The Shelters of Stone

Chapter 9

It was dark inside when they reached Marthona's dwelling. Folara had gone to stay with her friend Ramila, rather than wait alone for her mother, Willamar, Ayla, and Jondalar to return. They had seen her during the evening meal, but the discussions had continued on a more informal basis, and the young woman knew they were not likely to return early.

Not even a faint glow from dying coals in the fireplace could be seen when they pushed aside the entry drape.

"I'll get a lamp or a torch and get a fire start from Joharran's," Willamar said.

"I don't see any light there," Marthona said. "He was at the meeting and so was Proleva. They probably went to get Jaradal."

"How about Solaban's?" Willamar said.

"I don't see a light there, either. Ramara must be gone. Solaban was at the meeting all day, too."

"You don't have to bother getting fire," Ayla said. "I have the firestones I found today. I can have one going in a heartbeat."

"What are firestones?" Marthona and Willamar said almost in unison.

"We'll show you," Jondalar said. Though she couldn't see his face, Ayla knew he was grinning.

"I will need tinder," Ayla said. "Something to catch a spark."

"There is tinder by the hearth, but I'm not sure I can find the fireplace without stumbling over something," Marthona said. "We can get a fire start from someone."

"You'd have to go in and find a lamp or a torch in the dark, wouldn't you?" Jondalar said.

"We can borrow a lamp," Marthona said.

"I think I can make enough spark lights to find the fireplace," Ayla said, taking out her flint knife and feeling in her pouch for the firestones she had found.

She entered the dwelling first, holding the nodule of iron pyrite in front of her in her left hand and her knife in the right. For a moment she felt as though she were entering a deep cave. The darkness was so intense, it seemed to push back at her. A quick chill shook her. She struck the firestone with the back of her flint blade.

"Ooohhh," Ayla heard Marthona say as a bright spark lit up the charcoal black interior for an instant and then died.

"How did you do that?" Willamar asked. "Can you do it again?"

"I did it with my flint knife and a firestone," Ayla said, and struck the two together to show that she could, indeed, do it again. The long-lived spark allowed her to take a few steps toward the fireplace. She struck it again and moved a little closer to it. When she reached the cooking hearth, she saw that Marthona had found her way there, too.

"I keep my tinder here, on this side," Marthona said. "Where do you want it?"

"Near the edge here is fine," Ayla said. She felt Marthona's hand in the dark, and the soft, dry bits of some kind of fibrous substance it held. Ayla put the tinder on the ground, bent over close, and struck the firestone again. This time the spark jumped to the small pile of quick-burning material and made a faint red glow. Ayla blew at it gently and was rewarded with a little flame. She piled a bit more tinder on it. Marthona was ready with some small bits of wood, and then bigger kindling, and in what seemed hardly more than a heartbeat, a warm fire lit the inside of the dwelling.

"Now, I want to see this firestone," Willamar said after lighting a few lamps.

Ayla gave him the small nodule of iron pyrite. Willamar studied the grayish-gold stone, turning it over to see all sides. "It just looks like a stone, with an interesting color. How do you make fire with it?" he asked. "Can anyone do it?"

"Yes, anyone can," Jondalar said. "I'll show you. Can I have some of that tinder, mother?"

While Marthona got more tinder, Jondalar went to his traveling pack for his fire-making kit and removed the flint striker and fire-stone. Then he made a small pile of the soft fibers – probably cattail or fireweed fibers mixed with a bit of pitch and crumbled dry rotted wood from a dead tree, he thought. It was the tinder his mother had always preferred. Bending close to the quick-catching tinder, Jondalar struck the flint and iron pyrite together. The spark, not as easy to see next to the burning fire, still landed on the pile of starting material, singed it brown, and sent up a whiff of smoke. Jondalar blew up a small flame and added more fuel. Soon a second fire was burning in the ash-darkened circle surrounded by stones that was the hearth of the dwelling.

"Can I try it?" Marthona said.

"It does take a little practice to draw off a spark and make it land where you want, but it's not hard to do," Jondalar said, giving her the stone and the striker.

"I'd like to try, too, when you're done," Willamar said.

"You don't have to wait," Ayla said. "I'll get the flint striker from my fire-starting kit and show you. I've been using the back of my knife, but I've already chipped it and I'd rather not break the blade."

Their first attempts were tentative and awkward, but with Ayla and Jondalar showing them the technique, both Marthona and Willamar began to get a feel for it. Willamar was the first to get a fire going, but then had trouble doing it a second time. Once Marthona made a fire, she had mastered the technique, but with practice and advice from the two experts, mixed with much laughter, it wasn't long before both of them were drawing sparks from the stone and making fires with ease.

Folara came home to find all four of them smiling with delight on their knees around the hearth, which held several little fires. Wolf came in with her. He'd grown tired of staying in one place all day with Ayla, and when he found Jaradal with Folara, who encouraged him, he couldn't resist joining them. They were pleased to show off their acquaintance with the curiously friendly predator, and the association made him less threatening to the other people of the Cave.

After Wolf greeted everyone appropriately and drank some water, he went to the corner near the entrance that he had claimed as his own and curled up to rest after a wonderfully tiring day with Jaradal and some of the other children.

"What's going on?" Folara said after the excitement of greetings, when she noticed the hearth. "Why do you have so many fires in the fireplace?"

"We've been learning to make fire with stones," Willamar said.

"With Ayla's firestone?" Folara said.

"Yes. It's so easy," Marthona said.

"I promised to show you, Folara. Would you like to try now?" Ayla said.

"Have you really done it, mother?" Folara asked.

"Of course."

"And you, too, Willamar?"

"Yes. It takes some practice, but it's not hard," he said.

"Well, I guess I can't be the only one in the family who doesn't know how," Folara said.

While Ayla was showing the young woman the finer points of making a fire with stones, with advice from Jondalar and the new expert, Willamar, Marthona used the existing fires to heat cooking stones. She filled her tea-making basket with water and began to slice some cold cooked bison meat. When the cooking stones were hot, she put several in the teapot basket, bringing forth a steaming cloud, then added a couple along with a bit more water to a container made of willow withes tightly interwoven with fibers attached to a wooden base. It contained vegetables that had been cooked that morning: daylily buds, cut pieces of the green stems of poke, elder shoots, thistle stems, burdock stems, coiled baby ferns, and lily corms, flavored with wild basil, elderberry flowers, and pignut roots for added spice.

By the time Marthona had a light supper ready, Folara had added her small fire to the ones still burning in the hearth. Everyone got their own eating dishes and cups for tea and sat on cushions around the low table. After the meal, Ayla brought a bowl of leftovers and an extra piece of meat to Wolf, poured herself another cup of tea, and rejoined the others.

"I want to know more about these firestones," Willamar said. "I've never heard of people making fire like that before."

"Where did you learn to do that, Jondé?" Folara asked.

"Ayla showed me," Jondalar said.

"Where did you learn, Ayla?" Folara said.

"It wasn't anything I learned or planned or thought about, it just happened."

"But how could something like that 'just happen'?" Folara asked.

Ayla took a sip of tea and closed her eyes to recall the event. "It was one of those days when everything seemed to go wrong," she began. "My first winter in the valley was just beginning, the river was turning to ice, and my fire had gone out in the middle of the night. Whinney was still a baby and hyenas were nosing around my cave in the dark, but I couldn't find my sling. I had to chase them off by throwing cooking stones. In the morning, I was going to cut wood to make a fire, but I dropped my axe and it broke. It was the only one I had, so I had to make a new one. Luckily, I had noticed that there were flint nodules in the heap of stones and animal bones that had piled up below the cave.

"I went down to the rocky bank by the river to knap a new axe and some other tools. While I was working, I put my stone retoucher down, but my mind was on the flint and I picked up the wrong stone by mistake. It wasn't my retoucher, it was a stone like this, and when I hit the flint with it, I got a spark. It made me think of fire, and I needed to make a fire, anyway, so I decided to try to make it with a spark from the stone. After a few tries, it worked."

"You make it sound so simple," Marthona said, "but I'm not sure I would have tried to make a fire like that, even if I had seen a spark."

"I was alone in that valley, with no one to show me how to do things, or to tell me what couldn't be done," Ayla said. "I'd already hunted and killed a horse, which was against Clan traditions, and then adopted her foal, which the Clan would never have allowed. I'd done so many things I wasn't supposed to do that by then I was ready to try any idea that came to me."

"Do you have many of these firestones?" Willamar asked.

"There were a lot of firestones on that rocky beach," Jondalar answered. "Before we left the valley for the last time, we gathered as many as we could find. We gave a few away on our Journey, but I tried to save as many as I could for people here. We never found any more of them along the way."

"That's too bad," the Trade Master said. "It would have been nice to share them, perhaps even to trade them."

"But we can!" Jondalar said. "Ayla found some this morning, in Wood River Valley, just before we went to the meeting. It's the first time I've seen any since we left her valley."

"You found more? Here? Where?" Willamar asked.

"At the foot of a little waterfall," Ayla said.

"If there are some in one little place, there may be more close by," Jondalar added.

"That's true," Willamar said. "How many people have you told about these firestones?"

"I haven't had time to tell anyone, but Zelandoni knows," Jondalar said. "Folara told her."

"Who told you?" Marthona asked her.

"Ayla did, or rather I saw her use one," Folara explained. "Yesterday, when you came home, Willamar."

"But, she didn't see it herself?" Willamar asked, a grin starting.

"I don't think so," Folara said.

"This is going to be fun. I can't wait to show her!" Willamar said. "She is going to be so astounded, but she won't want to show it."

"It will be fun," Jondalar said, also grinning. "It's not easy to surprise that woman."

"That's because she knows so much," Marthona said. "But you've already impressed her more than you realize, Ayla."

"That's true," Willamar said. "They both have. Have you two got any more surprises tucked away that you haven't told us about?"

"Well, I think you're going to be amazed by the spear-thrower we're going to demonstrate tomorrow, and you can't imagine how good Ayla is with a sling," Jondalar said. "And though it might not mean too much to you, I've learned some exciting new flint-knapping techniques. Even Dalanar was impressed."

"If Dalanar was impressed, I have to be," Willamar said.

"And then there's the thread-puller," Ayla said.

"Thread-puller?" Marthona said.

"Yes, for sewing. I just couldn't learn how to pull a tiny cord or a sinew thread though a hole that was punched with an awl. Then I had an idea, but the whole Lion Camp helped to make the first one. If you like, I'll get my sewing kit and show you," Ayla said.

"Do you think it would help someone whose eyes can't see the holes as well as they once could?" Marthona asked.

"I think so," Ayla said. "Let me get it."

"Why don't you wait until tomorrow, when there's more light. It's not as easy to see in firelight as it is in sunlight," Marthona said. "But I would like to see it."

"Well, Jondalar, you have certainly caused some excitement around here," Willamar said. "Just your return would have been enough, but you brought back much more than yourself. I've always said travel opens new possibilities, advances new ideas."

"I think you're right, Willamar," Jondalar said. "But I'll tell you truthfully, I'm tired of traveling. I'm going to be content to stay home for a long time."

"You're going to the Summer Meeting, aren't you, Jondé?" Folara asked.

"Of course. We're going to be mated there, little sister," Jondalar said, putting his arm around Ayla. "Going to the Summer Meeting isn't really traveling, especially after the Journey we made. Going to the Summer Meeting is part of being home. Which reminds me, Willamar, since Joharran is planning an extra hunt before we go, do you know where we can get disguises? Ayla wants to hunt, too, and we both need them."

"I'm sure we can find something. I have an extra set of antlers, if we go after red deer. Many people have skins and other things," the Trade Master said.

"What are disguises?" Ayla asked.

"We cover ourselves with hides, and sometimes wear antlers or horns so we can get closer to a herd. Animals are leery of people, so we try to make them think we're animals," Willamar explained.

"Jondalar, maybe we could take the horses, like the time Whinney and I helped the Mamutoi hunt bison," Ayla said, then looked at Willamar. "When we're on horseback, animals don't see us, they see the horses. We get very close, and with the spear-thowers, even with just two of us, and Wolf, we've been very successful."

"Using your animals to help hunt animals? You didn't mention that when I asked if you had any more surprises tucked away. Did you think that wouldn't be amazing?" Willamar said with a smile.

"I have a feeling even they don't know all the surprises they have in store for us," Marthona commented, then, after a pause, "Would anyone like a little more chamomile tea before going to bed?" She glanced at Ayla. "I find it very soothing and relaxing, and you were put through quite an interrogation today. These Clan people have much more to them than I ever imagined."

Folara's ears pricked up at that. Everyone had been talking about the long meeting, and her friends had been after her to give them a hint, assuming she would know. She had told them that she didn't know any more than anyone else, but she managed to imply that she just couldn't say what she knew. At least now she had some idea about the subject of the meeting. She listened closely as the conversation continued.

"… they seem to have many fine qualities," Marthona was saying. "They care for their sick, and their leader seemed to have the best interests of his people foremost. The knowledge of their medicine woman must have been quite extensive, if Zelandoni's reaction is any indication, and I have a feeling she will want to know more about their spiritual leader. I think she would have liked to ask you many more questions, Ayla, but held back. Joharran was more interested in the people and their way of life."

There was a settling in, a moment of silence. Gazing at Marthona's beautiful home in the subdued mellow light cast by the fire in the hearth and the oil-burning lamps, Ayla noticed more aesthetic details. The dwelling complemented the woman and reminded Ayla of the feeling of elegance with which Ranec had arranged his living space in the Lion Camp longhouse. He was an artist, a fine carver, and he had taken the time to explain to her his feelings and ideas about creating and appreciating beauty, for himself and in homage to the Great Earth Mother. She felt that Marthona must have some of the same feeling.

Sipping warm tea, Ayla watched Jondalar's family as they relaxed quietly around the low table, and she felt a sense of peace and contentment she hadn't known before. These were people she could understand, people like her, and at that moment it struck her that she truly was one of the Others. Then she had a sudden picture of the cave of Brun's clan where she grew up, and the contrast astounded her.

Among the Zelandonii, each family had individual dwellings with screens and walls separating the living units. Voices and sounds could be heard from within the dwellings, which by custom were ignored, but each family had visual privacy. The Mamutoi had also defined areas within the Lion Camp's earthlodge for each family, with drapes that assured visual privacy, if it was desired.

In the cave of her clan, the boundaries of each family's living space were known, even if not defined with anything more than a few strategically placed stones. Privacy was a matter of social practice; one did not look directly into the hearth of one's neighbor, did not "see" beyond the invisible boundary. The Clan was good at not seeing what they were not supposed to see. Ayla recalled with a wrenching ache the way even those who loved her had simply stopped seeing her when she was cursed with death.

The Zelandonii also defined the spaces within and outside the dwellings, with places for sleeping, cooking and eating, and various work projects. Within the Clan, areas for different activities were not as precisely located. Generally, sleeping places were made and a hearth located, but for the most part, the division of space was a matter of custom, habit, and behavior. They were mental and social divisions, not physical ones. Women avoided places where men were working, men stayed away from the women's activities, and work projects were often done where it was convenient at the time.

The Zelandonii seem to have more time to do things than the Clan, Ayla was thinking. They all seem to make so many things, and not just necessary things. Maybe it's the way they hunt that makes the difference. She was lost in thought and didn't hear a question that had been put to her.

"Ayla?… Ayla!" Jondalar said loudly.

"Oh! I'm sorry, Jondalar. What did you say?"

"What were you thinking about that you didn't even hear me?"

"I was thinking about the differences between the Others and the Clan, and I was wondering why the Zelandonii seem to make more things than the Clan did," Ayla said.

"Did you come up with an answer?" Marthona asked.

"I don't know, but maybe different ways of hunting might have something to do with it," Ayla said. "When Brun and his hunters went out, they usually brought back a whole animal, sometimes two.

The Lion Camp could count about the same number of people as Brun's clan, but when they hunted, everyone who could went out, men, women, even some children, if only for the drive. They usually killed many animals and brought back only the best and richest parts, and saved most of the meat for winter. I don't recall a time that either starved, but by the end of winter, the clan was often left with only the leanest and least filling food, and sometimes had to hunt in spring when animals were thin. The Lion Camp ran out of some foods, and were hungry for greens, but they seemed to eat well even in late spring."

"That may be something to mention to Joharran, later," Willamar said, yawning as he got up. "But right now, I'm going to bed. We're likely to have a busy day tomorrow, too."

Marthona got up from the cushions when Willamar did and carried the serving dishes into the cooking room.

Folara stood up, stretching and yawning in a way that was so similar to Willamar, Ayla smiled at the resemblance. "I'm going to bed, too. I'll help you clean those dishes in the morning, mother," she said, wiping out her wooden eating bowl with a small piece of soft deerskin before putting it away. "I'm too tired now."

"Are you going hunting, Folara?" Jondalar asked.

"I haven't decided. I'll see how I feel later," she replied, heading for her sleeping room.

After Marthona and Willamar went into their sleeping space, Jondalar moved aside the low table and spread out their sleeping furs. As they settled into them, Wolf came to sleep beside Ayla. He didn't mind staying out of the way when people were around, but when Ayla went to bed, he felt his place was beside her.

"I really like your family, Jondalar," Ayla said. "I think I'm going to like living with the Zelandonii. I was thinking about what you said last night, and you're right. I shouldn't judge everyone by a few unpleasant people."

"Don't judge everyone by the best, either," Jondalar said. "You never know how people will react to something. I'd take them one at a time."

"I think everyone has some good and some bad," Ayla said. "Some have a little more of one than the other. I always hope people will have more good than bad, and I like to believe most do. Remember Frebec? He was really nasty in the beginning, but in the end, he turned out to be nice."

"I have to admit, he surprised me," Jondalar said, snuggling close to her and nuzzling her neck.

"You don't surprise me, though," she said, smiling as she felt his hand between her thighs. "I know what you're thinking."

"I hope you're thinking the same thing," he said. As she reached up to kiss him, she returned the gesture. "And I think maybe you are."

The kiss was long and lingering. They both felt their desire grow, but there was no rush, no need to hurry. They were home, Jondalar thought. Through all the difficulties of the long and dangerous Journey, he had brought her home with him. Now she was safe, the dangers were over. He stopped and looked down at her, and felt so much love for her, he didn't know if he could contain it.

Even in the soft light of dying fires, Ayla could see the love in blue eyes that were a rich shade of violet in the firelight, and she felt herself fill with the same emotion. When she was growing up, she never dreamed she would find a man like Jondalar, never dreamed she would be so lucky.

He felt a catch in his throat and bent down to kiss her again, and knew he had to have her, to love her, to join with her. He was grateful to know that she was there for him. She always seemed ready for him, to want him whenever he wanted her. She had never played coy games with him, the way some women did.

Marona came to his mind for a moment. She had liked to play those games, not as much with him, but with others. And suddenly he was grateful that he had gone off with his brother on an unknown adventure instead of staying and mating with Marona. If only Thonolan had lived…

But Ayla was alive, though he had come close to losing her more than once. Jondalar felt her mouth open to his searching tongue, felt the warmth of her breath. He kissed her neck, and nibbled her ear-lobe, and ran his tongue down to her throat in a warm caress.

She held herself still, resisting the tickling sensation and letting it become internal spasms of expectation. He kissed the hollow of her throat and detoured to one side toward an erect nipple, circling it, nibbling it. Her anticipation was so intense, she almost felt a sense of relief when he finally took it in his mouth and suckled. She felt the jolt of excitement in the depths of her being, and at the place of her Pleasures.

He was ready, he was so ready, but he felt himself fill even more when he heard her soft moan as he suckled and gently bit first one nipple and then the other. The urge suddenly came upon him so strongly, he wanted her that instant, but he wanted her to be as ready as he was. He knew how to bring her there.

She could feel his eager desire, and it fired her own. She would have been happy to open herself to him at that moment, but when he pushed down the top cover of their sleeping roll and moved lower, she held her breath, knowing what was coming and wanting it.

His tongue circled her navel for only a moment; he didn't want to wait, and neither did she. As she kicked off the top cover, she felt a moment's hesitation at the thought of the others in their sleeping places nearby. Ayla wasn't used to being in a dwelling with other people and felt a little constrained. Jondalar seemed to have no such compunctions.

The unease slipped from her mind as she felt him kiss her thigh, press her legs apart and kiss the other, and then kiss the soft folds of her womanhood. He savored her familiar taste, licked slowly, and then found her small, hard nodule.

Her moan was louder. She felt flashes of Pleasure like lightning blaze through her as he sucked and massaged her with his tongue. She didn't know she was so ready. It came on her quicker than she expected. Almost without warning, she was there, feeling peaks of Pleasure and a overwhelming desire for him, for his manhood.

She reached for him, pulled him up to her, and helped him to enter. He penetrated deeply. With the first stroke, he struggled to hold back, to wait a little, but she was ready, urging him, and he gave himself up to it. With joyous abandon, he plunged, fully, once more, and then again, and then he was there, as she was, feeling the waves of Pleasure mount up and spill over, again and again and again.

Jondalar rested on top of her, a moment she had always savored, but then he remembered that she was pregnant and he worried that his weight was too much. She felt an instant of disappointment when he moved away so soon.

As he rolled off to the side, he wondered again if she could be right. Was this how that baby had started inside her? Was it his baby, too, as Ayla always insisted? Had the Mother given her children not only this wondrous Gift of Pleasure, but was it Her way of Blessing a woman with new life? Could that be why men were created, to start the new life inside a woman? He wanted Ayla to be right, he wanted it to be true, but how would he ever know?

After a while, Ayla got up. From a travel pack she took a small wooden bowl and poured some water into it from the waterbag. Wolf had retreated to his chosen corner near the entrance and greeted her with his usual tentative approach after their Pleasures. She smiled at him and gave him the signal that he had done well; then, standing over the night basket, she cleaned herself as Iza had taught her when she first became a woman. Iza, I know you doubted that I would have need of the training, she thought, but you were right to teach me the cleansing rituals then.

Jondalar was half-asleep when she went back to bed. He'd been too tired to get up, but she'd air out and brush off their sleeping roll to clean it in the morning. Now that they were going to stay in one place for a while, she would even have time to wash their furs, she thought. Nezzie had shown her how to do it, but it took time and care.

Ayla rolled over on her side and Jondalar cuddled up behind her, resting on his side. They were nestled together like two spoons on edge, and he fell asleep holding her, but she was unable to nod off, although she was comfortable and satisfied. She had slept much later than usual that morning, and as she lay awake, she began thinking about the Clan and the Others again. Recollections of her life with them and her stays with various groups of Others kept coming to her mind, and she found herself making comparisons.

The same kinds of materials were at hand for both peoples, but the uses to which they had been put were not quite the same. Both hunted animals, both gathered foods that grew, and both used hides, bones, vegetal materials, and stones for clothing, shelter, implements, and weapons, but there were differences.

Perhaps the most noticeable was that while Jondalar's people decorated their environment with paintings and carvings of animals and designs, the people of the Clan did not. Though she didn't quite know how to explain it, even to herself, she did perceive that people of the Clan expressed the beginnings of such decoration. Red ochre in a burial, for example, that imparted color to the body. Their interest in unusual objects that they collected to put in their amulets. Totem scars and color markings made on the body for special purposes. But the primeval people of the Clan created no legacy of art.

Only Ayla's kind of people did; only people like the Mamutoi and the Zelandonii, and the rest of the Others they had met on their Journey. She wondered if the unknown people to whom she had been born decorated the material objects in their world, and she believed they did. It was the ones who came later, the ones who shared that cold ancient world with the Clan for a time, the ones they called the Others, who were the first to see an animal in a moving, living, breathing form and reproduce it as a drawing or a carving. It was a profound distinction.

The creation of art, the delineation of animals or purposeful markings, was an expression of the ability to make abstractions – the ability to take the essence of a thing and make of it a symbol that stands for the thing itself. The symbol for a thing has another form as well: a sound, a word. A brain that could think in terms of art was a brain capable of developing to its fullest potential another abstraction of great significance: language. And the same brain that was capable of creating a synthesis of the abstraction of art and the abstraction of language would someday form a synergism of both symbols, in effect, a memory of the words: writing.

Unlike the day before, Ayla opened her eyes very early the next morning. No red coals glowed in the fireplace and all the lamps were out, but she could discern the contours of the limestone shelf high overhead, above the dark wall panels of Marthona's dwelling, in the faint reflection of first light, the initial lightening of the sky that heralded the coming of the sun. No one else was stirring when she quietly slipped out of the furs and made her way in the not quite pitch-dark to use the night basket. Wolf lifted his head the moment she got up, whined a greeting of happiness, and followed her.

She felt a little nauseated, but not quite enough to vomit, and had an urge for something solid to calm her unsettled stomach. She went to the cooking room and started a small fire, then took a few bites of the bison meat that was left on the pelvic bone serving platter from the night before, and a few soggy vegetables from the bottom of the cooking-storage basket. She wasn't sure if she felt better or not, but she decided to see if she could make a stomach-settling tea for herself. She didn't know who had made the tea for her the day before, but wondered if it was Jondalar and thought she'd make one of his favorite morning teas as well.

She got her medicine bag from her traveling pack. Now that we're finally here, I can replenish my supply of herbs and medicines, she thought as she looked at each package and thought about its uses. Sweet rush can help an upset stomach, but no, Iza told me it could cause a miscarriage, and I don't want to do that. While she was considering the possible side effects, her mind supplied another bit from her extensive store of medicinal knowledge. Black birch bark can help prevent a miscarriage, but I don't have any. Well, I don't think I'm in danger of losing this one.

I had a much harder time with Durc. Ayla remembered when Iza went out to get fresh snakeroot so she wouldn't lose him. Iza was already sick by then, and she got cold and wet and it made her worse. I don't think she ever recovered completely, Ayla thought. I miss you, Iza. I wish you were nearby so I could tell you that I did find a man to mate. I wish you had lived to meet him. I think you would have approved.

Basil, of course! That can help prevent miscarriage, and it makes a nice drink. She put that package aside. Mint would be good. It settles nausea and helps stomachaches and tastes good. Jondalar likes it, too. She kept that pouch out, too. And hops, that's good for headaches and cramps, relaxes, she thought as she put it beside the mint. Not too much, though, hops can make you drowsy.

Milk thistle seeds might be good for me right now, but they need to be steeped a long time, Ayla thought as she continued going through the limited supply of medicinal herbs she had with her. Woodruff, yes, it smells so good. And it calms the stomach, but it's not too strong. And chamomile, I could use that instead of mint, it's good for upset stomachs, too. It might taste better with the other herbs, but mint for Jondalar. Marjoram could be good, but no, Iza always used the fresh tops for stomach problems, not dried.

What else was it that Iza liked to use fresh? Raspberry leaf! Of course! That's what I need. It's especially good for morning sickness. I don't have any leaves, but there were raspberries at the feast the other night, so they must grow nearby. It's the right season, too. It's best to pick the leaf when the berries are ripe. I should make sure I get enough for when I go into labor. Iza always used it when a woman was delivering. She told me it relaxed the mother's womb and helped the baby come out more easily.

I still have some linden flowers left; that's especially good for a nervous stomach, and the leaves are sweet and make a nice-tasting tea. The Sharamudoi had a wonderful big old linden tree nearby. I wonder if any linden trees grow around here? She saw movement out of the corner of her eye and looked up to see Marthona coming out of her sleeping area. Wolf also looked up, then stood up expectantly.

"You're up early this morning, Ayla," she said in a soft voice, so as not to disturb those who were still sleeping. She reached down to pat the wolf to acknowledge him.

"I usually am… if I don't stay up late the night before, feasting and drinking strong beverages," Ayla replied in an equally quiet tone and with a wry smile.

"Yes, Laramar makes a potent drink, but people seem to like it," Marthona said. "I see you have a fire going already. I usually try to bank the fire at night so I have coals to start one in the morning, but with those firestones you showed us, I could get lazy. What are you making?"

"A morning tea," Ayla said. "I like to make a wake-up tea for Jondalar in the morning, too. Can I make some for you?"

"When the water is hot, I have a tea mixture that Zelandoni wants me to take in the morning," Marthona said, starting to clean up the remains of the late supper from the night before. "Jondalar told me about your habit of making him morning tea. He was determined to make a tea for you to drink when you woke up yesterday. He said you always had a hot cup ready for him, and for once, he wanted you to wake up to tea. I suggested that he make mint, since it tastes good cold, and it seemed you might sleep late."

"I wondered if it was Jondalar who made that. But were you the one who left the basin and water?" Ayla asked. Marthona smiled and nodded.

Ayla reached for the bentwood tongs used to pick up cooking rocks, took a hot stone from the fire, and dropped it into the tightly woven tea basket full of water. It steamed and hissed and sent up a few preliminary bubbles. She added another, and after a while, she removed the stones and added more. When the water was boiling, both women infused their individual tea mixtures. Though the low table had been moved closer to the entry to make room for the extra sleeping furs, there was ample room for the two women to sit companionably around it on cushions, sipping their hot beverages.

"I've been wanting a chance to talk to you, Ayla," Marthona murmured softly. "I often wondered if Jondalar would ever find a woman he could love." She almost said "again," but caught herself. "He always had many friends, was well-liked, but he kept his real feelings to himself and few people knew him well. Thonolan was closer to him than anyone. I always thought he would mate one day, but I didn't know if he would ever allow himself to fall in love. I believe he has." She smiled at Ayla.

"It's true that he often keeps his feelings to himself. I almost mated another man before I realized that. Even though I loved Jondalar, I thought he had stopped loving me," Ayla said.

"I don't think there is any doubt. It's quite obvious that he loves you, and I'm happy he found you." Marthona took a sip of tea. "I was proud of you the other day, Ayla. It took courage to face people the way you did after Marona's trick… You know she and Jondalar had talked of mating, don't you?"

"Yes, he told me."

"Though I would not have objected, of course, I will admit that I'm glad he didn't choose her. She is an attractive woman and everyone always thought she was perfect for him, but I didn't," Marthona said.

Ayla rather hoped Marthona would tell her why. The woman stopped and took a drink of her tea.

"I would like to give you something a little more appropriate to wear than the 'gift' Marona gave you," the older woman said when she finished her drink and put the cup down.

"You have already given me something beautiful to wear," Ayla said. "Dalanar's mother's necklace."

Marthona smiled as she got up and went quietly into her sleeping room. She returned with a garment draped over her arm. She held it up to show Ayla. It was a long tunic in a pale, soft color rather like the whitened stems of grass after the long winter, beautifully decorated with beads and shells, sewings of colored thread, and long fringes, but it was not made of leather. On close inspection, Ayla saw that it was made of thin cords or threads of some fiber crossed over and under each other, rather like basketry in texture, but very tightly woven. How could anyone weave such fine cords like that? It was similar to the mat on the low table, but even more fine.

"I have never seen anything like this," Ayla said. "What kind of material is it? Where does it come from?"

"I make it; I weave it on a special frame," Marthona said. "Do you know the plant called flax? A tall, thin plant with blue flowers?"

"Yes, I'm familiar with a plant like that, and I think Jondalar said it was called flax," Ayla said. "It's good for severe skin problems, like boils and open sores and rashes, even inside the mouth."

"Have you ever twined it into cordage?" Marthona asked.

"I may have, I don't recall, but I can understand how it could be. It does have long fibers."

"That's what I used to make this."

"I know that flax is useful, but I didn't know it could be used to make something as beautiful as this."

"I thought you might be able to use it for your Matrimonial. We'll be leaving for the Summer Meeting soon, at the next full moon, and you said you didn't have anything to wear for special occasions," Marthona said.

"Oh, Marthona, how nice of you," Ayla said, "but I do have a Matrimonial outfit. Nezzie made it for me, and I promised her I would wear it. I hope you don't mind. I brought it with me all the way from the Summer Meeting last year. It is made in the Mamutoi style, and they have special customs about the way it should be worn."

"I think it would be most appropriate for you to wear a Mamutoi Matrimonial outfit, Ayla. I just didn't know if you had anything to wear, and I wasn't sure if we'd have time to make something before we leave. Please keep this anyway," Marthona said, smiling as she gave it to her. Ayla thought she seemed relieved. "You may have other occasions when you will want to wear something special."

"Thank you! This is so beautiful!" Ayla said, holding it up and looking at it again, then in front of her to see how the loose garment would fit. "It must take a long time to make."

"Yes, but I enjoy it. I've worked out the process over many years. Willamar helped me to make the frame I use, and Thonolan, before he left. Most people have a special craft of some kind. We often trade the things we make, or give them as gifts. I'm getting a little old to do much of anything else now, but I don't see as well as I once did, especially the close work."

"I was going to show you the thread-puller today!" Ayla said, jumping up. "I think it would make it easier for someone who doesn't see as well to sew. I'll get it." She went to her travel packs to get her sewing kit and saw one of the special packages she had brought with her. Smiling to herself, she took it back to the table, too. "Would you like to see my Matrimonial outfit, Marthona?"

"Yes, I would, but I didn't want to ask. Some people like to keep it a secret and surprise everyone," Marthona commented.

"I have a different surprise," Ayla said as she unpacked her Matrimonial outfit. "But I think I will tell you. Life has begun inside me. I am carrying Jondalar's baby."