.”

He quickly got the spear and showed her S

hevonar’s symbol mark. It was a stylized representation of a mouflon, a mountain sheep with large curved horns.

“I should take that with me,” Zelandoni said. “We’ll need it to make a copy of his abelan.”

“Why do you need to make a copy?” Ayla asked.

“The same symbol that marked his spears, clothing, and other posessions will mark his grave post,” Jondalar said.

As they walked back toward their dwellings, Ayla thought about the discussion and drew a few conclusions on her own. Though the symbol object, the elandon, itself was concealed, the symbol mark, the abelan, that had been made on it was known not only to the person it symbolized, but to everyone else. It did possess some power, especially for the one to whom it belonged, but not for someone who might want to misuse it. It was too well-known. Real power came from the unknown, the esoteric.

The following morning, Joharran rapped on the post beside the entrance to Marthona’s dwelling. Jondalar pushed the drape aside and was surprised to see his brother.

“Aren’t you going to the meeting this morning?” he asked.

“Yes, of course, but I wanted to talk to you and Ayla, first,” Joharran said.