The Land of Painted Caves (31 page)

“Her first man, Joconan, had been a powerful leader and she learned a great deal from him, but in the beginning, I was told, she didn’t so much love him as admire and respect him. I had the feeling that she almost worshipped him, but that isn’t the way Zelandoni put it. She said Marthona worked very hard to please him. He was older, and she was his beautiful young woman, though he had been ready to take on two women at the time, perhaps even more. He hadn’t chosen to mate before, and didn’t want to wait long to have a family once he decided to have one. More than one mate would give him more assurance that there would be children born to his hearth.

“But Marthona was soon pregnant with Joharran, and when she gave birth to a son, Joconan wasn’t in such a hurry anymore. Besides, not long after her son was born, Joconan started to get sick. It wasn’t obvious at first and he kept it to himself. Soon he discovered that your mother was more than beautiful, Jondalar; she was also intelligent. She found her own strength in helping him. As he grew weaker, she took on more and more of his responsibilities as leader, and did it so well that when he died, the people of her Cave wanted her to stay on as leader.”

“What kind of man was Joconan? You said he was powerful. I think Joharran is a powerful leader. He usually manages to persuade most people to agree with him and do what he wants,” Jondalar said. Ayla was fascinated. She had always wanted to know more about Marthona, but she was not a woman to speak much about herself.

“Joharran is a good leader, but not powerful in the same way that Joconan was. He’s more like Marthona than her mate. Joconan could be daunting sometimes. He had a very commanding presence. People found it very easy to go along with him, and difficult to oppose him. I think some people were afraid to disagree with him, though he never threatened anyone, that I was aware of. Some people used to say he was the Mother’s chosen. People, young men in particular, liked to be around him, and young women threw themselves at him. They say almost all young women wore fringes then, trying to snare him. It’s no wonder he waited until he was older before he mated,” Zelandoni said.

“Do you think fringes really help a woman snare a man?” Ayla asked.

“I think it depends on the man,” the Donier said. “Some people think that when a woman wears a fringe, it suggests her pubic hair, and that she is willing to expose it. If a man is easily excited, or interested in a particular woman, a fringe can arouse him and he’ll follow her around until she decides to capture him. But a man like Joconan knew his own mind, and I don’t think he was interested in a woman who felt she needed to wear a fringe to attract a man. It was too obvious. Marthona never wore fringes and she never lacked for attention. When Joconan decided he wanted her and was willing to take the young woman from the distant Cave to be trained as a Zelandoni, since they were like sisters, they all agreed. It was the Zelandoni who objected to the double mating. He had promised that the visitor would be returned to her people after she learned the necessary skills.”

Ayla knew the Donier was a good Storyteller, and she found herself totally enraptured, partly by the storytelling, but more by the story that was being told.

“Joconan was a strong leader. It was under his leadership that the Ninth Cave grew so large. The cave always had the size to accommodate more people than usual, but not many leaders were willing to be responsible for so many,” Zelandoni said. “When he died, Marthona was overcome with grief. I think for a time she wanted to follow him to the next world, but she had a child, and Joconan left a big hole in the community. It needed to be filled.

“People started coming to her when they needed the kind of help that a leader provides. Things like resolving disputes, organizing visits to other Caves, travels to Summer Meetings, planning hunts and deciding how much each hunter needed to share with the Cave, both immediately and for the next winter. After Joconan got sick, they got used to coming to Marthona, and she to handling the problems. Their need and her son may be what kept her going. After a while, she became the acknowledged leader, and eventually her grief eased, but she told the Zelandoni before me that she didn’t think she would ever mate again. Then Dalanar walked into the Ninth Cave.”

“Everyone says that he was the great love of her life,” Jondalar said.

“Dalanar was the great love of her life. For him, Marthona could almost have given up her leadership, but not quite. She felt they needed her. And though he loved her as much as she loved him, after a while, he needed something of his own. He wasn’t content to sit in her shadow. Unlike you, Jondalar, his skill in working with the stone wasn’t enough.”

“But he is one of the most skilled I have ever met. His work is known by everyone, and they all acknowledge him as the best. The only flint-knapper I’ve ever known who can compare with him is Wymez, of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi. I always wished the two of them could meet,” Jondalar said.

“Perhaps, in a sense they have, through you,” the large woman said. “Jondalar, you must know that if you aren’t already, you will soon be the most renowned flint-knapper of the Zelandonii. Dalanar is a skilled tool-maker, there’s no question of that, but he’s Lanzadonii now. Anyway, his real skill was always people. He is happy now. He has founded his own Cave, his own people, and though in a way he will always be Zelandonii, his Lanzadonii will someday come into their own.

“And you are the son of his heart, as well as the son of his hearth, Jondalar. He’s proud of you. He loves Jerika’s daughter, Joplaya, too. He’s proud of you both. Although in a hidden place in his heart, he might always love Marthona, he adores Jerika. I think he loves that she looks so exotic, and that she is so little, yet so fierce. That’s part of what attracts him. He’s so big that next to him she looks half his size, she looks delicate, but she is more than a match for him. She has no desire to be leader; she’s happy to let him do it, although I have no doubt that she could. Her strength of will and character are formidable.”

“You are certainly right about that, Zelandoni!” he said, with a laugh, one of his big, lusty warm laughs, its spontaneous enthusiasm all the more astonishing because it was unexpected. Jondalar was a serious man, and though he smiled easily, he seldom laughed out loud. When he did, the unreserved exuberance of it came as a surprise.

“Dalanar found someone after he and Marthona severed the knot, but many doubted that she would ever find a man to replace him, would ever love another man in the same way, and she didn’t, but she found Willamar. Her love for him is not less than her love for Dalanar, but of a different character, just as her love for Dalanar was not the same as her love for Joconan. Willamar also has a skill with people—that’s true of all the men in her life—but he satisfies it as the Trade Master, traveling, making contacts, seeing new and unusual places. He has seen more, learned more, and met more people than anyone, including you, Jondalar. He loves to travel, but even more, he loves coming home and sharing his adventures and knowledge about the people he met. He has established trading networks all across the Zelandonii land and beyond, and has brought back useful news, exciting stories, and unusual objects. He was a tremendous help to Marthona as leader, and now to Joharran. There is no man I respect more. And, of course, her only daughter was born to his hearth. Marthona always wanted a daughter, and your sister, Folara, is a lovely young woman,” Zelandoni said.

Ayla understood the feeling. She too had wanted a daughter very much, and she glanced down at her sleeping infant with a strong feeling of love.

“Yes, Folara is beautiful, and also intelligent and fearless,” Jondalar said. “When we first arrived, and everyone else was so uneasy about the horses and all, she didn’t hesitate. She ran down the path to greet me. I’ll never forget that.”

“Yes, Folara makes your mother proud, but more, with a daughter one always knows that her children are your own grandchildren. I’m sure she loves the children born to her sons’ hearths, but with a daughter there is no doubt. Then, of course, your brother Thonolan was also born to Willamar’s hearth and though she played no favorites, he was the one who made her smile. But he made everyone smile. He had a way with people that was even more winning than Willamar’s, warm, open friendliness—qualities no one could resist, and he had the same love of travel. I doubt that you would ever have gone on such a long Journey if not for him, Jondalar.”

“You’re right. I never thought of making a Journey until he decided to go. Visiting the Lanzadonii was far enough for me.”

“Why did you decide to go with him?” Zelandoni asked.

“I don’t know if I can explain it,” Jondalar said. “He was always fun to be around, so I knew it would be easy traveling with him, and he did make the trip sound exciting, but I didn’t think we’d go as far as we did. I think part of it was that sometimes he could be a little reckless and I felt a need to look out for him. He was my brother and I think I loved him more than anyone I knew. I knew I’d come home someday, if it was possible, and I felt that if I was with him, he’d come back home with me, eventually. I don’t know … something was pulling me,” Jondalar said. He glanced at Ayla, who had been listening even more intently than Zelandoni.

He didn’t know it, but my totem and maybe the Mother pulled him, Ayla thought. He had to come and find me.

“What about Marona? Obviously you didn’t feel enough for her to make you want to stay. Did she have anything to do with your decision to go?” the First asked. This was the first time since his return that the Donier had an opportunity to really talk to him about why he took his long Journey, and she was going to take advantage of it. “What would you have done if Thonolan had not decided to make a Journey?”

“I guess I would have gone to the Summer Meeting and probably mated Marona,” Jondalar said. “Everyone expected it, and there wasn’t anyone I cared for more, at that time.” He looked up and smiled at Ayla. “But to be honest, I wasn’t thinking about her when I decided to go, I was worried about mother. I think she guessed Thonolan might not return, and I was afraid she might worry that I wouldn’t either. I did plan to come back, but you never know. Anything can happen on a Journey, and many things did, but I knew Willamar wouldn’t be going away, and she had Folara and Joharran.”

“What makes you think Marthona did not expect Thonolan to return?” the First asked.

“It was something that she said to us when we left to go visit Dalanar. Thonolan was the one who noticed it. Mother said ‘Good Journey’ to him, not ‘Until you return,’ as she did to me. And remember when we first told mother and Willamar about Thonolan? Willamar said that mother never expected him to return, and as I feared, she was afraid I wouldn’t come back either when she found out I had gone with him. She said she was afraid she had lost two sons,” Jondalar said.

That was why he couldn’t stay with the Sharamudoi when Tholie and Markeno asked us to, Ayla thought. They were so welcoming and I had grown so fond of them during our visit, I wanted to stay, but Jondalar couldn’t. Now I know why, and I’m glad we came all the way back. Marthona treats me like a daughter and a friend, and so does Zelandoni. I really like Folara, and Proleva and Joharran, and many others. Not everyone, but most people have been nice.

“Marthona was right,” Zelandoni said. “Thonolan was favored with many Gifts, and he was greatly loved. Many people used to say he was a favorite of the Mother. I never like it when people say that, but in his case it was prophetic. The other side of being one of Her favorites is that She can’t stand to be separated from them for too long and tends to take Her favorites back early, when they are still young. You were gone so long, I wondered if you were a little too favored, also.”

“I didn’t think I’d be gone five years,” Jondalar said.

“Most people doubted that you or Thonolan would ever return after you were gone two years. Occasionally someone would mention that you and Thonolan had gone on a Journey, but they were already starting to forget you. I wonder if you know how stunned people were when you returned. It wasn’t only that you appeared with a foreign woman, and those horses and a wolf,” Zelandoni said, and smiled wryly. “It was that you came back at all.”

14

“D
o you think we should even try to take the horses inside that cave?” Ayla said the next morning.

“Most of the cave has high ceilings, but it is a cave. That means once we get away from the entrance, it’s dark, except for the light we bring with us, and the floor is uneven. You have to be careful because it falls down to a lower level in several places. It should be empty now, but bears use it in winter. You can see their wallows and their scratch marks,” Zelandoni said.

“Cave bears?” Ayla asked.

“From the size of the scratches, it’s very likely that some cave bears have been inside. There are smaller marks, but I don’t know if they are from smaller brown bears, or young cave bears,” the Donier explained. “It’s a very long walk to the primary area, and just as long back. It will take us, or at least it will take me, all day. I haven’t done it for some years and, to be honest, I suspect this will be my last time.”

“Why don’t I take Whinney inside and see how she behaves,” Ayla said. “I should take Gray, too. I think I will use halters for both of them.”

“And I’ll take Racer,” Jondalar said. “We can walk them in by themselves, and see how they take to it, before we connect the pole-drags.”

Zelandoni watched as they put halters on the horses and walked the animals toward the mouth of the large cave. Wolf followed them. The Donier didn’t plan to take them through the entire cavern. She herself didn’t know exactly how extensive this sacred site was, though she had a good idea.

It was a massive cavern more than ten miles long made up of a maze of galleries, some connected and some going off in every direction, with three underground levels, and about seven miles to the part she wanted to show them. It would be a long walk, but she had mixed feelings about using the pole-drag. Even if she was slower, she felt she could still make the trek and while it might be easier, she didn’t really want to be going into the sacred cavern looking backward.

When Jondalar and Ayla came out, they were shaking their heads and comforting the horses. “I’m sorry,” Ayla said. “I think it could be the scent of bears, but both Whinney and Racer were very nervous in that cave. They shied away from the bear wallows, and the darker it got, the more uneasy and agitated they became. I’m sure Wolf will come with us, but the horses don’t like it in there.”

“I’m sure I can walk it, but it will take more time,” Zelandoni said with a feeling of relief. “We will need to bring food and water with us, and warm clothes. It will get cold in there. And plenty of lamps and torches. Also those thick mats you made out of the cattail leaves, in case we want to sit. There will be some rocks or cave growths on the ground, but they will likely be damp and muddy.”

Jondalar packed most of their supplies in his sturdy backframe, but Zelandoni also had one, like Jondalar’s though not as big, made of stiff rawhide attached to a frame. The slender round poles of the frame came from the new stems of fast-growing trees, like the variety of willow known as poplar that shot up straight in one season. Jondalar and Zelandoni also had implements and pouches dangling from their waist thongs. Ayla had her haversack, and the rest of her equipment, and of course, Jonayla.

They made one last check of their campsite before they left, with Ayla and Jondalar also trying to make sure the horses would be fine for the day while they were deep in the cavern. They lit one torch to start with from the fire before they banked it down. Then Ayla signaled to Wolf to stay with them, and they started into Mammoth Cavern.

Though the entrance was rather large, it was nothing to the actual size of the cave, but it gave natural light for the first part of the trek and their single torch was sufficient. As they continued into the enormous space, the only thing to be seen was the inside of a huge cave that had obviously been used by bears. Ayla wasn’t sure, but she thought that no matter how big a cave was, only one bear at a time would use it in any one season. Many large oval depressions cratered the ground, which implied that bears had used the cave for a very long time, and the bear claw scratches on the walls left no doubt about what had made the bear hollows. Wolf stayed close, walking beside her, occasionally brushing against her leg, which was reassuring.

After they had proceeded deeply enough into the cave that no outside light could be detected and the only way they could find their way was with the light sources they brought with them, Ayla began to feel the cold inside the cave. She had brought a warm tunic with long sleeves and a separate head covering for herself, and an elongated parka with a hood for her infant. She stopped and untied Jonayla’s carrying blanket, but as soon as she was away from her mother’s warmth, she too noticed the cold and began to fuss. Ayla quickly dressed both of them, and when the baby was close to her mother again and felt her warmth, she settled down. The others also put on warmer clothing.

When they started out again, the First began to sing. Both Ayla and Jondalar looked at her, rather surprised. She started with a soft hum, but after a while, though she didn’t use words, her singing grew louder, with greater changes in scale and in pitch, more like tonal exercises. Her voice was so full and rich it seemed to fill the huge cave, and her companions thought it was beautiful.

They had gone about a half mile into the cavern, and were walking three abreast in the large space, with Zelandoni in the middle between Ayla and Jondalar, when the sound of the woman’s voice seemed to change, to gain an echoing resonance. Suddenly Wolf surprised them all and joined in with the eerie howl of wolfsong. It sent a shiver down Jondalar’s back, and Ayla felt Jonayla squirming and seeming to crawl up her back. Then suddenly without saying a word but still singing, the Donier reached out with both hands and stopped her companions. They looked at her and seeing that she was gazing at the left wall, they also turned to see what was there. That was when they saw the first sign that the cavern was more than a huge, rather frightening, empty grotto that seemed to go on forever.

At first Ayla didn’t see anything except some reddish-colored rounded flint outcroppings, which had been a common sight on all the walls. Then, high on the wall, she noticed some black marks that did not look natural. Suddenly her mind made sense of what her eyes were seeing. Painted on the wall in black outline were the shapes of mammoths. As she observed more closely, she saw three mammoths facing left, as though marching out of the cave. Then behind the last one, the outline of the back of a bison, and slightly confused with that, the distinctive shape of the head and back of another mammoth facing right. A short distance and a little higher up was a face with a distinctive beard shape, an eye, two horns, and the hump of another bison. Six animals in all, or enough of an impression to identify that many, had been painted on the wall. Ayla felt a sudden chill and shuddered.

“I’ve camped in front of this cave many times, and I didn’t know these were here. Who made these paintings?” Jondalar asked.

“I don’t know,” Zelandoni said. “No one knows for sure—the Ancients, the Ancestors. They are not mentioned in the Elder Legends. It is said that long ago there were many more mammoths around here, and woolly rhinoceroses, too. We find many old bones and tusks yellowed with age, but now we rarely see the animals. It has become quite an event when they are spotted, like the rhinoceros those boys tried to kill last year.”

“There seemed to be quite a few where the Mamutoi live,” Ayla said.

“Yes, we went on a big hunt with them,” Jondalar said, and added thoughtfully, “but it is different there. It’s much drier and colder. Not as much snow. When we hunted mammoth with the Mamutoi, the wind just blew the snow around the dry grass still standing on the open land. Here, when you see mammoths heading north in a hurry, you know a big snow storm is on the way. The farther north you go, the colder it is, and after a certain distance, it gets drier too. Mammoths flounder in heavy snow, and cave lions know it and follow them. You know the saying ‘Never go forth, when mammoths go north,’ ” Jondalar said. “If the snow doesn’t catch you, the lions will.”

Since they had stopped, Zelandoni took out a new torch from her backframe and used the one Jondalar was holding to light it. Although his was not burned out yet, it was smoldering and had been giving off a lot of smoke. When she was through, he hit his torch against a stone to knock off the burnt charcoal from the end, which caused it to burn brighter. Ayla felt her baby still squirming a little in the blanket on her back. Jonayla had been sleeping, the darkness and the motion of her mother walking lulling her, but she might be waking, Ayla thought. Once they started walking again, the infant settled down.

“The men of the Clan hunted mammoth,” Ayla said. “I went along with the hunters once, not to hunt—women of the Clan don’t hunt—but to help dry the meat and carry it back.” Then, as an afterthought, she added, “I don’t think the people of the Clan would ever come into a cave like this.”

“Why not?” Zelandoni asked as they walked deeper into the cave.

“They wouldn’t be able to talk, or maybe I should say they couldn’t understand each other very well. It’s too dark, even with torches,” Ayla said. “Besides, it’s hard to talk with your hands when you are holding a torch.”

The comment made Zelandoni again aware of her odd way of saying certain sounds, as was often the case when Ayla talked about the Clan, especially the differences between them and the Zelandonii. “But they can hear and they have words. You’ve told me some of their words,” she said.

“Yes, they have some words,” Ayla said, then continued to explain that to the Clan, the sounds of speech were secondary. They had names for things, but movement and gestures were primary. It wasn’t only hand signs; body language was even more important. Where the hands were held when the signs were made; the posture, bearing, and stance of the person communicating; the ages and genders of those both making the signs and to whom they were given; and often barely perceptible indications and expressions, a slight movement of a foot or hand or eyebrow, were all part of their sign language. One couldn’t even see it all if one focused only on looking at the face, or just listening to the words.

From an early age, children of the Clan had to learn how to perceive language, not just hear it. As a result, very complex and comprehensive ideas could be expressed with very little obvious movement and even less sound—but not over a great distance or in the dark. That was a major disadvantage. They had to see it. Ayla told them of one old man who had been going blind, who finally gave up and died because he couldn’t communicate anymore; he couldn’t see what people were saying. Of course, sometimes the Clan did need to speak in the dark, or shout over a distance. That was why they had developed some words, used some sounds, but their use of speaking words was much more limited. “Just as our use of gestures is limited,” she said. “People like us, the ones they call ‘the Others,’ also use posture, expression, and gesture to speak, to communicate, but not as much.”

“What do you mean?” Zelandoni said.

“We don’t use sign language as consciously, or as expressively, as the Clan. If I make a beckoning gesture,” she said, showing the movement as she explained, “most people know it means to ‘come.’ If I make it quickly or with some agitation, it implies urgency, but from any distance there’s usually no way to tell if the urgency is because someone is hurt or if the evening meal is getting cold. When we look at each other and see the shape of the words or the expressions on a face, it tells us more, but even in the dark, or in a fog, or from a distance we can still communicate with almost as much understanding. Even shouting from a great distance, we can explain very complete and difficult ideas. Such ability to speak and understand under almost any circumstance is a real advantage.”

“I never thought of it that way,” Jondalar said. “When you taught the Mamutoi Lion Camp to ‘speak’ the Clan way with signs, so Rydag could communicate, everyone, particularly the youngsters, made a game of it, had fun giving each other signals. But when we got to the Summer Meeting, it became more serious when we were around everybody else but wanted to let someone from the Lion Camp know something privately. I remember one time in particular when Talut was telling the Lion Camp not to say something until later, because there were some people nearby whom he didn’t want to know. I don’t recall what it was now.”

“So, if I understand you correctly, you could say something in words, and at the same time say something else, or clarify some meaning privately, with these hand signs,” the One Who Was First said. She had stopped walking, and the frown of concentration indicated that she was thinking of something she felt was important.

“Yes, you could,” Ayla said.

“Would it be very difficult to learn this sign language?”

“It would be if you tried to learn it completely, with all of its shades of meaning,” Ayla said, “but I taught the Lion Camp a simplified version, the way children are taught at first.”

“But it was enough to communicate,” Jondalar said. “You could have a conversation … well, maybe not about the finer points of some intricate idea.”