The Land of Painted Caves

Chapter 35

At first glance, in the distance, Ayla thought it was Jondalar carrying something, coming toward her along the well-worn main path between the camps of several friendly Caves. She felt her stomach tightening to a knot. The height, the shape of the body, the walk were so familiar, but as the man approached, she saw it was Dalanar, carrying Bokovan.

As soon as they neared, Dalanar saw the obvious black marks on her forehead. Ayla noted Dalanar's look of surprise when he first saw her, then his effort to avoid looking at her forehead, and remembered her marks. She didn't see them, and tended to forget them.

Is that why Jondalar is behaving so strangely, Dalanar wondered? When he had invited Jondalar to join the Lanzadonii for a meal, along with Ayla and Jonayla, Dalanar had been surprised by Jondalar's hesitation, and then refusal. He claimed he had already promised to be some other place, but he looked upset and embarrassed. It was as though he were looking for excuses not to join them this evening. He recalled his own reasons for leaving a woman he loved. But I didn't think Jondalar was bothered by her becoming Zelandoni, the older man thought. He always seems to be proud of her skill as a healer, and content to be working the flint and training his apprentices.

'Would you let me carry you for a while, Bokovan? And give Dalanar a rest?' Ayla said, holding out her arms to him, and smiling. The youngster hesitated, then held out his arms to her. She remembered how much he weighed when she picked him up. Ayla, carrying Bokovan, walked alongside Dalanar, who was holding Jonayla's hand as they headed toward his camp. Wolf followed along behind.

The animal seemed to be perfectly comfortable wandering through the large camp of people now, and none of the people appeared particularly concerned about him. Ayla had noticed, however, that the Zelandonii took a special delight in the reactions of visitors or strangers who were not accustomed to seeing a wolf mingle so freely with people.

When they arrived, Joplaya and Jerika came to greet her, and Ayla noticed their look of surprise, and not-quite-successful attempt to ignore her new forehead marks. Although there was still an air of sadness about the beautiful dark-haired young woman, who Jondalar called cousin, Ayla noticed a smile of warm love light up her vivid green eyes as she took her son. Joplaya seemed more relaxed, more accepting of her life, and genuinely pleased to see Ayla.

Jerika also greeted her warmly. 'Let me take Bokovan,' she said, taking the child from his mother's arms. 'I have some food ready for him. You and Ayla can visit.'

Ayla spoke directly to the boy. 'I am glad I met you, Bokovan. Will you come to visit me? I'm from the Ninth Cave. Do you know where it is?'

He stared at her for a while, then with great seriousness, he said, 'Yeth.'

Ayla could not help but notice both the similarities and the differences between Jerika, Joplaya, and Bokovan before his grandmother took him away. The older woman was short and sturdy, her movements quick and energetic. Her hair, once as dark as the night sky, was now showing sunset streaks of grey. Her face, round and flat with high cheekbones, was more wrinkled, but her black slanted eyes still sparkled with charm and wit.

Ayla remembered Hochaman, the man who had been mated to Jerika's mother. He had been the traveller, and his mate had chosen to go along with him. Jerika was born along the way. Ayla recalled Dalanar telling the S'Armunai visitor about Hochaman's long Journey, from the Endless Seas of the East all the way to the Great Waters of the West, with pride. It occurred to her that even though the truth was exceptional in itself, it was the kind of story that would be told and retold, probably growing with each telling until it became a legend or myth, with little resemblance to the original story.

Dalanar had met Jerika some time after he found his flint mine and had been at first intrigued and then captivated by the exotic woman. Several people had already gathered around Dalanar and his flint mine — beginning the nucleus of the Cave that would later be called the Lanzadonii — when Hochaman and Jerika arrived at his camp. Jerika's mother had died several years before. They looked so unusual, it was obvious they had come from a great distance. Dalanar had never seen anyone like Jerika. She was tiny in comparison with most women, but intelligent and strong minded, and he was captivated by the exotic young woman. It had taken someone that unusual to finally vanquish his great love for Marthona.

Joplaya was born to Dalanar's hearth. Ayla now knew that what she had long believed was true; Joplaya was as much Dalanar's child as she was Jerika's. But Jondalar had not gone to live with the Lanzadonii until he and Joplaya were both adolescents. They had not been raised together as sister and brother and Joplaya had fallen hopelessly in love with Jondalar, even though he was a 'close cousin', an unmatable man.

Joplaya is as much his sister as Folara, Ayla thought, trying to sort out what the new relationships would mean. Jondalar and Folara are both children of Marthona, and Jondalar and Joplaya are both Dalanar's children. You can see him in both of them.

Jondalar was a younger replica of Dalanar, while Joplaya showed more of her mother's influence, but she was tall like Dalanar, and a more subtle contribution showed in other ways. Her hair was dark, but had light highlights. It was not the pure glossy sheen her mother's had been. Her face had the contours of Dalanar's people, with her mother's high cheekbones. But her most stunning feature was her eyes. Neither black like her mother's, nor vivid blue like Dalanar's — and Jondalar's — Joplaya's eyes were a vivid green with accents of hazel, with a shape and epicanthic fold like her mother, but less pronounced. Jerika was obviously a foreigner, but in many ways Joplaya seemed more exotic than her mother because of her similarities.

Joplaya had decided to mate with Echozar because she knew she could never have the man she loved. She chose him, she once told Ayla, because she knew she'd never find a man who would love her more, and she was right. Echozar was one of 'mixed spirits' — his mother had been Clan, and many people thought he was as ugly as Joplaya was beautiful. But not Ayla. She was sure Echozar looked the way her son would, when he grew up.

Bokovan exhibited all of the components of his unusual background. The physical strength of the Clan from Echozar along with the height of his mother, and Dalanar, were already obvious. His eyes were only slightly slanted and dark, nearly as dark as Jerika's, but not exactly black. Touches of a lighter shade or a reflective sparkle gave them an vivid quality she had never seen in such dark eyes. They were not only unusual, they were compelling. She sensed something special about Bokovan and wished the Lanzadonii lived closer; she would love to watch him grow up.

He was only a little younger than her son had been the last time she saw him, and he reminded her so much of Durc it almost hurt. Ayla wondered what kind of mind he would have. Would he have some aspect of the Clan memories along with the capacity to make art and speak with words? Like Dalanar's and Jerika's people? She had often thought about her son in the same way.

'Bokovan is a very special child, Joplaya,' Ayla said. 'When he's a little older, I wish you would consider sending him to the Ninth Cave for me to keep for a while.'

'Why?' Joplaya asked.

'Partly because he may have some unique qualities that could lead to the zelandonia, and you might want to know about that, but mostly because I would love to get to know him better,' Ayla said.

Joplaya smiled, then paused. 'Would you be willing to send Jonayla to the Lanzadonii to stay with me for a while?'

'I never thought about it,' Ayla said, 'but that might be a good idea … in a few years … if she'd be willing to go. Why do you want her?'

'I'll never have a girl. I'll never have another child. It was too hard on me giving birth to Bokovan,' Joplaya said.

Ayla remembered the difficulty she had giving birth to her son Durc, the one born to the Clan, and she had heard about Joplaya's problems. 'Are you sure, Joplaya. One difficult birth doesn't mean they all will be.'

'Our Donier says she doesn't think I should try. She's afraid I would die. I came very close with Bokovan. I am taking the medicine that you gave the zelandonia — and mother tries to make sure I take it. I do it to please her, but even if I didn't, I don't think it would matter. I don't think I can get pregnant again. In spite of mother, I stopped taking the medicine for a while. I wanted another child, but Doni chose not to bless me,' Joplaya said.

Ayla didn't want to pry, but as a Zelandoni she felt she had to ask, especially now. 'Do you honour the Mother frequently? It is important, if you want the Mother to bless you, that you honour Her properly.'

Joplaya smiled. 'Echozar is a sweet and loving man. He may not be the one I wanted, Ayla …' She paused, and for a fleeting moment a look of desolation darkened her expression. Ayla matched it with one of her own, for an entirely different reason. 'But I was right when I said no one could love me more than Echozar, and I have truly come to care for him. In the beginning, he could hardly bring himself to touch me, out of fear that he would somehow hurt me, and because, I think, he couldn't quite believe he had the right. We are beyond that now, although he still acts so grateful sometimes, I have to tease him out of it. He's even learning to laugh at himself. I think Doni is properly honoured.'

Ayla thought for a while. It was possible that the problem wasn't Joplaya's, but Echozar's. He was half Clan, and there could be a reason why a man who was Clan, or even just part, might experience some problem having a child with one of the Others. One child could have been just luck, though some would call him 'abomination', not luck. She wasn't sure how often someone of the Clan actually coupled with one of the Others, or how many of the offspring lived, or were allowed to live.

Everyone knew about those with mixed spirits, but she hadn't seen very many. She stopped to consider them: There was her son, Durc, and Ura at the Clan Gathering. Rydag of the Mamutoi Lion Camp. Possibly Attaroa and others among the S'Armunai had Clan mixed in. Echozar was half, and of course, there was Bokovan. It was likely Brukeval's mother had been half, too, which accounted for his characteristic look.

She was going to ask how well the Mother was honoured at ceremonies and festivals among the Lanzadonii. They were still a small group, although there had been some talk, she knew, about where they would locate a second Cave, sometime in the future. It occured to her that perhaps she ought to talk to their Zelandoni first. After all, she was one of the zelandonia and ought to discuss such things with another Zelandoni. Perhaps I should consult with the First. She may have some thoughts on the matter, Ayla thought.

Echozar arrived at the camp then and the subject changed. She was glad for the chance to stop trying to be Zelandoni and just be a friend. He gave her a broad smile, which still startled her somewhat on a face so strongly Clan. An expression that bared the teeth had a different meaning in the clan she grew up with.

'Ayla! How good to see you!' Echozar said as they embraced. He too had noticed the fresh mark on her forehead, and though he understood what it meant, he had been adopted by Dalanar's people, and it didn't affect him quite the same way. He knew she was an Acolyte, and expected her to become a Zelandoni someday. He might have commented on it, but he'd been exposed to more than his share of comment about the way he looked, and was reluctant to bring up any aspect of another person's appearance.

'And here's the wolf,' he said, feeling just a touch of apprehension when Wolf sniffed him. The Lanzadonii were not as familiar with the animal, and though he did remember him, it took a while to get used to the idea of a wolf mingling freely with people. 'I heard he was here, that's how I knew you had arrived. I was afraid we wouldn't see you after making the trip all the way here. Some of us were even considering going to the Ninth Cave to see you before we left. Your Mamutoi kin and their S'Armunai friend are definitely planning to go, and some of the Lanzadonii were thinking of going along,' Echozar said.

Ayla thought he seemed much more confident and relaxed, and was sure Dalanar was right about how helpful it had been for Echozar to be accepted so easily by Danug and Druwez and — what was his name — Aldanor? She was sure Jondalar had welcomed him, too, along with their kin and and several close friends. Jondalar would be very good about making Echozar feel welcome … but he hadn't said one single welcoming word to her. The only time she had seen him since she arrived was in the small woods, standing naked with Marona. Ayla had to look away to fight back the sudden tightness in her throat and sting of impending tears, feelings that seemed to come upon her at the most unexpected moments, lately. She said she had something in her eye.

'Just because I've come to the Summer Meeting doesn't mean you can't come to visit the Ninth Cave,' Ayla said after a moment. 'It's not very far from here, and since you are so close, you might as well. I think Dalanar and Joplaya would be interested in the way Jondalar has set up the training for his flint-knapping apprentices. He has six of them now,' Ayla said, sounding almost normal. After all, she could hardly help talking about Jondalar to Dalanar and Joplaya. 'And I'd love to see a little more of Bokovan, and of course, all the rest of you.'

'I think that little one has charmed Ayla completely,' Dalanar said. Everyone smiled benignly.

'He is going to be a big man,' Echozar said. 'And I want to teach him to be a good hunter.'

Ayla grinned at him. For a moment, she could imagine that Echozar was a man of the Clan, proud of the son of his hearth. 'He may turn out to be more than just a big man, Echozar. I think he's a very special child.'

'Where is Jondalar?' Echozar asked. 'Wasn't he supposed to come and share a meal with us tonight?'

'I saw him when he was taking Jonayla out with the horses after midday. He said he couldn't make it,' Dalanar said, sounding disappointed.

'I was going to take Jonayla out, but the zelandoni meeting took longer than I expected,' Ayla said. Everyone glanced up at her forehead.

'Did he say why he couldn't come?' Echozar asked.

'I don't know, something about other plans, and promises he made before Ayla came.'

Ayla felt her stomach knot. I can imagine what promises he made, she thought.

It was nearly dark by the time Ayla insisted she had to go. Echozar walked back with her and Jonayla and Wolf, carrying a torch.

'You look happy, Echozar,' Ayla said.

'I am happy, although I still find it hard to believe Joplaya is my mate. Sometimes I wake up at night and just look at her in the firelight. She is so beautiful, and she's wonderful. Kind and understanding. I feel so lucky, I sometimes wonder how I could deserve her.'

'She's lucky, too, you know. I wish we lived closer.'

'So you could see more of Bokovan?' he said. She saw his teeth gleaming with a smile.

'It's true, I would like to see more of Bokovan, and you and Joplaya, and everyone else,' Ayla said.

'Have you considered coming back with us and staying over winter?' Echozar asked. 'You know, Dalanar says you and Jondalar are always welcome.'

Ayla frowned, staring into the dark. Yes, of course, Jondalar, she thought. 'I don't think Jondalar would want to leave his apprentices. He has made promises, and winter is the best time to work on perfecting techniques,' she said.

Echozar was silent for a few paces. 'I don't suppose you'd want to leave Jondalar for a season and visit by yourself, with Jonayla and your animals, of course,' he said. 'As much as she loves Bokovan, I know Joplaya would love to have that little girl around. She and Bokovan spent a lot of time at Levela's camp and got to know her.'

'I … don't know. I guess I never thought about it. I've been so busy training for the zelandonia …,' she said, then glanced around looking for her daughter, who was straggling behind. She has probably found something along the path to distract her, Ayla thought.

'We would never object to having another Donier,' Echozar said.

Ayla smiled at him, then stopped. 'Jonayla, why are you so far back?'

'I'm tired, mother,' Jonayla whined. 'Would you carry me?'

Ayla stopped to pick her daughter up, using a hip for support. The little girl's arms felt good around her neck. She had missed Jonayla, and hugged her little body close.

They continued in silence for a while, and began to hear raucous voices. Ahead they could see the light of a campfire behind a fairly dense stand of brush. It wasn't a regular Cave's site, Ayla gathered as they drew closer. Through the screen of brush, she noticed several men sitting around the fire. They were obviously gaming, and drinking something from miniature waterbags, made from the nearly waterproof stomachs of small animals. She knew many of the men; several were from the Ninth Cave, but there was a sprinkling of others from several different Caves.

Laramar was there, the man who was known for making the potent alcoholic brew from almost anything that would ferment. While they didn't have the refinement of the wine that Marthona made, the drinks he produced weren't bad. He did very little of anything else and had perfected what had become his 'craft', but he made it in quantity and many people regularly drank too much, creating problems. His only other claim to fame had been a hearthful of unkempt children, and a slovenly mate who indulged heavily in his product. Ayla and the rest of the Cave took more care of the children than either Laramar or Tremeda did.

Now the oldest girl, Lanoga, was mated to Lanidar and had a child of her own, but the young couple had adopted all her younger siblings. Her older brother, Bolagan, also lived with them and helped to provide for the children. He had also helped to build their new dwelling, along with Jondalar and several others. Her mother, Tremeda, and Laramar also lived with them occasionally, when they chose to go to a place they called home, and both of them behaved as though it was theirs.

Besides Laramar, Ayla noticed the distinctive forehead markings of a Zelandoni on one man, but when he smiled, she saw the gap of his missing front teeth and frowned, realising it was Madroman. Had he already been accepted into the zelandonia and tattooed? She didn't think so. She looked again and noticed that an edge of the 'tattoo' was smeared. He must have painted it on, using the colours that some people used to temporarily decorate their faces for special occasions, but she had never seen anyone decorated with Zelandoni marks before.

Seeing him reminded her of the backpack she had found in the cave and had brought to the First. Though he invariably smiled and tried to engage her in conversation, she had always felt uneasy around Madroman. He disturbed her in a way that made her think of how a horse's fur looked when it was stroked opposite to the direction in which it grew; he rubbed her the wrong way.

She saw many young men, talking and laughing loudly, but there were other men of all ages. From what she knew of those she recognised, none of them contributed much. Some were not too bright, or were easily led. One of them spent most of his time drinking Laramar's brew, barely stumbling home each night, and often could be found in some out-of-the-way place completely unconscious, smelling of drink and vomit. Another was known to be unnecessarily brutal, especially to his mate and her children, and the zelandonia had talked of ways to intercede, waiting only for his mate to ask for help.

Then almost hidden in the shadows, she caught sight of Brukeval sitting somewhat off by himself with his back to a tall, roughly pointed stump, taking a drink from one of the bags. His temper still bothered her, but he was a cousin of Jondalar's and had always been kind to her. She hated to see him with such an unsavoury lot.

She was about to turn away when she heard Wolf growl low in his throat. A voice spoke up loudly behind her back.

'Well, look what we have here! The animal lover, and a couple of animals.'

She spun around in surprise. A couple of animals, she thought, but I only have Wolf … it took her a moment before she realised that he had called Echozar an animal. She felt her anger rise.

'The only animal I see here is a wolf … or were you thinking of yourself?' Ayla countered.

There were a few guffaws from some who had heard the remarks and she saw the man frown. 'I wasn't saying I was an animal,' he said.

'That's good. I wouldn't put yourself in the same category as Wolf. You don't measure up,' she said.

Some of the other men pulled the brush aside to see what was going on. They saw Ayla holding her daughter on one hip, her leg in front of the wolf to restrain him, and Echozar holding a torch.

'She sneaked up and was watching us,' the man said defensively.

'I was walking along a main path and stopped to see who was making all the noise,' Ayla said.

'Who is she? And why does she talk so funny?' asked a young man Ayla didn't know. Then he added with surprise, 'That's a wolf!' Ayla had all but forgotten about her 'accent' and so had most of the people who knew her, but occasionally a stranger brought it to her attention. From the pattern on the man's shirt, and the design of the necklace he wore, she guessed he was from a Cave that lived on another river to the north, a group that did not regularly attend their Summer Meeting. He must have arrived only recently.

'She's Ayla of the Ninth Cave, the one Jondalar brought back with him,' Madroman said.

'And she's a Zelandoni who can control animals,' another man said. Ayla thought he was from their neighbour, the Fourteenth Cave.

'She's not Zelandoni,' Madroman said with an air of condescension. 'She's an Acolyte, still in training.'

He had obviously not yet seen her new tattoo, Ayla thought.

'But when she came, she could already control that wolf and a couple of horses,' the man from the Fourteenth Cave said.

'I told you she was an animal lover,' the first man said with a sneer, looking pointedly at Echozar.

Echozar glared back, and moved toward Ayla protectively. This was a large group of men, and they had been drinking Laramar's brew. It had been known to bring out the worst in people.

'You mean like those horses from that Cave camped upstream?' the stranger said. 'That's the first place I was taken when I got here. She's the one who controls them? I thought it was that man and the girl.'

'Grey is my horse,' Jonayla spoke up.

'They're all the same hearth,' Brukeval said, strolling into the firelight.

Ayla glanced from Brukeval to Echozar, and saw their similarity immediately. Brukeval was clearly a modified version of Echozar, though neither of them was fully Clan.

'I think you should let Ayla get on her way,' Brukeval continued. 'And I think it might be smart to have our parties a little farther off the main path in the future.'

'Yes, I think that is a good idea,' said another voice that had suddenly appeared. Joharran, accompanied by some other men, stepped into the light of the torch held by Echozar. Several of them had unlit torches, which they immediately lit from Echozar's, showing how many there were. 'We heard you, and came to see what was going on. There are plenty of places to have drinking parties, Laramar. I don't think you men need to be bothering people who are walking along main paths between camps. Perhaps you should move your party now. We don't need children stumbling over you in the morning.'

'He can't tell us where to go,' a slurred voice called out.

'That's right, he can't tell us where to go,' said the first man who had seen Ayla.

'It's all right,' Laramar said, picking up several of the small drinking bags that had not been unstoppered, and putting them in a backframe, 'I'd rather find a place where we won't be bothered.'

Brukeval began to help him. He glanced up at Ayla and caught her eye. She smiled at him with gratitude for taking her part and suggesting they move. He smiled back with a lingering expression that puzzled her, then frowned and looked away. She put Jonayla down and knelt to restrain Wolf while the men moved off.

'I was going to walk over to the Lanzadonii camp to talk to Dalanar, anyway, Echozar,' Joharran said. 'Why don't you walk back with me? Ayla can go on with Solaban and the others.'

Ayla wondered what was so important that Joharran had to talk to Dalanar about that it couldn't wait until morning. Neither one was going anywhere in the dark. Then she noticed a few of the men who had been sitting around the fireplace move out from behind a bush and head in the direction the others had taken, their heads turning to watch Echozar, Joharran, and a couple of others go. She frowned with concern. Something did not feel right.

'I've never seen such goings on with the zelandonia,' Joharran commented. 'Have you heard anything about the special ceremony everyone says they are planning? Ayla has her mark, but they haven't announced her yet. They usually do it right away. Has she said anything to you?'

'She's been so busy with the zelandonia, I haven't seen much of her,' Jondalar said, which was not entirely true. He had not seen much of her, but not because she was so busy. He was the one who had been staying away and his brother knew it.

'Well, it looks like they must be planning something very big. Zelandoni spent a long time talking with Proleva, and she told me the zelandonia want a huge, elaborate feast. They are even talking to Laramar about supplying his brew for the festival. We're getting together a hunting party, probably be gone a day or two. Do you want to join us?' Joharran asked.

'Yes,' Jondalar answered, almost too quickly, causing his brother to give him a questioning look, 'I'd be glad to.'

If he'd been thinking straight, Jondalar might have recalled that Ayla had said something to him when he first saw her, but he hadn't been able to think of anything but Ayla finding him with Marona since the incident. He just couldn't bring himself to simply crawl into the sleeping furs beside her under the circumstances. He didn't even know if she would let him. He was certain he had lost her, but was afraid to find out for sure.

He thought he had managed to find a plausible excuse for not returning to their camp another night, when Proleva asked him about it. He had actually slept near the horse enclosure, using horse blankets, and the ground covering he and Marona had used at the swimming place, for bedding to keep warm, but he didn't think he could continue staying away without arousing curiosity from the whole camp. Being away on a hunting trip would solve the problem for the next day or two. He didn't even want to think beyond that.

Though Ayla was trying to behave as if nothing were wrong, and Jondalar thought his avoidance of her went unnoticed, in fact the whole camp was aware by now that something was wrong between the couple, and many guessed what it was. His clandestine trysts with Marona were not nearly so secret as he had thought. To most people, he was just being appropriately discreet and they ignored the affair. But the news that the formerly doting couple had not even shared the same bed since Ayla arrived, even though Marona had moved to a different camp, had spread quickly.

It was the kind of gossip people loved to speculate about. The fact that Ayla had been marked as a Zelandoni without being immediately announced, and that plans for a major ceremony were underway, only added to the delicious innuendos. People were guessing that the event had something to do with the newest Zelandoni, but no one seemed to know anything for sure. Usually one or another of the zelandonia would let something slip to an interested questioner, but this time none of them was talking. Some people were suggesting that even the Acolytes didn't know the real reason for the big festival, though they all tried to act as if they did.

Jondalar was hardly aware that a celebration was being planned, and until Joharran had asked him to join the hunting party, he didn't care. Then it only became an excuse to get away for a while. He had seen Marona a few times. When she heard the rumours about the estrangement of Ayla and Jondalar, she had made a point of seeking him out, but he had lost all interest in her. He was little more than coldly polite when she spoke to him, but she was not the only one who tried to find out how serious their breach was. Brukeval also came to the camp of the Ninth Cave.

Though he had travelled to the Summer Meeting with the Ninth Cave, Brukeval had long since moved away to sleep in the men's summer lodges, the 'far lodges' that were constructed around the periphery of the Summer Meeting Camp — commonly shortened to fa'lodges. Some were used by young men recently elevated to manhood status, some by older men who were not yet mated or were between mates, or men who wished they were. Brukeval had never mated. He'd always had a secret fear of being refused, and had never asked anyone. Besides, none of the available women seemed all that interesting to him. Since he had no immediate family or children, he felt out of place at the main camp, and even around the more frequently used areas of the Ninth Cave. As the years went by and most of the men his age took mates, he avoided ordinary activities and familiar people more and more, and by default often ended up with the idlers who attached themselves to Laramar to partake of the brew he made, frequently imbibing of it himself for the forgetfulness it induced.

Brukeval had tried a few different men's tents at the Summer Meeting, but finally settled in the one that housed many of the men he knew from the Ninth Cave who enjoyed easy access to Laramar's brew. Laramar himself slept there most of the time rather than returning to the tent of his mate and her children. The children weren't very welcoming lately, especially since Lanoga mated that boy with the feeble arm. She'd grown up to be pretty enough, Laramar thought; she could have got a better man, though he'd heard the boy could hunt. Madroman often chose that men's tent as well, rather than the large dwelling of patronising zelandonia, where he was still only an Acolyte, even though he told everyone that he had been called.

Brukeval didn't much like the men he chose to live with, a shiftless bunch who had little to offer and even less respect. He knew he was brighter and more capable than most of them. He was related to the families of those who often became leaders and he had grown up with people who were responsible, intelligent, and often talented. The men with whom he shared a fa'lodge were essentially lazy, weak willed, or slow, with no generosity of spirit or heart and few other redeeming qualities.

As a result, in an effort to bolster their own self-worth and as an outlet for their frustrations, they fed each other's vanity and conceit with bragging contempt for something they could feel superior to: those dirty, stupid animals called Flatheads. They told each other that while they were not human, they could be tricky. Because Flatheads bore a vague resemblance to real people, they were sometimes clever enough to confuse the spirits that made a woman pregnant so that she gave birth to an abomination, and that was intolerable. For reasons of his own, the one thing Brukeval had in common with the men with whom he shared living space was a deep and abiding hatred for Flatheads.

Some of the men were brutal bullies, and in the beginning one or two had actually tried to bait and tease him about having a Flathead mother, but after he had demonstrated his irrational anger and powerful strength a few times, none dared to bother him again, and most came to treat him with more respect than anyone else who shared their fa'lodge. Besides, he did have some influence with the Cave leaders since he knew many of them, and had spoken up for one or another of the men who had got himself in deeper than usual trouble. Many of the men began to look to him as a leader of sorts. So did some of the Caves. They felt that he could be a restraining influence, and by the middle of the summer, if any of the men who lived there were being especially troublesome, Brukeval was the one people went to.

When he appeared at the main camp of the Ninth Cave, ostensibly to share a midday meal and visit with the people of his Cave, it caused some conjecture. Ayla had gone early. She was deeply involved with the activities of the zelandonia, and had taken Jonayla to stay with Levela along the way. In fact, most of the women were gone. With her usual organising flair, Proleva had gathered up everyone she could find, assigning jobs here and delegating there, to begin the preparations for a great feast that would feed the entire Summer Meeting. The only women at the camp were the ones going on the hunt.

Proleva had left behind some food for the midday meal of the hunters who were gathering at the camp of the Ninth Cave. The hunting party would have to fend for themselves on the trail. Most of them had packed dried travelling food along with their equipment, tents, and sleeping rolls, though they did expect to eat fresh food they killed or collected most of the time.

Since he was there and was known to be a more than adequate hunter, Joharran invited him along on the hunt. Brukeval hesitated only a moment. He wondered about the situation between Ayla and Jondalar, and thought that perhaps during the camaraderie of a hunt, he might be able to find out.

Brukeval had never forgotten the way Ayla had faced them all down when Marona had tricked her into wearing entirely inappropriate clothing to her own welcoming party — now all the women were wearing similar outfits, he'd noticed. He remembered how warm she had been to him when they first met, the way she smiled, almost as though she knew him, with none of the hesitation or reservation most women showed. And he dreamed of her in her beautiful and unusual Matrimonial clothing, often seeing himself removing them, and after all these years, he still daydreamed about what it would be like if he were Jondalar lying beside her on soft furs.

Ayla had always been pleasant to him, but after that first night, he sensed a feeling of distance from her that was different from that first welcome. Brukeval had withdrawn more into himself as the years had gone by, but without their being aware of it, he knew a great deal about Jondalar and Ayla's life together, even intimate details. Among other things, he knew that Jondalar had been coupling with Marona — of all people — for some time. He also knew that Ayla never joined with anyone else, not even at Mother Festivals, and that she did not know about Jondalar and Marona.

Brukeval returned to the fa'lodge for his hunting gear, and by the time he got back to the Ninth Cave's camp, he was actually looking forward to the hunt. He hadn't really been included in one since he took up residence with the men he currently shared sleeping space with. As a rule, most hunting party leaders didn't bother asking the men from that tent to join them, and they seldom organised their own hunts, except for Brukeval, who had often gone off alone over the years and had learned to hunt or forage enough for himself when he wanted to.

The other men usually cadged something to eat from one Cave or another, often returning to the camps of their own Caves. Madroman had no concern about meals. He usually ate with the zelandonia, who were customarily supplied quite well by the Caves, usually in exchange for general services, but also for specific requests. Laramar also had his own resources. He traded his brew, and found no lack of willing consumers.

It was not uncommon for the youngest men staying in their own shelters to get food or a meal from one camp or another, although they usually tried to make some contribution in return, such as hunting or joining in other community work or food gathering activities. And though it was not unusual for the men who had recently reached manhood to create a few problems now and then, it was generally ascribed to 'high spirits' and tolerated, especially by older men recalling their own youth. If, however, they caused too much trouble, it could bring a visit from Cave leaders, who had the authority to impose penalties, including, at the worst, banishment from the Summer Meeting camp.

Everyone knew that the men of Brukeval's fa'lodge — as people had started referring to the place — were not young, and they could seldom be found when there was work to do. But there was never a lack of food at Summer Meetings, and no one who showed up when it was time to eat was ever turned away, no matter how unwelcome. The men of that place were generally smart enough not to appear at the same camp too often. And they usually spread out so that all of them did not end up at one place at the same time, unless they learned of a rather lavish feast, as when one or more camps would have a large communal meal. But with their often loud parties, sometimes violent fights, slovenly ways, and unwillingness to contribute, that particular men's group skirted the very edge of tolerance.

But that tent was the only place where Brukeval could drown out his secret guilt and pain with Laramar's brew. In a drunken stupor, with his conscious mind no longer in control, then he was free to think of Ayla the way he wanted. He could think of the way she looked when she proudly faced down the laughter of the Ninth Cave, think of her smiling at him with her beautiful smile, laughing and a little tipsy, flirting with him, talking to him as if she thought he was an ordinary man, even a charming, handsome man, not ugly and short. People called him a Flathead, but it wasn't true, it wasn't. I am not a Flathead, he thought. It's only because I am short and … ugly.

Hidden in the dark, full of potent drink, he could dream of Ayla in her spectacular, exotic tunic with her beautiful golden hair falling around her face and the amber jewel nestled between her high, firm bare breasts. He could dream of holding those breasts, of touching those nipples, of taking them in his mouth. Just the thought would bring him to erection, and filled with his need, he barely had to touch himself to make his essence spurt.

Then he could crawl into his empty bed, and dream that he was the one who had stood in front of Zelandoni with Ayla at his side, not his cousin, the tall man with the yellow hair and vivid blue eyes, not that perfect man every woman wanted. But Brukeval knew he wasn't so perfect. Jondalar had been coupling with Marona, not telling Ayla, trying to hide it from everyone. He had guilty secrets, too, and now Ayla was sleeping alone. Jondalar had been sleeping outside in the horse place, using their riding blankets. Had Ayla stopped loving Jondalar? Had she found out about Marona and stopped loving that man who was everything Brukeval had ever wanted to be? The man who was mated to the woman he loved more than life itself? Did she need someone to love her now?

Even if she stopped loving Jondalar, he knew it wasn't likely that she would choose him, but she had smiled at him again, and didn't seem as distant. And with the arrival of Dalanar and the Lanzadonii, he was reminded that some beautiful women did choose men who were ugly. He was not a Flathead, and he hated to think of himself as having any similarity, but he was aware that Echozar, that ugly abomination of a man who was born of mixed spirits, whose mother was a Flathead, had mated the daughter of Dalanar's second woman, the one most people thought was so exotically beautiful. So it was possible. He tried not to get his hopes up, but if Ayla ever needed someone, someone who would never couple with anyone else, never, not as long as he lived, who would never love anyone else as long as he lived, he could be that man.