The Shelters of Stone

Chapter 3

Marthona hurried to greet the man who had just returned, and they embraced warmly.

"Well! I see that tall son of yours is back, Marthona! I never thought he would turn out to be a traveler. Maybe he should have become a trader instead of a knapper," Willamar said, slipping out of his backpack. Then he gave Jondalar a hearty hug. "You haven't shrunk any, I notice," the older man said with a big grin, looking up at the full six-foot-six-inch height of the yellow-haired man.

Jondalar grinned back. It was the way the man had always greeted him, with jokes about his height. At well over six feet, Willamar, who had been as much the man of his hearth as Dalanar, was not exactly short himself, but Jondalar matched the size of the man to whom Marthona had been mated when he was born, before they severed the tie.

"Where's your other son, Marthona?" Willamar asked, still grinning. Then he noticed her tearstained face and realized how distraught she was. When he saw her pain reflected in Jondalar, his grin faded.

"Thonolan travels the next world now," Jondalar said. "I was just telling mother…" He saw the man blanch, then stagger as though struck a physical blow.

"But… but he can't be in the next world," Willamar said with shocked disbelief. "He's too young. He hasn't found a woman to make a hearth with." His voice rose in pitch with each statement. "He… he hasn't come home yet…" The last objection was almost a keening wail.

Willamar had always been fond of all of Marthona's children, but when they mated, Joharran, the child she had borne to Joconan's hearth, was nearly ready for his donii-woman, almost a man; that relationship was one of friendship. And though he had quickly grown to love Jondalar, who was a toddler and still nursing, it was Thonolan, and Folara, who were the children of his hearth. He was convinced Thonolan was the son of his spirit, too, because the boy was like him in so many ways, but in particular because he liked to travel and always wanted to see new places. He knew that in her heart, Marthona had feared that she would never see him again, or Jondalar either when she learned that he had gone with his brother. But Willamar thought that was just a mother's worry. Willamar had expected Thonolan to return, just as he himself always did.

The man seemed dazed, disoriented. Marthona poured a cup of liquid from the red flask, while Jondalar and Folara urged him to sit down on the cushions by the low table.

"Have some wine," Marthona said, sitting beside him. He felt numb, unable to comprehend the tragedy. He picked up the cup and drank it down, without seeming to know that he did, then sat staring at the cup.

Ayla wished there was something she could do. She thought of getting her medicine bag and making a soothing and relaxing drink for him. But he didn't know her, and she knew he was getting the best kind of care he could at this time: the attention and concern of people who loved him. She thought about how she would feel if she suddenly found out Durc was dead. It was one thing to know she would never see her son again, but she could still imagine him growing up, with Uba to love and take care of him.

"Thonolan did find a woman to love," Marthona said, trying to comfort him. Seeing her man's heartache and need had pulled her out of her own distress to help him. "Jondalar brought me something that belonged to her." She picked up the necklace to show him. He seemed to be staring into space, unaware of anything around him, then he gave a shudder and closed his eyes. After a time, he turned to look at Marthona, seeming to remember that she had spoken to him, though he could not recall what she said. "This belonged to Thonolan's mate," she said, holding it out to him. "Jondalar said it represents her people. They lived near a big river… the Great Mother River."

"He did get that far, then," Willamar said, his voice hollow with anguish.

"Even farther," Jondalar said. "We reached the end of the Great Mother River, went all the way to Beran Sea, and beyond. Thonolan wanted to go north from there and hunt mammoth with the Mamutoi." Willamar looked up at him, his expression pained and puzzled, as though he wasn't quite understanding what was said. "And I have something of his," Jondalar said, trying to think of a way to help the man. He picked up the other wrapped package from the table. "Markeno gave it to me. Markeno was his cross-mate, part of his Ramudoi family."

Jondalar opened the leather-wrapped package and showed Willamar and Marthona an implement made out of an antler of a red deer – a variety of elk – with the tines above the first fork detached. A hole about an inch and a half in diameter had been made in the wide space just below the first fork. The tool was Thonolan's shaft straightener.

Thonolan's craft had been the knowledge of how to apply stress to wood, usually heated with hot stones or steam. The tool was used to gain better control and leverage when exerting pressure to straighten bends or kinks out of the shafts so the spears he made would fly true. It was particularly useful near the end of a long branch where a hand grip was not possible. When the end was inserted through the hole, additional leverage was gained, making it possible to straighten the tips. Though it was called a straightener, the tool could be used to bend wood around, to make a snowshoe, or tongs, or any other object that required bent wood. They were different aspects of the same skill.

The sturdy, foot-long handle of the tool was carved with symbols and with the animals and plants of spring. The carvings represented many things, depending on the context; carvings and paintings were always much more complex than they seemed. All such depictions honored the Great Earth Mother, and in that sense the designs on Thonolan's straightener were made so that She would allow the spirits of the animals to be drawn to the spears made with the tool. There was also a seasonal element represented that was part of an esoteric spiritual aspect. The beautifully made depictions were not simply representations, but, Jondalar knew, his brother had liked the carvings because they were beautiful.

Willamar seemed to focus on the pierced antler tool, then he reached for it. "This was Thonolan's," he said.

"Yes," Marthona said. "Do you remember when Thonolan bent the wood to make the support for this table with that tool?" She touched the low, stone-slab platform in front of her.

"Thonolan was good at his craft," Willamar said, his voice still strange, distant.

"Yes, he was," Jondalar said. "I think part of the reason he felt so comfortable with the Sharamudoi was that they did things with wood that he never imagined could be done. They bent wood to make boats. They would shape and hollow out a log to make a canoe, a kind of boat, then bend the sides to widen it. They could make it bigger by adding strakes – long planks – along the sides, bending them to follow the shape of the boat, and fastening them together. The Ramudoi were very skilled at handling boats in the water, but both the Shamudoi and Ramudoi worked together to make them.

"I considered staying with them. They are wonderful people. When Ayla and I stopped to visit with them on the way back, they wanted both of us to stay. If I had, I think I would have chosen the Ramudoi half. And there was a youngster there that was really interested in learning flint-knapping."

Jondalar knew he was babbling, but he was at a loss of what to do or say, and was trying to fill the emptiness. He had never seen Willamar so shaken.

There was a tapping at the entrance, but without waiting for an invitation, Zelandoni pushed the drape aside and came in. Folara followed her, and Ayla realized the young woman had slipped out and summoned the woman. She nodded approval to herself; it was the right thing to do. Jondalar's sister was a wise young woman.

It had worried Folara to see Willamar so upset. She had no idea what to do except to get help. And Zelandoni was the donier: the giver of Doni's Gifts, the one who acted as the intermediary of the Great Earth Mother to Her children, the dispenser of assistance and medication, the one you went to for help.

Folara had told the powerful woman the essence of the problem; Zelandoni glanced around and took in the situation quickly. She turned and spoke quietly to the young woman, who immediately headed for the cooking area and started blowing on the coals in the fireplace to get them started again. But the fire was dead. Marthona had spread the embers to cook the meat evenly and hadn't gotten back to rekindle and bank the fire to keep it alive.

Here was something Ayla could do to help. She left the scene of grief and quickly went to her pack near the entrance. She knew exactly where her tinder kit was, and as she snatched it and headed for the cooking area, she thought of Barzec, the Mamutoi man who made it for her after she had given each hearth of the Lion Camp a firestone.

"Let me help you make a fire," she said.

Folara smiled. She knew how to make fire, but it was upsetting to see the man of her hearth so distressed, and she was pleased to have someone there with her. Willamar had always been so strong, so steady, so self-possessed.

"If you get some kindling, I'll start it," Ayla said.

"The fire-starting sticks are over here," Folara said, turning toward the back shelf.

"That's all right. I don't need them," Ayla said, opening her tinder kit. It had several compartments and small pouches. She opened one and poured out crushed, dried horse dung, from another she pulled out fluffy fireweed fibers and arranged them on top of the dung, and from a third she poured out some shaved slivers of wood beside the first pile.

Folara watched. During the long Journey, Ayla obviously had learned to have fire-making materials easily at hand, but the younger woman looked puzzled when Ayla next took out a couple of stones. Leaning close to the tinder, the woman her brother had brought home with him struck the two stones together and blew at the tinder, and it burst into flame. It was uncanny!

"How did you do that?" Folara asked, completely astonished.

"I'll show you later," Ayla said. "Right now, let's keep this fire going so we can get some water boiling for Zelandoni."

Folara felt a rush of something like fear. "How did you know what I was going to do?"

Ayla glanced at her, then looked again. Folara's face showed her consternation. With one brother's return after a long absence, bringing tame animals and a unknown woman with him, then learning of the death of the other brother, and seeing Willamar's unexpected and disturbing reaction, it had been a tense, exciting, and anxious day. After the stranger appeared to create fire by magic and then seemed to know something that no one had told her, Folara began to wonder if all the speculation and gossip about Jondalar's woman having supernatural powers could be true. Ayla could see she was overwrought and was fairly sure she knew why.

"I met Zelandoni. I know she's your healer. That's why you went to get her, isn't it?" Ayla asked.

"Yes, she's the donier," the young woman said.

"Healers usually like to make a tea or a drink to help calm someone who is upset. I assumed that she asked you to boil water for her to make it with," Ayla carefully explained.

Folara visibly relaxed; it was perfectly reasonable.

"And I promise I'll show you how to make fire like that. Anyone can do it… with the right stones."

"Anyone?"

"Yes, even you," Ayla said, smiling.

The young woman smiled, too. She had been dying of curiosity about the woman and had so many questions she wanted to ask, but she hadn't wanted to be impolite. Now she had even more questions, but the foreign woman did not feel so unapproachable. In fact, she seemed rather nice.

"Would you tell me about the horses, too?"

Ayla gave her big pleased grin. She suddenly realized that although Folara might be every inch a tall and beautiful young woman, she hadn't been one for too long. She'd have to ask Jondalar how many years Folara counted, but Ayla suspected that she was still quite young, probably close in age to Latie, the daughter of Nezzie, who was the mate of the Mamutoi Lion Camp's headman.

"Of course. I'll even take you down to meet them," she glanced toward the low table where everyone was gathered, "maybe tomorrow, after everything is calmed down. You can go down and look at them any time you want, but don't get too close by yourself until the horses get to know you."

"Oh, I won't," Folara said.

Recalling Latie's fascination with the horses, Ayla smiled and asked, "Would you like to ride on Whinney's back sometime?"

"Oh! Could I?" Folara asked, breathless, her eyes open wide. At that moment, Ayla could almost see Latie in Jondalar's sister. She had developed such a passion for the horses that Ayla had wondered if she might try to get a baby horse of her own someday.

Ayla went back to her fire-making as Folara reached for the waterbag – the waterproof stomach of some large animal. "I need to get more water. This is almost empty," the young woman said.

The coal was still glowing, barely alive. Ayla blew on it a little more, added shavings, then the small kindling that Folara had given her, and finally a few of the larger pieces of wood. She saw the cooking stones and put several into the fire to heat. When Folara returned, the waterbag was bulging and seemed quite heavy, but the young woman was obviously used to lifting it and filled a deep wooden bowl with water, likely the one that Marthona used for making tea. Then she gave Ayla the wooden tongs with the slightly charred ends. When she felt they were hot enough, Ayla used the tongs to pick up a hot stone. It sizzled and sent up a cloud of steam when she dropped it in the water. She added a second, then fished out the first one and replaced it with a third, and then more.

Folara went to tell Zelandoni the water was nearly ready. Ayla knew she must have told her something else as well from the way the older woman's head jerked up to look at her. Ayla watched the woman haul herself up from the low cushions, and thought of Creb, the Clan Mog-ur. He'd had a lame leg and it made it difficult for him to get up from low seats. His favorite place to relax had been a bent old tree with a low branch that was just the right height to sit on and get up from easily.

The woman came into the cooking room. "I understand the water is hot." Ayla nodded toward the steaming bowl. "And did I hear Folara correctly? She said you were going to show her how to start a fire with stones. What kind of trick is that?"

"Yes. I have some firestones. Jondalar has some, too. The only trick is learning how to use them, and it's not hard. I'll be happy to show you any time you would like. We had planned to, anyway." Zelandoni looked back toward Willamar. Ayla knew she was pulled two ways.

"Not now," the woman said under her breath, shaking her head. She measured some dried herbs into the palm of her hand from a pouch tied to a belt around her ample waist, then dropped them into the steaming water. "I wish I had brought some yarrow," she mumbled to herself.

"I have some, if you'd like," Ayla said.

"What?" Zelandoni said. She was concentrating on what she was doing and hadn't really paid attention.

"I said I have some yarrow, if you want it. You said you wished you had brought some."

"Did I? I was thinking it, but why would you have yarrow?"

"I am a medicine woman… a healer. I always have some basic medicines with me. Yarrow is one. It's good for stomachaches, it relaxes, and it helps wounds heal clean and fast," she said.

Zelandoni's jaw would have dropped open if she hadn't caught it halfway down. "You're a healer? The woman Jondalar brought home is a healer?" She almost laughed, then closed her eyes and shook her head. "I think we are going to have to have a long talk, Ayla."

"I would be happy to talk to you anytime," she said, "but do you want the yarrow?"

Zelandoni thought for a moment. She can't be One Who Serves. If she was, she would never leave her people to follow some man to his home, even if she did choose to mate. But she may know a little about herbs. A lot of people learn something about them. If she has some yarrow, why not use it? It has a distinctive enough odor so I can tell if it's right. "Yes. I think it would be helpful, if you have some handy."

Ayla hurried to her traveling pack, reached into a side pocket, and took out her otterskin medicine bag. This is getting very worn, she thought as she carried it back. I'm going to have to replace it soon. When she got to the cooking room, Zelandoni looked with interest at the strange container. It appeared to be made of the entire animal. She had never seen one like it, but there was something about it that seemed authentic.

The younger woman lifted the otter head flap, loosened the drawstring tie around the neck, then looked inside and withdrew a small pouch. She knew what it contained from the shade of color of the leather, the fiber of the drawstring closure, and the number and arrangement of the knots on the dangling ends. She untied the knot that closed it – it was a kind of knot that was easy to loosen if you knew how – and handed the pouch to the woman.

Zelandoni wondered how Ayla knew that she had the correct herb without smelling it, but when she brought it to her nose, she knew it was right. The donier poured a little into her palm, looked it over carefully to see if it was just leaves, or leaves and flowers, and if there was anything else in it. It appeared to be pure yarrow leaf. She added a few pinches to the wooden bowl.

"Should I add another cooking stone?" Ayla asked, wondering if she wanted an infusion or a decoction – steeped or boiled.

"No," the donier said. "I don't want anything too strong. He only needs a mild infusion. He's almost over the shock. Willamar is a strong man. He's worried about Marthona now, and I want to give some to her. I need to be careful with her medicine."

Ayla thought she must be giving Jondalar's mother regular doses of some medicine that she was watching carefully. "Would you like me to make some tea for everyone?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. What kind?" the older healer asked.

"Just something mild that tastes good. Some mint, or chamomile. I even have some linden flowers to sweeten it."

"Yes, why don't you. Some chamomile with the linden flowers would be nice, gently calming," Zelandoni said as she turned to go.

Ayla was smiling as she removed more pouches from her medicine bag. Healing magic, she knows it! I haven't lived near anyone who knows medicines and healing magic since I left the Clan! It's going to be wonderful to have someone to talk to about it.

Ayla had originally learned healing – at least herbal medicine and treatments, if not matters of the spirit world – from Iza, her Clan mother, who was recognized as a worthy descendant of the foremost line of medicine women. She had learned additional details from the other medicine women at the Clan Gathering to which she had gone with Bran's clan. Later, at the Summer Meeting of the Mamutoi, she had spent a considerable amount of time with the mamutii.

She discovered that all Those Who Served The Mother were conversant with both medicines and spirits, but not equally skilled. It often depended on an individual's own interests. Some mamutii were particularly knowledgeable about medications, some were more interested in healing practices, some in people generally and why certain ones would recover from the same illness or injury and others would not. And some cared only about things of the spirit world and the mind, and were not much interested in healing at all.

Ayla wanted to know everything. She tried to absorb it all – ideas about the spirit world, knowledge and uses of counting words, memorizing legends and histories – but she was particularly and endlessly fascinated with anything related to healing: medicines, practices, treatments, and causes. She had experimented with different plants and herbs on herself the way Iza had taught her, using knowledge and care, and learned whatever she could from healers she had met on their Journey. She thought of herself as someone with knowledge, but who was still learning. She didn't fully realize how much she knew or how highly skilled she was. But the one thing she had missed more than anything since leaving the Clan was having someone with whom to discuss it all, a colleague.

Folara helped her make the tea and showed her where things were. They both carried steaming cups out for everyone. Willamar was obviously in a better state of mind and asking Jondalar the details of Thonolan's death. He had just begun to retell the circumstances of the cave lion attack when they all looked up at the tapping sound from the entrance.

"Come in," Marthona called.

Joharran moved aside the drape and looked a little surprised to see everyone gathered together inside, including Zelandoni. "I came to see Willamar. I'd like to know how the trading went. I saw Tivonan and you drop a big pack, but with all the excitement and the feast tonight, I thought we should wait until tomorrow to have a meet…" he was saying as he approached. Then he noticed that something seemed wrong. He looked from one to the other, and finally to Zelandoni.

"Jondalar was just telling us about the cave lion that… attacked Thonolan," she said, and, seeing his horrified look, realized that he didn't know about the death of his youngest brother. It wasn't going to be easy on him, either. Thonolan had been well loved. "Sit down, Joharran. I think everyone should hear about it all together. Shared grief is easier to bear, and I doubt that Jondalar wants to repeat this too many times."

Ayla caught Zelandoni's eye, tilted her head toward the first calming drink that the woman had prepared, then toward the second tea that she had made. Zelandoni nodded at the second, then watched as Ayla silently poured a cup and unobtrusively handed it to Joharran. He took it without even noticing as he listened to Jondalar summarize the incidents leading up to Thonolan's death. Zelandoni was becoming more intrigued by the young woman. She had something, perhaps something more than a little knowledge of herbs.

"What happened after the lion attacked him, Jondalar?" Joharran asked.

"He attacked me."

"How did you get away?"

"That's Ayla's story to tell," Jondalar said. All eyes suddenly turned to her.

The first time Jondalar had done that, told a story up to a point and then turned it over to her without warning, she had been very disconcerted. She was more used to it now, but these people were his kin, his family. She was going to have to talk about the death of one of their own, a man she never knew, who obviously had been very dear to them. She felt her nervousness in the pit of her stomach.

"I was riding on Whinney's back," she began. "Her belly was full with Racer, but she needed exercise, so I rode her a little every day. We usually went east, because it was easier, but I was tired of going the same way all the time, so for a change I thought I'd go west. We went to the far end of the valley where the cliff wall began to level out. We crossed the little river, and I almost changed my mind about going in that direction. Whinney was pulling the pole drag and it was a steep slope, but she's surefooted and climbed up without too much trouble."

"What's a pole drag?" Folara asked.

"It's just two poles attached at one end to Whinney's back, with the other ends dragging the ground, and a sturdy carrier between the poles behind her. That's how Whinney helped me carry things back to my cave, like the animals I hunted," Ayla said, trying to explain the travois she devised.

"Why didn't you just get some people to help you?" Folara wanted to know.

"There were no people to help me. I lived alone in the valley," Ayla said.

The assembled group looked at each other in surprise, but before someone else could ask another question, Zelandoni interjected, "I'm sure we could all ask many questions of Ayla, but we can do that later. Why don't we let her finish telling us about Thonolan and Jondalar now."

There were nods of agreement, as they all turned their attention back to the stranger.

"As we were going past a canyon, I heard the roar of a lion, and then a scream, the scream of a man in pain," Ayla continued. They were hanging on her every word, and Folara couldn't be quiet.

"What did you do?"

"I didn't know what to do at first, but I had to go find out who had screamed. I had to try to help, if I could. Whinney took me to the canyon. I got down behind a rock and slowly tried to look in. Then I saw the lion, and heard him. It was Baby. I wasn't afraid anymore and went in. I knew he wouldn't hurt us," she said.

This time it was Zelandoni who couldn't keep still. "You recognized a lion's roar? Went right into the canyon of a roaring lion?"

"It wasn't just any lion. It was Baby. My lion. The one I raised," Ayla said, trying to make an important distinction. She glanced at Jondalar, and he was grinning in spite of the seriousness of the events she was relating. He couldn't help it.

"They already told me about this lion," Marthona said. "Apparently Ayla has a way with other animals, not just horses and wolves. Jondalar says he saw her ride the back of this lion, just like the horses. He claims others have seen it, too. Please continue, Ayla."

Zelandoni thought she'd have to look into this connection with animals. She had seen the horses by The River, and knew Ayla had a wolf with her, but she'd been seeing to a sick child in one of the other dwellings when Marthona led them to her place. They weren't in evidence at the moment, and she had put them out of her mind for the time being.

"When I got to the back end of the canyon," Ayla continued, "I saw Baby up on a ledge with two men. I thought both of them were dead, but when I climbed up and looked, I realized only one was dead. The other was still alive, but without help, he wouldn't be for very long. I managed to get Jondalar down off the ledge and tied him to the pole drag."

"What about the lion?" Joharran asked. "Cave lions don't usually let anything come between them and something they've killed."

"No, they don't, but this was Baby. I told him to go away." Ayla saw his look of stunned disbelief. "Just like I used to when we hunted together. I don't think he was hungry anyway, his lioness had just brought him a deer. And he didn't hunt people. I raised him. I was his mother. People were his family… his pride. I think the only reason he attacked the two men was that they had encroached on his den, his territory.

"But I didn't want to leave the other man there. The lioness wouldn't think people were family. There wasn't room for him on the pole drag, and no time for a burial. I was afraid Jondalar would die, too, if I didn't get him back to my cave. I noticed a steep scree slope at the back of the ledge, with a rock holding it back. I dragged the body there and used my spear – I used big thick Clan spears then – to pry the rock out of the way so the gravel would cover him. I hated to leave him like that, without even a message to the Spirit World. I'm not a mog-ur, but I used Creb's ritual and asked the spirit of the Great Cave Bear to help guide him to the Land of the Spirits. Then Whinney and I brought Jondalar home."

There were so many questions Zelandoni wanted to ask. Who or what was a "grrrub," which was what the name Creb sounded like to her. And why the spirit of a cave bear instead of the Great Earth Mother? She hadn't understood half of what Ayla said, and found the other half hard to believe. "Well, it's a good thing Jondalar wasn't hurt as bad as you thought," the older healer said.

Ayla shook her head. What did she mean? Jondalar was nearly dead. She still wasn't sure how she saved him.

Jondalar could guess what Ayla was thinking from her expression. It was obvious Zelandoni had made some assumptions that needed to be corrected. He stood up. "I think you need to know how badly I was mauled," he said, lifting his tunic and untying the waist thong of his summer leggings.

Although men seldom went entirely naked, even on the hottest days of summer, and neither did women, showing one's bare body was not a concern. People often saw each other when they went swimming or took sweat baths. It wasn't his exposed manhood that people stared at when Jondalar bared himself, it was the massive scarring on his upper thigh and groin.

The wounds had healed well; there was evidence that Ayla had actually sewn pieces of his skin together in places, Zelandoni noted. She had made seven individual stitches in his leg: four knots along the deepest wound and three more to hold torn muscles in place. No one had ever taught her, it was the only way she could think of to keep the gaping gashes closed.

Jondalar had given no hint that he had sustained such a serious injury. There was no limping or favoring of that leg, and except for the scars themselves, the muscle tissue underneath appeared fairly normal. There were other scars and marks on his body around his right shoulder and chest from the scratches and gashes made by the lion, and another apparently unrelated scar on his rib. It was evident that his long Journey had not left him unscathed.

They all understood now how severely Jondalar had been hurt, and why he had to be tended to immediately, but only Zelandoni had any idea how close to death he was. She flushed to think how seriously she had underrated Ayla's ability as a healer and was embarrassed to think of her rather offhand remark.

"I am sorry, Ayla. I had no idea you were so skilled. I think the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii is fortunate that Jondalar has brought such a well-trained healer with him," she said, noticing Jondalar's smile as he covered himself again, and a small sigh of relief from Ayla.

Zelandoni was even more determined to learn more about this stranger. This animal association had to mean something, and someone that skilled as a healer had to be brought within the authority and influence of the zelandonia. A stranger like that could wreak havoc within the orderly life of her people without some control and supervision. But since it was Jondalar who brought her, she would have to take it slowly. There was much to learn about this woman first.

"It seems I have you to thank for the return of at least one of my sons, Ayla," Marthona said. "I am happy to have him and grateful to you."

"If only Thonolan could have returned, it would indeed be a joyful occasion. But Marthona knew when he left that he would not return," Willamar said, then, looking at his hearth mate, "I didn't want to believe you, but I should have known. He wanted to see everything, and go everyplace. That alone would have kept him traveling. Even as a small child his curiosity was too great."

The comment reminded Jondalar of a deep concern he had long felt. Perhaps now was the appropriate time.

"Zelandoni, I need to ask you, is it possible for his spirit to find his own way to the spirit world?" Jondalar's habitual worried frown matched Joharran's. "After the woman he mated died, Thonolan wasn't himself, and he did not go to the next world with the proper assistance. His bones are still under that pile of gravel on the eastern steppes, he had no proper burial. What if his spirit is lost, wandering in the next world with no one to show him the way?"

The large woman frowned. It was a serious question, and one that had to be handled with delicacy, especially for the sake of Thonolan's grieving family. "Didn't you say something about some hurried ritual you performed, Ayla? Tell me about it."

"There's not much to tell," she said. "It was the ritual Creb always used when a person died and their spirit left this world. I was more concerned about the man who was living, but I wanted to do something to help the other one to find his way."

"She took me to the place later," Jondalar added, "and gave me some powdered red ochre to sprinkle over the rocks of his grave. When we left the valley for the last time, we went back to the canyon where Thonolan and I were attacked. I found a very special stone that came from the pile that buried him. I brought it with me. I hoped it might help you to find his spirit if it still wanders, so you could help him find his way. It's in my pack, I'll get it."

Jondalar got up, went to his pack, and quickly returned with a simple leather pouch attached to a length of thong so that it could be worn around the neck, although it showed little sign of such usage. He opened it and shook two objects out of it into his palm. One was a small chunk of red ochre. The other appeared to be a small, sharp-edged piece of ordinary gray rock shaped somewhat like a flattened pyramid. But when he picked it up and showed the bottom unseen surface, there were gasps and looks of surprise. That facet was lined with a thin layer of milky blue opal, shimmering with fiery red highlights.

"I was standing there, thinking of Thonolan, and this rolled down the gravel slope and landed at my feet," Jondalar explained. "Ayla said that I should put it in my amulet – this pouch – and take it home with me. I don't know what it means, but it felt – it feels – as if Thonolan's spirit is somehow connected with it."

He handed the stone to Zelandoni. No one else felt inclined to touch it, and Joharran actually shuddered, Ayla noticed. The woman studied it carefully, giving herself time to think and consider what to say.

"I think you are right, Jondalar," she said. "This is connected with Thonolan's spirit. I am not sure what it means, I need to study it more, and ask the Mother for guidance, but you were wise to bring it to me." She was silent for a while, then added, "Thonolan's spirit was adventuresome. Perhaps this world was too small for him. He may still be traveling in the next world, not because he's lost, but because he may not be ready to find his place there, yet. How far east were you when his life on this world ended?"

"Beyond the inland sea at the end of the great river, the one that begins on the other side of the highland glacier."

"The one they call the Great Mother River?"

"Yes."

Zelandoni was silent again. Finally she spoke. "It may be, Jondalar, that Thonolan's quest could only be satisfied in the next world, in the land of the spirits. Perhaps Doni felt it was time to call him, and let you return home. What Ayla did may have been enough, but I don't quite understand what she did, or why she did it. I need to ask some questions."

She looked at the tall, handsome man she had once loved, still loved in her own way, and the young woman sitting beside him who had managed to astonish her more than once in the short time since she arrived. "First, who is this 'Grrrub' you speak of, and why did you appeal to the spirit of a cave bear and not the Great Earth Mother?"

She could see where Zelandoni's questions were leading, and because they were direct questions, she almost felt compelled to answer. She had learned what a lie was, and that some people could say a thing that wasn't true, but she could not. The most she could do was refrain from mentioning, and that was particularly difficult when she was asked a direct question. Ayla looked down and stared at her hands. There were black smudges on them from making the fire.

She had been sure that eventually it would all come out, but she had hoped to spend some time with Jondalar's people first, to get to know some of them. Perhaps it was just as well. If she was going to have to leave, it would be better to do it before she grew to like them.

But what about Jondalar? She loved him. What if she had to leave without him? His child was inside her. Not just the child of his hearth, or even the child of his spirit. His child. It didn't matter what anyone else believed, she was convinced, she knew it was his child, as much as hers. He had started it growing inside her when they shared Pleasures – the Gift of Pleasure given to Her children by the Great Earth Mother.

She had been afraid to look at him, avoiding it for fear of what she might see. Suddenly she looked up, directly at him. She had to know.