After a while, Ayla saw the mother begin to respond to the young child's fearful sobs. Relona pushed herself away from the grave and, without even brushing herself off, took her daughter into her arms. The older one sat down and wrapped his arms around his mother's neck. She put an arm around him, too, and all three sat there crying together.

But the sound of these sobs seemed to have a different tone, Ayla thought, not so much of despair, but of mutual sadness and comfort. Then, at a signal from the First, the zelandonia and several others, including Ranokol, Shevonar's brother, helped them all up and led them away from the grave.

Ranokol's pain at the loss of his brother had been as great as Relona's, but he expressed it differently. He kept wondering why Shevonar had to make the sacrifice and not him. His brother had a family, and he didn't even have a mate. Ranokol couldn't stop thinking about it, but he didn't want to talk about it. He would have avoided the burial ceremony altogether if he could have, and throwing himself on the grave was the last thing he wanted to do. He just wanted to leave as soon as he could.

"We have returned Shevonar of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii to Your breast, Great Mother Earth," Zelandoni intoned.

All the people who had gathered together for the burial of Shevonar stood surrounding the grave, and Ayla sensed an anticipation. They were expecting something to happen and were focusing on the great donier. The drums and flutes had continued to play, but the sound had become part of the environment and Ayla hadn't noticed it until the tone of the music changed, and Zelandoni began to sing again, "Out of the darkness, the chaos of time,The whirlwind gave birth to the Mother sublime. She woke to Herself knowing life had great worth, The dark empty void grieved the Great Mother Earth."

The people responded in unison, some singing, some just saying the words.

"The Mother was lonely. She was the only."

Then the One Who Was First sang alone again.

"From the dust of Her birth She created the other, A pale shining friend, a companion, a brother. They grew up together, learned to love and to care, And when She was ready, they decided to pair."

And the people responded again, with the next line.

Around Her he'd hover. Her pale shining lover."

Ayla realized this was a familiar and understood story song that everyone knew and had been waiting for. She was already caught up in it and wanted to hear more. She listened while Zelandoni continued to sing the first part and the people responded with the last line.

"She was happy at first with Her one counterpart. Then the Mother grew restless, unsure in Her heart. She loved Her fair friend, Her dear complement, But something was missing, Her love was unspent.""She was the Mother. She needed another."

"She dared the great void, the chaos, the dark, To find the cold home of the life-giving spark. The whirlwind was fearsome, the darkness complete. Chaos was freezing, and reached out for Her heat.""The Mother was brave. The danger was grave."

"She drew from cold chaos the creative source,Then conceiving within, She fled with life-force. She grew with the life that She carried inside. And gave of Herself with love and with pride.""The Mother was bearing. Her life She was sharing."

"The dark empty void and the vast barren Earth, With anticipation, awaited the birth. Life drank from Her blood, it breathed from Her bones. It split Her skin open and sundered Her stones.""The Mother was giving. Another was living."

"Her gushing birth waters filled rivers and seas, And flooded the land, giving rise to the trees. From each precious drop more grass and leaves grew, And lush verdant plants made all the Earth new.""Her waters were flowing. New green was growing."

"In violent labor spewing fire and strife, She struggled in pain to give birth to new life. Her dried clotted blood turned to red-ochred soil, But the radiant child made it all worth the toil." "The Mother's great joy. A bright shining boy."

Ayla's breath caught in her throat when she heard those words. They seemed to tell the story of her and her son, Durc. She remembered struggling in pain to give birth to him and afterward, how it was all worth it. Durc had been her great joy. Zelandoni continued in her magnificent voice.

"Mountains rose up spouting flames from their crests, She nurtured Her son from Her mountainous breasts. He suckled so hard, the sparks flew so high, The Mother's hot milk laid a path through the sky.""His life had begun. She nourished Her son."

This story seems so familiar, Ayla thought. She shook her head as though trying to make something fall into place. Jondalar, he told me some of this on our Journey here.

"He laughed and he played, and he grew big and bright. He lit up the darkness, the Mother's delight. She lavished Her love, he grew bright and strong, But soon he matured, not a child for long.""Her son was near grown. His mind was his own."

"She took from the source for the life She'd begun. Now the cold empty void was enticing Her son. The Mother gave love, but the youth longed for more, For knowledge, excitement, to travel, explore." "Chaos was Her foe. But Her son yearned to go."

Ayla's mind kept nagging at her. It's not just Jondalar, she thought. I feel as if I know this, or at least the essence of it. But where could I have learned it? Then something clicked. Losaduna! I memorized all kinds of things he taught me! There was one story like this about the Mother. Jondalar even recited parts of it during that ceremony. It wasn't exactly the same, and it was in their language, but Losadunai is close to Zelandonii. That's why I was able to understand what they said so fast! As she listened, she concentrated on bringing the memory of the Mother's story back and began to feel a sense of the similarities and differences.

"He stole from Her side as the Great Mother slept, While out of the dark swirling void chaos crept. With tempting inducements the darkness beguiled. Deceived by the whirlwind, chaos captured Her child.""The dark took Her son. The young brilliant one."

"The Mother's bright child, at first overjoyed, Was soon overwhelmed by the bleak frigid void. Her unwary offspring, consumed with remorse, Could not escape the mysterious force.""Chaos would not free. Her rash progeny."

"But just as the dark pulled him into the cold, The Mother woke up, reached out and caught hold. To help Her recover Her radiant son, The Mother appealed to the pale shining one. " "The Mother held tight. And kept him in sight."

Ayla began to smile as she started anticipating the next verse, or at least the essential meaning of it. The Mother Earth tells Her old friend, the Moon, the story of what happened to Her son next, Ayla thought.

"She welcomed him back, Her lover of old, With heartache and sorrow, Her story She told. Her dear friend agreed to join in the fight, To rescue Her child from his perilous plight."

And now the listeners say it their way, Ayla said to herself. That's how the story is supposed to be told. First the Losaduna, or the Zelandoni, narrates it, then the listeners answer or repeat it another way.

"She told of Her grief. And the dark swirling thief. "

Then it's Zelandoni's turn again.

"The Mother was tired, She had to recover, She loosened Her hold to Her luminous lover. While She was sleeping, he fought the cold force, And for a time drove it back to the source.""His spirit was strong. The encounter too long."

"Her fair shining friend struggled hard, gave his best, The conflict was bitter, the battle hard pressed. His vigilance waned as he closed his great eye. Then darkness crept close, stole his light from the sky." "Her pale friend was tiring. His light was expiring. "

"When darkness was total, She woke with a cry. The tenebrious void hid the light from the sky. She joined in the conflict, was quick to defend, And drove the dark shadow away from Her friend." "But the pale face of night. Let Her son out of sight."

"Trapped by the whirlwind, Her bright fiery son, Gave no warmth to the Earth, cold chaos had won. The fertile green life was now ice and snow, And a sharp piercing wind continued to blow.""The Earth was bereft. No green plants were left."

"The Mother was weary, grieving and worn, But She reached out again for the life She had borne. She couldn't give up, She needed to strive, For the glorious light of Her son to survive.""She continued the fight. To bring back the light."

"And Her luminous friend was prepared to contest, The thief who held captive the child of Her breast. Together they fought for the son She adored. Their efforts succeeded, his light was restored.""His energy burned. His brilliance returned."

The Great Mother Earth and the Moon have brought the Sun back, but not all the way; Ayla was again anticipating.

"But the bleak frigid dark craved his bright glowing heat. The Mother defended and would not retreat. The whirlwind pulled hard, She refused to let go. She fought to a draw with Her dark swirling foe." "She held darkness at bay. But Her son was away. "

Was the Zelandonii version longer than the Losadunai story? Or did it just seem that way? Maybe singing the story makes it seem longer, but I really like the singing. I wish I understood it more. I think the songs change sometimes, the singing of some verses doesn't sound the same as other verses.

"When She fought the whirlwind and made chaos flee, The light from Her son glowed with vitality. When the Mother grew tired, the bleak void held sway, And darkness returned at the end of the day." "She felt warmth from Her son. But neither had won."

"The Great Mother lived with the pain in Her heart, That She and Her son were forever apart. She ached for the child that had been denied, So She quickened once more from the life-force inside." "She was not reconciled. To the loss of Her child."

"When She was ready, Her waters of birth, Brought back the green life to the cold barren Earth. And the tears of Her loss, abundantly spilled, Made dew drops that sparkled and rainbows that thrilled." "Birth waters brought green. But Her tears could be seen."

I really like this next part, but I wonder how Zelandoni will sing it, Ayla thought.

"With a thunderous roar Her stones split asunder, And from the great cave that opened deep under, She birthed once again from Her cavernous room, And brought forth the Children of Earth from Her womb." "From the Mother forlorn, more children were born."

"Each child was different, some were large and some small, Some could walk and some fly, some could swim and some crawl. But each form was perfect, each spirit complete, Each one was a model whose shape could repeat." "The Mother was willing. The green earth was filling."

"All the birds and the fish and the animals born, Would not leave the Mother, this time, to mourn. Each kind would live near the place of its birth, And share the expanse of the Great Mother Earth." "Close to Her they would stay. They could not run away."

"They all were Her children, they filled Her with pride, But they used up the life-force She carried inside. She had enough left for a last innovation, A child who'd remember Who made the creation." "A child who'd respect. And learn to protect."

"First Woman was born full-grown and alive, And given the Gifts she would need to survive. Life was the First Gift, and like Mother Earth, She woke to herself knowing life had great worth." "First Woman defined. The first of her kind."

"Next was the Gift of Perception, of learning, The desire to know, the Gift of Discerning. First Woman was given the knowledge within, That would help her to live, and pass on to her kin." "First Woman would know. How to learn, how to grow."

"Her life-force near gone, The Mother was spent, To pass on Life's Spirit had been Her intent. She caused all of Her children to create life anew, And Woman was blessed to bring forth life, too." "But Woman was lonely. She was the only."

"The Mother remembered Her own loneliness, The love of Her friend and his hovering caress. With the last spark remaining, Her labor began, To share life with Woman, She created First Man." "Again She was giving. One more was living."

"To Woman and Man the Mother gave birth, And then for their home, She gave them the Earth, The water, the land, and all Her creation. To use them with care was their obligation." "It was their home to use. But not to abuse."

"For the Children of Earth the Mother provided, The Gifts to survive, and then She decided, To give them the Gift of Pleasure and sharing,That honors the Mother with the joy of their pairing. " "The Gifts are well-earned. When honor's returned."

"The Mother was pleased with the pair She created, She taught them to love and to care when they mated. She made them desire to join with each other, The Gift of their Pleasures came from the Mother.""Before She was through. Her children loved too.""Earths Children were blessed. The Mother could rest."

Ayla waited for more, but when there was only silence, she realized the Mother's Song had come to an end.

People straggled back to their Caves in twos and threes. Some would not return to their homes until the middle of the night, some made plans to stay with friends or relatives. A few acolytes and Zelandonia remained behind at the gravesite, completing some of the more esoteric aspects of the ceremony, and would not be back until morning.

Several people went home with Relona and her children and stayed overnight in her dwelling, most sleeping on the floor. It was thought necessary for many people to surround her. The elans of deceased mates had been known to try to return to their homes before they understood that they no longer belonged to this world. The grieving mates were susceptible to invasion by the roaming spirits and needed the protection of many people to ward off malign influences. Older people in particular were sometimes tempted to follow their mates' elans to the next world shortly after one of them died. Fortunately, Relona was young yet and had young children who needed her.

Ayla was one of those who stayed with the new widow, and Relona seemed pleased that she did. Jondalar had planned to stay as well, but by the time he completed the last of his ceremonial duties, it was quite late, and when he looked inside the dwelling, there were so many people sprawled out, he couldn't see any room to squeeze in his large frame. Ayla waved at him from the other side of the room. Wolf was with her, and probably because of him, she had a little more room around her, but when he tried to step around people to reach her, he woke a few up. Marthona, who was closer to the entrance, told him to go home. He felt a bit guilty about it, but was grateful. Overnight vigils to ward off wandering spirits were not something he enjoyed. Besides, he'd had enough dealings with the spirit world for one day, and he was tired. He missed having Ayla beside him when he crawled into his sleeping roll, but he fell asleep quickly.

When she returned to the Ninth Cave, the One Who Was First went immediately into her dwelling. She would soon be making another Journey to the next world and wanted to meditate, to prepare for it. She took off her chest plaque and turned it around to the plain undecorated side. She did not want any interruptions. She would not only try to guide Shevonar's spirit to the world beyond, she planned to search for the elan of Thonolan as well, but for that she would need both Jondalar and Ayla.

Jondalar awoke with a strong urge to make some tools. Although he might not have expressed it as such, he was still feeling uneasy about all the arcane events he'd recently been involved with. Flint-knapping was not only his craft, it was something he enjoyed, and getting his hands on a solid piece of stone was a good way to forget about the ambiguous, intangible, and vaguely ominous spirit world.

He took out the pack of flint that he had quarried from the Lanzadoni flint mine. Dalanar had looked over the material that Jondalar had extracted from the outcrop, which contained the superior-quality flint that the Lanzadoni were known for. He made specific suggestions regarding what pieces to take with him and helped him trim away excess material, so that all he'd had to carry with him were workable blanks and cores. Horses could carry a great deal more than people, but flint was heavy. There was a limit to the amount of stone that could be taken, but when he examined the flint he had, he appreciated again just how fine it was.

He selected two of the trimmed stones and put the others back, then brought out his leather bundle of flint-working tools. He untied the cords and laid out several bone and antler hammers and retouchers, and his hammerstones, then picked up each tool and inspected it carefully. Then he wrapped them back up, along with the flint cores. By midmorning he was ready to find a place to work his flint, somewhat out of the way. Chips of flint were very sharp and could be quite erratic in the way they flew. Serious workers of the stone always chose to stay away from the areas where people regularly walked, especially away from the bare feet of running children and their often harried mothers or distracted caretakers.

Pushing aside the entrance drape, Jondalar walked out of his mother's dwelling. Looking toward the ledge, he noticed that the sky was overcast and gray. A dreary drizzle kept almost everyone under the rock shelter, and the large open area near the dwellings was in full use. There were no particular times for pursuing individual crafts and interests, but it was the kind of day that many chose to work on their various projects. Windbreaks of panels, or hides strung over cords, were put up to keep out wind and any rain it might blow in, and several fires provided additional light and warmth, though cold drafts made warm clothes essential.

He smiled when he saw Ayla coming toward him. When they met, he greeted her with a touching of cheeks and noticed her womanly scent. It made him remember that he hadn't slept with her the night before. He felt a sudden desire to take her back to bed and do more than sleep.

"I was just going to Marthona's to look for you," she said.

"I woke up with an urge to work the stone I got from Dalanar's flint mine, to make some new tools," he said, holding up his familiar leather bundle. "But it looks like everyone wanted to work on something this morning." He glanced toward the crowded and busy work space. "I don't think I'll stay here."

"Where will you go to work?" Ayla asked. "I thought I'd see to the horses, but I might come by later and watch."

"I think I'll go Down River. There are usually a lot of toolmakers there," he said. Then, thinking about it, he added, "Do you want me to help you with the horses?"

"Not unless you want to," Ayla said. "I'm just going to check on them. I don't think I'll ride today, but I may take Folara with me and see if she wants to try sitting on Whinney. I told her she could sometime, and she said she'd like to."

"It might be fun to see how she does, but I really would like to work on some tools today," Jondalar said.

They walked together as far as the working area, then Jondalar went on toward Down River, while Ayla and the wolf stopped to look for Folara. The drizzle had turned to a steady rain, and while she waited for it to let up, she found herself watching first one person and then another as they worked on their various projects. She had always been fascinated with different crafts and skills and was easily distracted. It was a busy but relaxed atmosphere. Certain aspects of every craft required intense concentration, but repetitive elements allowed time to chat and visit. Most people were pleased to answer her questions, show her their techniques, and explain their methods.

When Ayla saw Folara, she was in the middle of stringing a loom with Marthona and not able to come to a good stopping place easily, though she would have liked to go. Ayla wouldn't have minded staying to see how the stringing was done, but she felt the horses needed attention. She promised Folara they would visit the horses another time, and when the rain let up, she decided to go out before it started again.

Whinney and Racer were in fine fettle and delighted to see her and Wolf when she found them, quite a distance back in Wood River Valley. They had discovered a small green meadow in the middle of the forested glen, with a clear spring that had formed a pond and a place under some trees to stand when it rained. The red deer that were sharing it with them broke away at the sight of the woman and the wolf at the same time that the horses neighed and ran toward them.

Those deer have been hunted, Ayla thought. They might have stopped and eyed Wolf, but it's not likely that full-grown deer in their prime would run from a single wolf. The wind is taking my scent right to them, and I think they have found more to fear from human hunters.

The sun had come out, and she found some of the previous year's dried flower heads of teasel and used the prickly herb top to curry the horses' coats. When she was done, she noticed Wolf stalking. She reached for her sling, which was tucked into her waist thong, and a pebble from the rocky edge of the pond, and when he scared up a couple of hares, she got one of the large rabbits with her first try. She let Wolf get the other.

A cloud cast a shadow over the sun. She looked up and noticed the placement of the sun in the sky, and realized that the time had passed quickly. Things had been so busy the past few days, she felt good having no demands on her or her time. But when it started to sprinkle, she decided to ride Whinney back to the Ninth Cave. Racer and Wolf followed. She was glad she had when the rain came down in earnest just as she arrived at the shelter. She led the horses up to the stone front porch and walked them past the living area and down toward the more unused area.

She passed by some men sitting around a fire, and though she didn't recognize the game, from their actions, she guessed they were gambling. They stopped and watched her as she walked by. She thought they were very rude to stare at her the way they did, ands he made a point of showing better manners by avoiding looking at them. But she did have the Clan woman's skill of glancing unobtrusively yet taking in a great deal of information with quick glimpses. She noticed that they were making comments to each other, and she thought she smelled barma.

Farther on, she saw some people in various stages of curing hides, both bison and deer. They probably found the usual work area too crowded, too, she thought. She brought the horses almost to the end of the ledge, near the small stream that separated the Ninth Cave from Down River, and thought that it could be a good place to build a shelter for them before winter. She'd have to talk to Jondalar about it. Then she showed them the trail that led down to the bank of The River and left them to see what they would decide to do. Wolf decided to go with the horses when they started down the trail. Raining or not, they preferred grazing near The River to staying up on the barren ledge just to keep dry.

She thought about going on to see Jondalar, then changed her mind and went back to where they were working on hides. People were glad for an excuse to take a break, and for some of them to talk to the woman that a wolf followed and from whom horses didn't run away. She noticed that Portula was there. The young woman smiled at Ayla, still trying to make friends. She seemed genuinely sorry for her part in Marona's trick.

Ayla had been wanting to make some clothing for Jondalar, herself, and the expected baby, and remembered that she had killed a young giant deer buck. She wondered where it was, but while she was here she decided she could at least skin the hare that was hanging from her waist thong to make something for the baby.

"If there's room, I'd like to skin this hare quickly," Ayla said to the group in general.

"There's plenty of room," Portula said. "And I'd be glad to let you use some of my tools, if you need them."

"I would, Portula, thank you for offering. I do have many tools, I live with Jondalar, after all," Ayla said with a wry smile. Several people smiled back knowingly. "But I don't have them with me."

Ayla liked the feeling of having people around her all busily engaged in tasks at which they were skilled. What a difference from the lonely days in her cave in the valley. This was more like her childhood in Brun's clan with everyone working together.

She quickly gutted and skinned the hare, then asked, "Do you mind if I leave these here for now? I need to go Down River. I'll pick them up on my way back."

"I'll watch them," Portula said. "If you want, I'll take them back with me when I go, if you're not back yet."

"That would be very nice of you," Ayla said. She was warming to the young woman, who was obviously trying hard to be friendly. "I'll be back later," Ayla said as she left.

After she walked up the log bridge that crossed the creek, she saw Jondalar with several others under the shelter of the first abri. The place had obviously been used to knap flint for a long time. The ground was thick with the sharp-edged chips and flakes left from the process of knapping flint. It would not be wise to walk there with bare feet.

"There you are," Jondalar said. "We were just getting ready to go back. Joharran was here and said Proleva has organized a meal using meat from one of the bison. She does that so well and so often, people are going to get too used to it, I'm afraid. But everybody has been busy today, and she decided it would be easier. You can walk back with us, Ayla."

"I didn't realize it was so close to midday," she said. As they started toward the Ninth Cave, Ayla saw Joharran ahead of them. She hadn't seen him coming this way. He must have passed by me when I was talking to Portula and the others, and skinning that hare, she thought. She noticed him heading toward the rude men who were sitting around the fire.

Joharran had seen Laramar and some others, gambling, when he was hurrying to tell the craftspeople at Down River about the meal that Proleva had arranged. He recalled thinking how lazy they were, gaming while everyone else was busy, probably using wood someone else had collected, but when he saw them on the way back, he decided he ought to tell them, too. They were members of the Ninth Cave, even if they didn't contribute much.

The men were deep in conversation when he approached and didn't see him coming. As he drew near, he overheard one of them saying, "' What can you expect from someone who says she learned how to heal from flatheads? What can those animals know about healing?"

"That woman is no healer. Shevonar died, didn't he?" Laramar agreed.

"You weren't there, Laramar!" Joharran interrupted, trying to keep his temper under control. "As usual, you couldn't be bothered to join the hunt."

"I was sick," the man said defensively.

"Sick from your own barma," Joharran said. "I'm telling you, no one could have saved Shevonar. Not Zelandoni, not the most skilled healer that ever lived. He had been trampled by a bison. What man can bear the full weight of a bison? If it hadn't been for Ayla, I doubt that he would have survived until Relona arrived. She found a way to ease his pain. Ayla did as much as anyone could. Why are you spreading malicious rumors about her? What has she ever done to you?" They stopped talking when Ayla and Jondalar and several others walked past.

"Why are you sneaking around listening to private conversations?" Laramar countered, still defensive.

"Walking up to you in full daylight is hardly sneaking, Laramar. I came here to tell you that Proleva and some of the others have prepared some food for everyone, so you could share it," Joharran answered. "What I heard was said out loud. I couldn't exactly close my ears." Then he directed his comments to the others. "Zelandoni is convinced that Ayla is a good healer, why not give her a chance? We should be glad to welcome a person with such good skills, you never know when you might need them yourselves. Now, why don't you all come and eat?" The leader looked at each man directly, letting them know that he recognized and would remember each one, then he walked away.

The tight little group broke up and followed him toward the other end of the ledge. Some of them agreed with Joharran, at least as far as giving Ayla a chance to prove herself, but a few didn't want to or could not overcome their prejudice. Laramar, though he had been agreeable with the man who had been talking loudly against her, really didn't care one way or the other. He tended to go along with whatever way was easiest.

As Ayla walked with the group from Down River toward the work area, staying under the protective overhanging shelf when it started raining harder again, she thought about all the different talents and abilities that people enjoyed exercising to occupy themselves. Many people liked to make things, although the choice of materials they worked with were quite varied. Some, like Jondalar, liked to work with flint to craft tools and hunting weapons, some liked working with wood, or ivory, or bone, some liked working with fibers, or hides. It came to her that some, like Joharran, enjoyed working with people.

As they got closer and her nose detected wonderful cooking odors, Ayla realized that cooking and working with food was also a task some people enjoyed. Proleva's penchant for organizing community gatherings was obviously something she enjoyed, which was probably the reason for this impromptu feast. Ayla thought about herself and what she liked to do best. She was interested in many things and enjoyed learning how to do things she had never done before, but more than anything else, she loved being a medicine woman, a healer.

The meal was being served near the large area where people were working on their projects, but as they approached, Ayla noticed that an adjacent area was being set up for a task that may not have been quite as enjoyable but needed to be done. Several nets for drying the meat they had hunted had been stretched out a couple of feet above the ground between upright posts. There was a layer of soil on the stone surface of the abri and its front porch, shallow in some areas, but deep enough to support posts in others. Some uprights were permanently wedged into cracks in the stone or supported by post holes dug into the soil. Piles of rocks were often added for additional bracing.

Other similar constructions, obviously made for the same purpose, were simply pegged and lashed together, making them essentially portable food drying racks. They could be lifted up and leaned against the back wall to get them out of the way when not in use. But when meat or vegetables needed to be dried, the portable frames could be placed anywhere on the floor they wanted. Occasionally meat was dried for preservation near the place it was killed, or on the grassy floodplain below, but when it rained, or just because people wanted to work closer to their homes, they developed ways to support drying cords or netting.

A few small tongue-shaped pieces of meat were already hanging on the drying racks, and small, rather smoky fires were burning nearby, to keep away insects and incidentally to add a flavor to the meat. Ayla thought that after they ate she would offer her help to cut up the meat to dry. She and Jondalar had just selected their food and were deciding where to eat when she saw Joharran stalking toward them with a rapid stride and a grim expression.

"Jondalar, does Joharran seem angry to you?" she asked.

The tall man turned to look at his approaching brother. "I think so," he said. "I wonder what happened?" He would ask later, he thought.

They glanced at each other, then strolled over to join Joharran, Proleva, her son, Jaradal, Marthona, and Willamar. They were greeted warmly, and a place was made for them. It did seem obvious that the leader was not happy about something, but he did not seem to want to talk about it, at least not with them. They all smiled in welcome when Zelandoni decided to join them, too. She had spent the morning in her dwelling, but came out when people gathered to eat.

"Can I get you something?" Proleva asked.

"I have been fasting and meditating today, preparing myself to search, and still limiting my food," Zelandoni said, and looked at Jondalar in a way that made him very uncomfortable. He was suddenly afraid that his association with other worlds was not over yet. "Mejera is getting something for me. I asked Folara to help her. Mejera is an acolyte of Zelandoni of the Fourteenth Cave, but she is not happy with her and wants to come here with me, to be my acolyte. I have to consider it, and of course, ask if you would be willing to accept her into the Ninth Cave, Joharran. She's quite shy and diffident, but definitely has some ability. I wouldn't mind training her, but you know I have to be particularly careful with the Fourteenth," Zelandoni said, then she looked at Ayla.

"She was expecting to be selected the First," the donier explained, "but the zelandonia chose me instead. She tried to stand up to me and force me to step down. It was my first real challenge, and even though she was the one who backed down, I don't think she has ever really accepted their choice, or forgiven me."

She addressed everyone again. "I know she will accuse me of luring her best acolyte away if I accept Mejera, but I have to consider what is right for everybody. If Mejera isn't getting the training she should have to develop her talents, I can't worry about someone's hurt feelings. On the other hand, if one of the other Zelandonia would be willing to train her and can form a bond with her, perhaps I can avoid another confrontation with the Fourteenth. I'd like to wait until after the Summer Meeting before making a decision."

"That seems wise," Marthona said just as Mejera and Folara joined them. The young acolyte was holding two bowls, and Jondalar's younger sister carried her bowl plus a waterbag. She had put some eating implements in her carrying pouch. Mejera gave a bowl of clear broth to the First, glanced gratefully at Folara, smiled timidly at Ayla and Jondalar, and then looked down at her food.

There was a moment of uneasy silence, then Zelandoni spoke. "I don't know how many of you know Mejera."

"I know your mother, and the man of your hearth," Willamar said. "You have some siblings, don't you?"

"Yes, a sister and a brother," Mejera said.

"How old are they?"

"My sister is a little younger than me, and my brother is about his age," Mejera said, indicating Proleva's son.

"My name is Jaradal. I am Jaradal of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii. Who are you?"

He said it with such careful precision, as he had obviously been taught, everyone had to smile, including the young woman. "I am Mejera of the Fourteenth Cave of the Zelandonii. I greet you, Jaradal of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii."

Jaradal smiled with self-importance. She obviously understands boys his age, Ayla thought.

"We are remiss. I think we should all make proper introductions," Willamar said. The introductions were made, and everyone greeted the shy young woman warmly.

"Did you know the mate of your mother wanted to be a trader before he met her, Mejera?" Willamar said. "He went on a few trips with me, then he decided he didn't want to spend so much time away from her, or you, after you were born."

"No, I didn't know that," she said, pleased to learn something about her mother and her mother's mate.

No wonder he's a good trader, Ayla thought. He has a way with people. He can make anyone feel comfortable. Mejera seemed a little more relaxed, but still a bit overwhelmed by all the attention. Ayla understood how she felt.

"Proleva, I saw some people starting to dry meat from the hunt," Ayla said. "I'm not sure how meat is divided, or who is supposed to preserve it, but I'd like to help if it's appropriate."

The woman smiled. "Of course you can help, if you want. It's a lot of work, we'd welcome your help."

"I know I would," Folara said. "It can be a long, tedious job, unless there are a lot of people working on it. Then it can be fun."

. "The meat itself and half the fat is for everyone to use as theyn eed," Proleva continued, "but the rest of the animal, the hide, horns, antlers, and all, belongs to the person who killed it. I think you and Jondalar each have a megaceros and a bison, Ayla. Jondalar killed the bison who sacrificed Shevonar, but that one was given back to the Mother. We buried it near his grave. The leaders decided to give both Jondalar and you another one. Animals are marked when they're butchered, usually with charcoal. By the way, they didn't know your abelan, and you were busy with Shevonar, so someone asked Zelandoni of the Third. He made a temporary one for you so your hides and other parts could be marked."

Jondalar smiled. "What does it look like?" He was always conscious of his own enigmatic abelan and curious about the name marks of others.

"I think he saw you as protective or sheltering, Ayla," Proleva said. "Here, I'll show you." She took a stick, smoothed the dirt, and drew a line straight down. Then she added a line starting near the top and slanting down somewhat on one side, and a third line matching it on the other side. "It reminds me of a tent or shelter of some kind, something to get under if it was raining."

"I think you're right," Jondalar said. "It's not a bad abelan for you, Ayla. You do tend to be protective and helpful, especially if someone is sick or hurt."

"I can draw my abelan," Jaradal said. Everyone smiled indulgently. The stick was given to him, and he was allowed to make the drawing. "Do you have one?" he said to Mejera.

"I'm sure she does, Jaradal, and she will probably be happy to show you. Later," Proleva said, gently reprimanding her son. A little attention was all right, but she didn't want him to get in the habit of demanding attention from the adults around him.

"What do you think of your abelan, Ayla?" Jondalar said. He wondered about her reaction to being assigned a Zelandonii symbol.

"Since I didn't get an elandon with an abelan marked on it when I was born, at least not that I can remember," Ayla said, "it's as good a mark as any. I don't mind using it as my abelan."

"Did you ever get any kind of mark from the Mamutoi?" Proleva asked, wondering if Ayla already had an abelan. It was always interesting to learn how other people did things.

"When I was adopted by the Mamutoi, Talut cut a mark on my arm to draw blood so he could make a mark with it on the plaque he wore on his chest during ceremonies," Ayla said.

"But it wasn't a special mark?" Joharran said.

"It was special to me. I still have the scar," she said, showing the mark on her arm. Then she added a thought that occurred to her: "It's interesting how people use different ways of showing who they are, and who they belong to. When I was adopted by the Clan, I was given my amulet bag with a piece of red ochre in it, and when they name a person, the mog-ur makes a line in red from the forehead to the end of the nose. That's when he tells everyone, especially the mother, what the baby's totem is, by making the totem mark with salve on the infant."

"Are you saying your people of the Clan have marks showing who they are?" Zelandoni said. "Like abelans?"

"I guess they are like abelans. When a boy becomes a man, the mog-ur cuts the mark of his totem on him, then rubs in a special ash to make it a tattoo. Girls are not usually cut on the skin, because when they grow up, they will bleed from the inside, but I was marked by the cave lion when he chose me. I have a four marks from his claws on my leg. That's the Clan mark for a cave lion, and that's how Mog-ur knew he was my totem, even though it's not usually a female totem mark. It is a man's, given to a boy who is destined to be a strong hunter. When I was accepted as the Woman Who Hunts, Mog-ur made a cut here," she put her finger on her throat, just above the breastbone, "to draw blood and used it to mark over the scars on my leg." She showed the scars on her left thigh.

"Then you already have an abelan. That's your mark, those four lines," Willamar said.

"I think you are right," Ayla said. "I don't feel anything about the other mark, maybe because it's just a mark of convenience, so that people will know who to give some hides to. Even though my Clan totem mark is not a Zelandonii sign, it is a mark that is special to me. It meant that I was adopted, that I belonged. I would like to use it as my abelan."

Jondalar thought about what Ayla said about belonging. She had lost everything, she didn't know to whom she was born, or who her people were. Then she had lost the people who raised her. She had referred to herself as "Ayla of No People" when she'd met the Mamutoi. It made him realize how important belonging was to her.

Chapter 17

There was an insistent tap on the panel beside the entrance drape. It woke Jondalar, but he lay in his sleeping roll, wondering why someone wasn't answering it. Then he realized that no one but him seemed to be home. He got up and called out, "Be there in a moment," while he was putting on a few clothes. He was surprised to see Jonokol, the artist who was Zelandoni's acolyte, only because the young man seldom paid a visit without his mentor. "Come in," he said'

"The Zelandoni of the Ninth Cave says it is time," Jonokol said.

Jondalar's brow creased. He didn't like the sound of that. He wasn't entirely sure he understood what Jonokol meant, but he had a good idea, and he wasn't looking forward to it. He'd had his share of the other world. He didn't really want to have to deal with that place again.

"Did Zelandoni say what it was time for?" Jondalar asked.

Jonokol smiled at the tall man's sudden nervousness. "She said you would know."

"I'm afraid I do," Jondalar said, resigning himself to the inevitable. "Can you wait until I find something to eat, Jonokol?"

"Zelandoni always says it's best if you don't."

"I suppose you're right," Jondalar said. "But I wouldn't mind a cup of tea to wash my mouth out with. I'm still tasting sleep."

"They may have some tea for you to drink," Jonokol said.

"I'll bet they do, but I don't think it's mint, and that's what I like first thing in the morning."

"Zelandoni's teas are often flavored with mint."

"Flavored, yes, but it's probably not the main ingredient."

Jonokol just smiled.

"All right," Jondalar said with a wry grin. "I'll come right away. I hope no one minds if I go to pass water first."

"It's not necessary to hold your water," the young acolyte said, "but bring something warm to wear."

When Jondalar came back, he was both surprised and pleased to see Ayla waiting with Jonokol, tying the sleeves of a warm tunic around her waist. Jonokol had probably told her to bring something warm, too. Watching her, it occurred to him that the night before last was the first time he had not slept with Ayla since he was captured by the S'Armunai on their Journey, and it left him feeling rather unsettled.

"Hello, woman," he whispered in her ear when he rubbed her cheek with his in greeting, then embraced her. "Where did you go this morning?"

"To empty the night basket," Ayla said. "When I came back I saw Jonokol and he said Zelandoni wanted us, so I went to ask Folara if she would keep Wolf. She said she'd find some children to keep him occupied. I went down to check on the horses earlier. I heard some other horses nearby. I wonder if we should build a surround of some kind to keep them."

"Perhaps," Jondalar said. "Especially when it's time for Whinney's Pleasures. I'd hate to have a herd try to capture her, Racer would probably try to follow her."

"She'll have her foal first," Ayla said.

Jonokol listened, interested in hearing about the horses. They had obviously gained knowledge in their association with them. Ayla and Jondalar left with Jonokol. When they reached the stone front porch of the Ninth Cave, Jondalar noticed that the sun was quite high.

"I didn't know it was so late," he said. "I wonder why someone didn't get me up sooner?"

"Zelandoni suggested that you be allowed to sleep since you may be up late tonight," Jonokol said.

Jondalar took a deep breath and blew it out of his mouth as he shook his head. "Where are we going, by the way?" he said as they walked beside the acolyte along the ledge toward Down River.

"To Fountain Rocks," Jonokol said.

Jondalar's eyes opened wide with surprise. Fountain Rocks a cliff that featured two caves and the immediate area around it was not the home of any particular Cave of Zelandonii; it was much more important than that. It was one of the most sacred places in the entire region. Though no one lived there regularly, if any group could call it home, it was the zelandonia, the Ones Who Served, for this was a place blessed and sanctified by the Great Earth Mother Herself.

"I am going to stop for a drink of water," Jondalar said emphatically as they approached the bridge over the creek of fresh spring water that divided the Ninth Cave from Down River. He wasn't going to let Jonokol talk him out of quenching his thirst, even if he had let the man dissuade him from having his morning cup of mint tea.

Near the streamlet a few feet from the bridge, a post had been pounded into the ground. A drinking cup made of cattail leaves torn into strips and woven watertight was attached to it with a cord; if it wasn't attached, it was often lost. The cup was changed periodically as it became worn, but as long as Jondalar could remember, one had been there. It had been learned long ago that the sight of the fresh sparkling water invariably inspired thirst, and while a person could bend over and reach in with hands to get a drink, it was much easier to have a cup handy.

They all had a drink, then continued along the well-used trail. They forded The River at the Crossing, and at Two Rivers Rock turned into Grass Valley, crossed the second river, then followed the path alongside it. People from other Caves waved and greeted them as they passed by, but made no attempt to delay them. All the zelandonia of the area, including the acolytes, had already gone to Fountain Rocks, and everyone had a good idea where the two people with Zelandoni's acolyte were going.

They also had some idea why. In the tight-knit community, word had gotten out that they had brought back something that might help the zelandonia to find the wandering spirit of Jondalar's dead brother, Thonolan. Though they knew it was important to help guide a newly liberated elan to its proper place in the world of the spirits, the idea of entering the next world before they were called by the Mother was not something most people wanted to do. It was fearful enough to think about helping Shevonar's elan, who had just passed on and was probably nearby, but to look for the spirit of someone who had died far away and a long time ago was something they didn't even want to contemplate.

Not many, except for the zelandonia and not all of those would have wanted to trade places with Jondalar or Ayla. Most people were happy to let the Ones Who Served The Mother deal with the world of the spirits. But no one else could do it; only they knew where Jondalar's brother had died. Even the One Who Was First knew this would be an exhausting day, though she was intrigued and wondered if they would be able to find Thonolan's roving spirit.

As Ayla, Jondalar, and Jonokol continued upstream, an imposing outcrop of rock loomed ahead on the left. The massive rock stood out with such prominence that it seemed almost a monolith, but a closer look revealed that it was only the first spur of a progression of cliffs that pulled back in a line at right angles to Grass River. The stately stone at the head of the cliffs reared up from the valley floor, rounded to a bulge in the middle, narrowed toward the top, then abruptly flared out into a flat-topped jaunty cap.

Moving around to the front and looking straight on at the rock that extended out ahead, one could, with a little imagination, envision in the cracks and rounded shapes, the cap as hair, a high forehead below the cap, a flattened nose, and two nearly closed eyes enigmatically looking over a slope of scree and brush. To those who knew how to look, the subtly anthropomorphic front view was understood to be a hidden face of the Mother, one of the few visages of Herself She ever chose to show, and even that was well disguised. No one could ever look directly upon the face of the Mother, not so much as a likeness of it, and even mysteriously disguised, Her face held unspeakable power.

The row of cliffs flanked a smaller valley with a creek down the middle that ran into Grass River. The source of the small stream was a spring that bubbled out of the ground with such energy, it created a small fountain with a deep pool surrounding it in the middle of a wooded glen. The common name was Fountain of the Deep, and the small waterway running from it was called Fountain Creek, but the zelandonia had other names for them, which most people also knew. The spring and pool were the Birth Waters of the Mother, and the creek was the Blessed Water. They were known to have great powers to heal and particularly to help women conceive, if used correctly.

A path over twelve hundred feet long climbed up the side of the stone wall well beyond the leading spur to a terrace not far from the top, with a small rock overhang that sheltered the mouths of two caves. The numerous cavities in this region of limestone cliffs were sometimes called "caves," but were thought of as hollowed-out spaces in the rock and often referred to as "hollows" as well. Conversely, an especially long or deep cave was sometimes referred to as a "deep." The opening to the left on the small terrace penetrated the rock only twenty feet or so, and was used as a living space for those who stayed there from time to time, usually zelandonia. It was generally known as Fountain Hollow, but some referred to it as Doni's Hollow.

The cave on the right led to a deep passage that went four hundred feet into the heart of the huge cliff, with chambers, alcoves, niches, and other passages leading off the main corridor. This was the place that was so sacred that its esoteric name was usually not even voiced. The site was so well-known, and so revered, it wasn't necessary to declare its sanctity and power to the mundane world. If anything, those who knew its true meaning preferred to understate it, not make an issue of it in ordinary existence. That was the reason people referred to the cliffs simply as Fountain Rocks, and why the cave was called the Deep Cave in Fountain Rocks or, sometimes, Doni's Deep.

It was not the only sacred site in the region. Most caves had some measure of sanctity attached to them, and some places outside of caves were also blessed, but the deep cave in Fountain Rocks was one of the most exalted. Jondalar knew of a few others that equaled Fountain Rocks, but none was more important. As they continued up the cliff with Jonokol, Jondalar felt a combination of excitement and dread and, as they approached the terrace, a frisson of fearful anticipation. This wasn't something he really wanted to do, but for all his apprehension, he did wonder if Zelandoni could find the free spirit of his brother, what would be expected of him, and how it would feel.

When they reached the high terrace in front of the caves, two more acolytes met them, a man and a woman. They had been waiting just inside the mouth of the deep cave on the right. Ayla paused for a moment and turned around to see where she had come from. The lofty stone porch overlooked Fountain Creek Valley and part of Grass Valley with its river, and the panorama was impressive, but somehow, when they entered the passage, the closer views within the dark cavity were more daunting.

Especially in daytime, stepping into the cave brought an immediate transformation, a shift in perspective from an open, expansive view to a close, narrow corridor, from stone-reflecting sunlight to disquieting dark. The change went beyond the physical or external. Especially to those who understood and accepted the inherent power of the place, it was a metamorphosis that went from easy familiarity to apprehensive fear, but also a transition into something rich and wondrous.

Only a few feet of the ingress could be seen from the light outside, but as eyes became accustomed to the diminished light at the entry, the rock walls of the constricted passage suggested the way into the shadowy interior. A small vestibule just beyond the opening held a lighted stone lamp resting on a projecting piece of the wall, and several unlit lamps. In a natural stone niche below it were torches. Jonokol and the other young man picked up a lamp, then a thin, dry stick, which they held to the flame of the burning lamp until it ignited. With it, they each lit the moss wicks that were resting against the edge of the bowl of a lamp, opposite the handle, soaking in the slightly congealed fat. The woman lit a torch and beckoned to them.

"Watch your footing," she said, holding the torch lower to show the uneven floor and the wet, glistening clay that filled in some of the spaces between the rocks that were jutting up. "It can be slippery."

When they started into the passage, picking their way carefully across the uneven floor, there was still a suggestion of light from the outside. It diminished quickly. After something more than a hundred feet the darkness was complete, held back only by the soft glow of small flames. A sigh of moving air strayed down from the stalactites suspended from the ceiling, bringing a chill of fear as the tiny lights of the lamps flickered. They knew that once into the depths, if the fire went out, a blackness more complete than the darkest night would obscure all vision. Only hands and feet on cold, damp rock could show the way, and might lead only to a dead-end passage rather than the way out.

A deeper black on the right, no longer reflecting the small flames off damp stone walls, indicated that the distance to that side had increased; perhaps a niche or another passageway. Behind them and ahead, the tenebrious gloom was palpable, the blackness almost suffocatingly thick. The wisp of air was the only manifestation of a corridor that led back to the outside. Ayla wished she could reach for Jondalar's hand.

As they proceeded, the lamps the acolytes carried were not the only light. Several shallow, bowl-shaped stone lamps had been placed on the floor at intervals along the dark corridor, casting a light that seemed amazingly bright in the darkness within the cave. A couple of them were sputtering, however. They either needed more fat to melt into the bowl or a new moss wick, and Ayla hoped someone would tend to them soon.

But the lamps gave Ayla an eerie sense that she had been in this place before, and an irrational fear that she would be again. She didn't want to follow the woman in front of her. She had not thought of herself as one who feared caves, but there was something about this one that made her want to turn around and run, or touch Jondalar for reassurance. Then she remembered walking the dark corridor of another cave, following the small fires of lamps and torches, and finding herself watching Creb and the other mog-urs. She shivered at the memory and suddenly realized that she was cold.

"You might want to stop and put on your warm clothing," the woman in front said, turning back and holding up the lamp for Ayla and Jondalar. "It's rather cold deep in a cave, especially in summer. In winter, when it's snowy and icy outside, it actually feels rather warm. The deep caves stay the same all year."

The stop for something as ordinary as putting on her long-sleeved tunic had steadied Ayla. Although she had been ready to turn around and run out of the cave, when the acolyte started walking again, Ayla took a deep breath and followed her.

Although the long passageway had seemed narrow and the temperature had become progressively colder, after another fifty feet the rocky corridor closed in even more. A greater humidity in the air was verified by a sheen of moisture reflected off the walls, the stalactite icicles projecting down from the ceiling, and their stalagmitic mates growing up from the floor. At slightly more than two hundred feet into the dark, damp, and chilly cave, the floor of the passageway ascended, not blocking the way, but making it difficult to proceed. It was tempting to turn back here, to think this was far enough, and many a faint-heart had. It tested determination to continue beyond this point.

Holding the torch, the woman in front climbed up the rocky incline to a small, constricted opening higher up. Ayla watched the wavering light as she climbed, then breathed deeply and started up over sharp stones until she reached the woman. She followed her through a narrow aperture, scrambling over more rocks to get through the opening that descended into the heart of the stone cliff.

The nearly subliminal passage of air in the first section was noticeable now only for its lack. After the confined gap, no movement of air could be detected at all. The first indication that someone had come this way before was three red dots painted on the left-hand wall. Not long afterward, Ayla saw something else in the flickering light of the torch the woman in front held. She couldn't quite believe her eyes and wished the acolyte would stop for a moment and hold the light closer to the left wall. She stopped and waited for the tall man behind her to catch up.

"Jondalar," she said in a quiet voice, "I think there is a mammoth on that wall!"

"Yes, there is, more than one," Jondalar said. "I think if there wasn't something that Zelandoni felt was more important to do right now, this cave would be shown to you with the proper ceremony. Most of us were brought in here when we were children. Not young children, old enough to understand, but still children. It's frightening, but wonderful, when you see this place for the first time, if it's done right. Even when you know it's all part of the ceremony, it's exciting."

"Why are we here, Jondalar?" she asked. "What is so important?"

The acolyte in front had turned around and come back when she noticed that she wasn't being followed anymore.

"Didn't anyone tell you?" she said.

"Jonokol just said Zelandoni wanted Jondalar and me," she said.

"I'm not absolutely certain," Jondalar said, "but I think we're here to help Zelandoni locate Thonolan's spirit and, if he needs it, to help him find his way. We're the only ones who saw the place where he died, and with the stone you wanted me to pick up Zelandoni said that was a very good idea, by the way she thinks we may," Jondalar said.

"What is this place?" Ayla asked.

"It has many names," the woman said. Jonokol and the other acolyte had caught up with them. "Most people refer to it as the Deep Cave in Fountain Rocks, or sometimes Doni's Deep. The zelandonia know its sacred name, and most people do, too, though it is seldom mentioned. This is the Entrance to the Womb of the Mother, or one of them. There are several others that are just as sacred."

"Everyone knows, of course, that entrance implies exit," Jonokol added. "That means the entrance to the womb is also the birth canal."

"So that means this is one of the birth canals of the Great Earth Mother," the young male acolyte said.

"Like the song Zelandoni sang at Shevonar's burial, this must be one of the places from which the Mother 'brought forth the Children of Earth,'" Ayla said.

"She understands," the woman said, nodding toward the other two acolytes. "You must know the Mother's Song well," she said to Ayla.

"The first time she heard it was at the burial," Jondalar said, smiling.

"That's not entirely true, Jondalar," Ayla said. "Don't you remember? The Losadunai have something like it, except they don't sing it. They just say the words. The Losaduna taught it to me in their language. It's not exactly the same, but it's similar."

"Maybe that's because Losaduna can't sing like Zelandoni," Jondalar said.

"Not all of us sing it," Jonokol said. "Many just say the words. I don't sing, and if you ever heard me, you'd know why."

"Some of the other Caves have different music, and some of the words are not exactly the same, either," the young male acolyte said. "I'd be interested in hearing the Losadunai version some time, especially if you can translate it for me, Ayla."

"I'd be glad to. Their language is very close to Zelandonii. You might be able to understand it, even without a translation," Ayla said.

For some reason, all three acolytes suddenly noticed her unfamiliar accent. The older woman had always thought of the Zelandonii the language and those who used it as special; they were the People, they were Earth's Children. It was hard to grasp the idea that this woman could think that people who lived all the way across the plateau glacier on the highland to the east could have a language that seemed similar to their own. The foreign woman must have heard many languages of people who lived far away that were very much different from Zelandonii to think so.

It struck them all how different the background of this foreign woman was from theirs, and how much she knew about other people that they didn't. Jondalar, too, had learned much on his Journey. In the few days since he had been back, he had already shown them many things. Perhaps that was the reason for Journeys, to learn new things.

Everyone knew about Journeys. Almost all young people talked about making one, but few actually did, and even fewer of those went very far, at least not that came back. But Jondalar was gone five years. He'd traveled far, had many adventures, but more important, he brought back knowledge that could benefit his people. He also brought ideas that could change things, and change wasn't always so desirable.

"I don't know if I should show you the painted walls as we pass by. It might spoil the special ceremony for you, but you are bound to see at least part of them, so I suppose I could hold up the light and let you see them a little better," the woman in front said.

"I would like to see them," Ayla said.

The acolyte in front held the torch up high so the woman Jondalar had brought home with him could see the paintings on the walls. The first one, the mammoth, was painted showing a side view, the way most portrayals of animals that she had seen were made. The hump on the head followed by a second hump high on the withers, but slightly lower down the sloping back made it easy to recognize. That configuration was the distinctive feature of the great woolly beast, even more than its curving tusks and long trunk. It was painted in red but shaded in reddish brown and black to show the contours and precise anatomical detail. It was facing the entrance and was so perfectly made that Ayla half expected the mammoth to walk out of the cave.

Ayla didn't quite understand why the painted animals looked so lifelike, or fully appreciate what it had required, but she couldn't resist looking closer to see how it was done. It was an elegant and accomplished technique. A flint tool had been used to cut a fine, distinct outline of the animal with exacting detail into the limestone wall of the cave, paralleled by a painted black line. Just outside of the engraved line, the wall had been scraped to show the light ivory-tan natural color of the stone. It highlighted the outline and the colors with which the mammoth had been painted, and contributed to the three-dimensional quality of the work.

But it was the paint within the outline that was so remarkable. Through observation and training from those who first conceived of the idea of taking a living animal and reproducing it on a two-dimensional surface, the artists who had painted the walls of the cave had gained a surprising and innovative knowledge of perspective. The techniques had been passed down, and though some artists were more skilled than others, most of them used shading to convey the sense of lifelike fullness.

As Ayla moved past the mammoth, she had the eerie sensation that the mammoth had also moved. She felt impelled to reach for the painted animal and touched the stone, then closed her eyes. It was cold, slightly damp, with the texture and feel of any limestone cave, but when she opened her eyes, she noticed that the artist had used the stone wall itself to advantage in the incredibly realistic creation. The mammoth had been placed on the wall in such a way that a rounded shape of the stone became the fullness of the belly, and a concretion of stalactite adhering to the wall that suggested a leg was painted as the back of a leg.

In the flickering light of the oil lamps, she noticed that when she moved, she saw the animal from a slightly different angle, which changed the way the natural relief of the stone appeared and threw shadows to a slightly different position. Even standing still, watching the reflections of the fire move on the stone, she had the impression that the animal painted on the wall was breathing. She understood then the reason that the mammoth had seemed to shift when she moved, and knew that if she hadn't examined it carefully, she could easily be convinced that it had.

She was reminded of the time at the Clan Gathering when she had to prepare the special drink Iza taught her to make for the mog-urs. The Mog-ur had shown her how to stand in the shadows so she would not be noticed, and told her exactly when to move out of them, which made it seem that she suddenly appeared. There was method to the magic of those who dealt with the world of the spirits, but there was magic, too.

She had felt something when she touched the wall, something that she couldn't quite explain or understand. It was a hint of that certain strangeness she had occasionally felt ever since she had inadvertently swallowed the leavings of the mog-urs' drink and followed them into the cave. From that time on, she occasionally experienced disturbing dreams and sometimes unsettling sensations even when she was awake.

She shook her head to rid herself of the feeling, then looked up and saw that the others were watching her. Smiling diffidently, she pulled her hand away from the stone wall quickly, afraid she had done something wrong, then looked toward the woman who held the torch. The acolyte said nothing as she turned to lead the way along the passage.

The lights from the small flames glinted faintly off damp walls with eerie hints of reflections as they moved quietly in single file along the corridor. There was a tingle of apprehension in the air. Ayla was sure they were going into the very heart of the steep limestone cliff and was glad to be with other people, sure she would get lost if she were alone. She trembled with a sudden flash of fear and foreboding, and a sense of what it might be like to be in a cave alone. She tried to shake off the feeling, but the chill in the dark, cool cave was not easy to dispel.

Not far beyond the first one there was another mammoth, then more mammoths, then two small horses, painted primarily in black. She stopped to look at them more closely. Again, a line perfectly defining the shape of a horse was engraved in the limestone, highlighted by a line painted in black. Within the line, the horses were painted black, but as with the rest of the paintings, the shading gave them a surprising realism.

Ayla noticed then that there were paintings on the right wall of the passage as well, some facing out and some in. Mammoths predominated; it seemed that a herd of mammoths was painted on the walls. Using the counting words, Ayla counted at least ten on both sides of the passage, and there may have been more. As she was continuing down the dark corridor, looking at the paintings momentarily lighted as she passed by, she was brought to a halt by the arresting scene of two reindeer greeting each other on the left wall. She had to see them better.

The first reindeer, facing into the cave, was male. He was painted in black, with the definitive shape and contours of the animal accurately rendered, including his huge antlers, though they were suggested by the arcing shapes rather than precisely painted with all their points. His head was lowered, and to Ayla's wonder and surprise, he was tenderly licking the forehead of a female. Unlike the majority of deer, female reindeer also had antlers, and in the painting as in life, hers were smaller. She was painted in red and her knees were bent so she could lower herself to accept his gentle caress.

The scene manifested a genuine sense of tenderness and caring, and it made Ayla think of Jondalar and herself. She had never thought of animals being in love before, but these seemed to be. It nearly brought her to tears, she was so moved. The acolyte guides allowed her to spend some time. They understood her reaction; they, too, were moved by this exquisite scene.

Jondalar was also staring in wonder at the painted reindeer. "That's a new one," he said. "I thought there was a mammoth there."

"There was. If you look closely at the female, you can still see some of the mammoth underneath," the young man in the rear explained.

"Jonokol made that," the woman in front said.

Both Jondalar and Ayla looked at the artist acolyte with new respect. "Now I understand why you are Zelandoni's acolyte," Jondalar said. "You are extraordinarily gifted."

Jonokol nodded to acknowledge Jondalar's comment. "We all have our Gifts. I am told you are an extraordinarily gifted flint-knapper. I look forward to seeing some of your work. In fact, there's a tool I've been trying to get someone to make for me, but I can't quite seem to explain it to any of the toolmakers so they understand. I was hoping Dalanar would be coming to the Summer Meeting so I could ask him."

"He is planning to come, but I'll be glad to give your idea a try, if you like," Jondalar said. "I enjoy a challenge."

"Perhaps we can talk tomorrow," Jonokol said.

"Can I ask you something, Jonokol?" Ayla said.

"Of course."

"Why did you paint the deer on top of the mammoth?"

"That wall, that place, drew me to it," Jonokol said. "It's where I had to put the reindeer. They were in the wall and wanted to come out."

"It is a special wall. It leads beyond," the woman said. "When the First sings there, or a flute is played, that wall answers. It echoes, resonates to the sound. Sometimes it tells you what it wants."

"Did all these walls tell someone to make paintings on them?" Ayla asked, indicating the paintings they had passed by.

"That's one reason this deep is so sacred. Most of the walls talk to you, if you know how to listen; they lead you places, if you are willing to go," the woman acolyte said.

"No one ever told me this before. Not in exactly this way. Why are you telling us now?" Jondalar asked.

"Because you will have to listen, and perhaps go through, if you are going to help the First find the elan of your brother, Jondalar," the woman said, then she added, "The zelandonia have been trying to understand why Jonokol was inspired to make these figures here. I'm beginning to get an idea." The woman smiled enigmatically at Jondalar and Ayla, then turned to walk deeper into the cave.

"Oh, before you go on," Ayla said to the woman, touching her arm to detain her. "I don't know what to call you, can I ask your name?"

"My name isn't important," she said. "When I become Zelandoni, I will be giving it up anyway. I am the First Acolyte to the Zelandoni of the Second Cave."

"Then, I suppose I could call you Acolyte of the Second," Ayla said.

"Yes, you could, although the Zelandoni of the Second has more than one acolyte. The other two are not here. They have gone ahead to the Summer Meeting."

"Then perhaps First Acolyte of the Second?"

"If it pleases you, I will respond to that name."

"What should I call you?" Ayla asked the young man who brought up the rear.

"I've only been an acolyte since the last Summer Meeting, and like Jonokol, I still use my own name most of the time. Perhaps I should give you a formal greeting and introduction." He held out both his hands. "I am Mikolan of the Fourteenth Cave of the Zelandonii, Second Acolyte of the Zelandoni of the Fourteenth Cave. And I welcome you," he said.

Ayla took his hands in hers. "I greet you, Mikolan of the Fourteenth Cave of the Zelandonii. I am Ayla of the Mamutoi, Member of the Lion Camp, Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth, Chosen by the Spirit of the Cave Lion, Protected by the Cave Bear, Friend of the horses, Whinney and Racer, and the hunter, Wolf."

"I seem to have heard that some people to the east refer to their zelandonia as the Mammoth Hearth?" the woman acolyte said.

"You are correct," Jondalar said. "They are the Mamutoi. Ayla and I lived with them for a year, but I'm surprised anyone here has heard about them. They live far away."

She looked at Ayla. "If you are a daughter of the Mammoth Hearth, that explains some things. You are zelandoni!"

"No, I am not," Ayla said. "The Mamut adopted me to the Mammoth Hearth. I wasn't called, but he was starting to teach me some things before I left with Jondalar."

The woman smiled. "You would not have been adopted if you were not meant to be. I am sure you will be called."

"I don't think I want to be," Ayla said.

"That may be," the First Acolyte of the Second said, then turned and continued leading them into the heart of Fountain Rocks.

Ahead, they began to see a glow, and as they approached, it grew almost brilliant. After the total darkness of the cave with only a few small lights, their eyes had adapted, and any greater illumination was all but dazzling. The corridor opened out and Ayla saw several people waiting in an enlarged area. It seemed almost crowded, and as she reached the area, and recognized people she had met, she realized that everyone there was zelandonia, except for Jondalar and her.

The large woman from the Ninth Cave was sitting on a seat someone had brought in for her. She got up and smiled. "We've been waiting for you," said the First. She gave both of them a hug that was held at a slight distance, and Ayla suddenly understood that it was a formal embrace, a greeting one gave to close associates in public.

One of the other Zelandonia nodded to Ayla. She responded with a nod to the short and slightly built man she identified as Zelandoni of the Eleventh, the one who had impressed her with his strong grip and self-confidence. An older man smiled at her, and she smiled back at Zelandoni of the Third, who had been so kind and supportive when she was trying to help Shevonar. She recognized most of the others only as people she had met and greeted.

A small fire had been made on top of some stones that had been brought in for the purpose they would be taken back out when they left. A partially filled waterbag was on the ground beside a good-size wooden cooking bowl full of steaming water. Ayla watched a young woman use a pair of bentwood tongs to fish out a couple of cooking stones from the bottom of the cooking bowl, then add more from the fire. The steam billowed out as the hot rocks touched the water. When she looked up, Ayla recognized Mejera and smiled at her.

Then the One Who Was First added some material from a pouch. She's making a decoction, cooking it, not just steeping a tea, Ayla thought. There is probably some root or bark in that drink, something strong. The next time hot stones were added, the billowing steam filled the air with a strong aroma. The mint was easy to detect, but she smelled other odors and flavors, which she tried to identify, and suspected that the mint was there to cover the taste of something less pleasant.

A couple of people spread a heavy leather covering on the damp and rocky floor near the seat that the First had occupied. "Ayla, Jondalar, why don't you come over here and make yourselves comfortable," the large woman said, indicating the leather. "I have something for you to drink." The young woman who was tending the potion in the cooking bowl brought out four cups in preparation. "It's not quite ready yet, but you might as well relax."

"Ayla has been enjoying the wall paintings," Jonokol said. "I think she might like to see more of them. It might be more relaxing than sitting there waiting until that drink is ready."

"Yes, I would like to see more," Ayla added quickly. She found herself suddenly feeling rather anxious about drinking some unknown decoction that she knew was intended to help her find some other world. Her past experience with similar drinks had not been especially agreeable.

Zelandoni observed her closely for a while. She knew Jonokol well enough to understand that he would not have made the suggestion without good reason. He must have noted that the young woman was showing some distress, and she did seem to be agitated.

"Certainly, Jonokol. Why don't you show her the painted walls," the First said.

"I'd like to go with them," Jondalar said. He wasn't feeling very calm himself. "And maybe the torch carrier could come with us."

"Yes, of course," said the First Acolyte of the Second, picking up the torch she had put out. "I'll need to relight it."

"There is some fine work on the wall behind the zelandonia, but I don't want to bother them," Jonokol said. "Let me show you something interesting down this corridor."

He led them down a passageway that turned off to the right from the main one. Immediately on the left, he stopped in front of another panel of reindeer and a horse.

"Did you do these, too?" Ayla asked.

"No, my teacher did. She used to be Zelandoni of the Second, before Kimeran's sister. She was an exceptional painter," Jonokol said.

"She was good, but I think the student has outdone the teacher," Jondalar said.

"Well, for the zelandonia, it is not so much the quality, although it is appreciated. It is the experience. These paintings are not just for looking at, you know," the First Acolyte of the Second said.

"I'm sure that's true," Jondalar said with a wry smile, "but for me, I think I like the looking more. I must admit, I'm not exactly waiting eagerly for this' ceremony. I'm willing, of course, and I think it may be interesting, but for the most part, I'm happy to let the zelandonia have the experience."

Jonokol grinned at his admission. "You are not alone in that feeling, Jondalar. Most people would rather stay firmly in this world. Come, let me show you something else before we have to get serious."

The artist acolyte led them to another area on the right side of the passage, where many more stalagmites and stalactites than usual had formed. The wall was covered with the calcareous formations, but on top of the concretions had been painted two horses that incorporated them to create the effect of a long shaggy winter coat. The one behind was leaping in a very animated way.

"These are very lively," Ayla said, quite intrigued. She had seen horses behave in similar ways.

"When boys first see it, they always say this one in back is 'leaping for Pleasure,'" Jondalar said.

"That is one interpretation," the woman acolyte said. "That could be a male attempting to mount the female in front, but I believe it is purposely ambiguous."

"Did your teacher paint these, Jonokol?" Ayla asked.

"No. I don't know who made them," Jonokol said. "No one does. They were done long ago, when the mammoths were painted. People say they were made by the ancestors, the forebears."

"There is something I want to show you, Ayla," the woman said.

"Are you going to show her the vulva?" Jonokol said with some surprise. "That is not usually shown on a first visit."

"I know, but I think we should make an exception for her," the other acolyte said, holding up the lamp and leading the way to a place not far from the horses. When she stopped, she lowered the torch to throw light down on a very unusual formation of rock that extended out from the wall and parallel to the floor, but raised up from it.

When Ayla first looked, she noticed an area of stone that had been enhanced with red, but it was only after looking carefully that she understood what it was, and then perhaps only because she had assisted more than one woman who was giving birth. A man might have recognized it before a woman. By accident or supernatural design the concretion had naturally formed an exact replica of a woman's sexual organ. The shape, the folds, even a depression that matched the entrance to her vagina, everything was there. Only the red color was added, to highlight it, to make sure they could find it easily.

"It is a woman!" Ayla said, astonished. "It is exactly like a woman! I have never seen anything like it."

"Now do you understand why this cave is so sacred? The Mother herself made this for us. It is proof that this cave is the Entrance to the Mother's Womb," said the woman who was training to serve the Great Earth Mother.

"Have you seen this before, Jondalar?" Ayla asked.

"Only once. Zelandoni showed it to me," he said. "It is remarkable. It is one thing for an artist like Jonokol to look at a cave wall, see the figure that is in it, and bring it to the surface for everyone to see. But this was here just as it is. The added color only makes it a little easier to see."

"There is one more place I want to show you," Jonokol said.

He went back the way they had come, and when they reached the enlarged area where everyone was waiting, he hurried past and turned right, back into the main corridor. At what appeared to be the end, on the left was a circular enclosure, and on the wall were concave depressions, the reverse of rounded-out bumps. In some of these, mammoths had been painted in a way that created an unusual illusion. At first glance, they didn't appear to be depressions; instead, they took on the characteristic of a mammoth's stomach, rounded outward. Ayla had to look twice, then reach to touch to convince herself that they actually were concave, not convex, dips and not bumps.

"They are remarkable!" Ayla said. "They are painted so that they seem to be opposite of what they are!"

"These are new, aren't they? I don't recall seeing them before," Jondalar said. "Did you paint them, Jonokol?"

"No, but I'm sure you'll meet the woman who did," he said.

"Everyone agrees, she is exceptional," the woman acolyte said. "As is Jonokol, of course. We are lucky to have two artists who are so talented."

"A few small figures are just beyond here," Jonokol said, looking at Ayla, "a woolly rhinoceros, a cave lion, an engraved horse, but it's a very narrow passage and hard to reach. A series of lines marks the end."

"They are probably ready for us. I think we should go back," the woman said.

As they turned around and were heading back, Ayla glanced up on the right wall, opposite the chapel-like enclosure with the mammoths and back along the corridor a short way. A strange feeling of uneasiness came over her. She was afraid she knew what was coming. She had felt it before. The first time was when she made the drink from the special roots for the mog-urs. Iza had told her it was too sacred to be wasted, so she wasn't allowed to practice making it.

She had already become disoriented, first from chewing the roots to soften them, then from the other preparations she had drunk during that night of special ceremony and celebration. When she noticed that there was some liquid left in the ancient bowl, she drank it so it wouldn't be wasted. The potent concoction had become stronger from soaking, and the effect on her was devastating. In her confused state, she had followed the light of the fires into the honeycombed depths of the cave, and when she'd come upon Creb and the other mog-urs, she hadn't been able to go back.

Creb was changed after that night, and she was never the same, either. That was when the mysterious dreams started and the waking moments of strange feelings and enigmatic visions that took her to some other place and sometimes came as warnings. They had been stronger and more prevalent on their Journey.

And now, as she stared up at the wall, the solid stone suddenly felt tenuous, as though she could see through it or into it. Instead of the firelights barely glinting off the hard surface, the wall was soft and deep and utterly black. And she was there, inside that menacing, nebulous space, and couldn't find her way out. She felt exhausted and weak, and she hurt deep inside. Then suddenly Wolf appeared. He was running through the tall grass, racing to meet her, coming to find her.

"Ayla! Ayla! Are you all right?" Jondalar said.

Chapter 18

"Ayla!" Jondalar said, louder.

"What? Oh, Jondalar. I saw Wolf," she said, blinking her eyes and shaking her head to try to overcome her dazed confusion and vague sense of foreboding.

"What do you mean, you saw Wolf? He didn't come with us. Remember? You left him with Folara," Jondalar said, his forehead creased with fear and concern.

"I know, but he was there," she said, pointing to the wall. "He came for me when I needed him."

"He has before," Jondalar said. "He saved your life, more than once. Maybe you were remembering."

"Maybe," Ayla said, but she didn't really think that was it.

"Did you say you saw a wolf there, on that wall?" Jonokol said.

"Not exactly on it," Ayla said, "but Wolf was there."

"I do think we need to go back," the woman acolyte said, but she was staring at her with a speculative expression.

"There you are," Zelandoni of the Ninth said when they returned to the widened area of the corridor. "Are you feeling more relaxed now and ready to proceed?" She was smiling, but Ayla had the distinct impression that the large woman was impatient and not entirely pleased.

After her vivid memory of the time when she drank some liquid that altered her perceptions, and her moment of displacement when she saw Wolf in the wall, Ayla was, if anything, feeling less inclined to drink some kind of beverage that would put her into some other kind of reality, or next world; but she didn't feel that she had a choice.

"It's not easy to feel relaxed in a cave like this," Ayla said, "and it frightens me to think about drinking that tea, but if you think it is necessary, I am willing to do what you want."

The First smiled again, and this time it seemed genuine. "Your honesty is refreshing, Ayla. Of course it is not easy to relax here. That is not the purpose of this place, and you are probably right to have some fear of this tea. It is very powerful. I was going to explain to you that you will feel strange after you drink it, and its effects are not entirely predictable. The effects usually wear off in a day or so, and I don't know of anyone who has been harmed by it, but if you would rather not, no one will hold it against you."

Ayla frowned in thought, wondering if she should refuse, but though she was glad she had been given the choice, it made it harder to say no. "If you want me to, I am willing," she said.

"I'm sure your participation would be helpful, Ayla," said the donier. "Yours as well, Jondalar. But I hope you understand, you also have the right to refuse."

"You know I've always been uncomfortable with the spirit world, Zelandoni," Jondalar said, "and in the last couple of days, what with digging graves and everything, I've been much closer to that place than I want to be until the Mother calls me. But I was the one who asked you to help Thonolan, and I can do no less than help you in any way I can. In fact, I'll be just as glad to get it all over with."

"Then why don't you both come over here and sit down on this leather pad, and we'll proceed," said the First Among Those Who Served The Great Earth Mother.

When they sat down the young woman ladled the tea into cups. Ayla glanced at Mejera and smiled. She smiled back, shyly, and Ayla realized that she was quite young. She seemed nervous, and Ayla wondered if it was the first time for her to be participating in this kind of ceremony. Probably the zelandonia were using this occasion as a teaching experience.

"Take your time," they were told by Zelandoni of the Third, who was assisting the acolyte in handing them the cups. "It tastes strong, but with the mint, it's not too bad."

Ayla took a sip and thought "not too bad" was a matter of opinion. Under any other circumstances, she would have spit it out. The fire in the hearth was out, but the beverage was rather hot, and she thought that whatever else was in it actually made the mint taste bad. Besides, this wasn't really a tea. It had been boiled, not steeped, and boiling never did bring out the best qualities of mint. She wondered if there weren't other, more compatible, innocuous, or healing herbs that might blend with the primary ingredients in a pleasanter way. Licorice root, perhaps, or linden flowers added later, after it was boiled. In any case, it wasn't a taste to savor, and she finally just drank it down.

She saw that Jondalar had done the same, and so did the First. Then she noticed that Mejera, who had boiled the water and ladled the beverage, had also drunk a cup.

"Jondalar, is this the stone you brought with you from Thonolan's burial?" the First said, showing him the small, sharp-edged, ordinary-looking gray stone with one iridescent blue opal face.

"Yes, it is," he said. He would recognize that stone anywhere.

"Good. It is an unusual stone, and I'm sure it still carries a trace of your brother's elan. Take it in your hand, Jondalar, and then hold hands with Ayla so that the stone is held by both of you. Move close to my seat and with your other hand, take my hand. Now, Mejera, you move up close to me and take my hand, and Ayla, if you will come a little closer, you and Mejera can hold hands."

Mejera must be a new acolyte, Ayla thought. I wonder if it is her first time for something like this. It's my first time with the Zelandonii, although that time at the Clan Gathering with Creb was probably similar, and of course, what I did with Mamut was. She found herself recalling her last experience with the old man of the Lion Camp who interceded with the spirit world, and it did not make her feel better. When Mamut found out she'd had some of the special Clan roots that the mog-urs used, he wanted to try them, but he was unfamiliar with their properties and they were stronger than he had thought. They were both nearly lost to the deep void, and Mamut warned her against ever using them again. Though she did have more of those roots with her, she didn't plan to take them.

The four who had consumed the drink were now facing each other, holding hands, the First sitting on a low padded stool, the rest sitting on the leather mat on the ground. The Zelandoni of the Eleventh brought an oil lamp and placed it in the middle of them. Ayla had seen similar lamps but found herself quite intrigued by it. She was already beginning to feel some effects from the drink as she stared at the stone that held fire.

The lamp was made of limestone. The general shape, including the bowl-like section and the handle extension, had been pecked out with a much harder stone, like granite. Then it was smoothed with sandstone and decorated with symbolic markings etched in with a flint burin. Three wicks were resting against the side of the bowl opposite the handle at different angles, each with one end sticking out of the liquid fat, and the rest of the absorbent material soaking in it. One was quick-starting and hot-burning lichen that melted the fat, the second was dried moss twisted into a sort of cord that gave good light, and the third was made of a dried strip of a porous fungus that absorbed the liquefied fat so well, it kept burning even after the oil was gone. The animal fat that was used for the fuel had been rendered in boiling water so that the impurities fell to the bottom, leaving only pure white tallow floating on top after the water cooled. The flame burned clean, with no visible smoke or soot.

Ayla glanced around and noted, somewhat to her dismay, that a Zelandoni was putting out an oil lamp, and then she saw another going out. Soon all the lamps were out, except for the one in the center. Seeming to defy its diminutive size, the light from the single lamp spread out and lit the faces of the four people holding hands with a warm golden glow. But beyond the circle deep and utter darkness filled every cranny, every crack and hollow, with a black so complete, it felt thick and stifling. Ayla began to feel apprehensive, then she turned her head and caught the bare glimpse of a glow coming from the long corridor. Some of the lamps that had guided their way must still be lit, she thought, and let out a breath that she didn't know she was holding. She was feeling very strange. The decoction was taking effect quickly. It seemed as though things around her were slowing down or that she was going faster. She looked at Jondalar and found him staring at her, and she had the strangest sense that she almost knew what he was thinking. Then she looked at Zelandoni and Mejera, and felt something, too, but it was not as strong as her feeling with Jondalar, and she wondered if she was imagining it.

She became conscious of hearing music, flutes, drums, and people singing, but not with words. She wasn't quite sure when or even from where it originated. Each singer maintained a single note, or series of repetitive notes, until he or she ran out of breath, and then would take a breath and start again. Most singers and the drummers repeated the same thing over and over, but a few exceptional singers varied their song, as did most of the flute players. Beginning and ending at each person's own choosing meant that no two people started or stopped at the same time. The effect was a continuous sound of interweaving tones that changed as new voices began and others ended, with an overlay of divergent melodies. It was sometimes atonal, sometimes closely harmonic, but overall a strangely wonderful, beautiful, and powerful fugue.

The other three people in her circle were singing as well. The First, with her beautiful, rich contralto, was one who varied her tones in a melodic way. Mejera had a pure, high voice, and a simple, repetitive set of tones. Jondalar also sang a repetition of tones, a chant he had obviously perfected and was happy with. Ayla had never really heard him sing before, but his voice was rich and true, and she liked the sound. She wondered why he didn't sing more.

Ayla felt that she should join in, but she had attempted to sing when she lived with the Mamutoi and knew she simply didn't know how to carry a tune. She never learned as a child, and it was a little late to learn now. Then she heard one of the men nearby who just crooned in a monotone. It reminded her of when she was living alone in her valley and used to hum a similar monotone at night while she rocked herself to sleep, the leather cloak that she had used to hold her son to her hip crumpled up into a ball and held close to her stomach.

Very softly, she began to hum her low-pitched monotone and found herself rocking very slightly. There was something soothing about the music. Her own humming relaxed her, and the sounds of the others gave her a comforting, protected feeling, as though they were supporting her and would be there for her if she needed them. It made it easier for her to give in to the effects of the drink, which was having a strong influence on her.

She became acutely aware of the hands she was holding. On her left, the hand of the young woman was cool, moist, and so softly compliant, the grip was slack. Ayla clasped Mejera's hand but felt almost no return hold; even her grasp was young and shy. In contrast, the hand on her right was warm, dry, and slightly callused from use. Jondalar held her hand with a firm grip, as she held his, and she was extremely conscious of the hard stone held between them, which was slightly disconcerting, but his hand made her feel secure.

Though she couldn't see it, she was sure the flat opal side was against her palm, which meant that the triangular ridge on the side opposite was in his. As she concentrated on it, the stone seemed to be warming, matching their body heat, adding to it, feeling as though it were becoming a part of them or they a part of it. She remembered the chill she'd felt when she first entered the cave, and that the cold intensified as they got farther into its depths, but at the moment, sitting on the padded leather and dressed in her warm clothes, she did not feel cold at all.

Her attention was caught by the fire in the lamp; it made her think of the pleasant heat of fire in a hearth. She stared at the small flickering flame, became fixated on the bit of incandescence to the exclusion of everything else. She watched the small yellow light as it fluttered and trembled. With every breath she took, she seemed to control the flame.

As she watched closely, she saw that the light wasn't entirely yellow. To keep still while she studied it, she held her breath. The small fire was rounded in the middle, with the brightest yellow part starting near the end of the wick and tapering up to a point. Inside the yellow was a darker area that began below the end of the wick and narrowed into a cone as it rose up within the bit of fire. Below the yellow, at the bottom where the flame began, the fire had a hint of blue.

She had never looked at the fire of an oil lamp with such intensity before. When she started breathing again, the lambet fire seemed to be playing with the lamp, moving to the meter of the music. As it danced over the glossy surface of the melted tallow, its light reflecting from the fuel, the flame grew more radiant. It filled her eyes with its softly glowing luminescence until she could see nothing else.

It made her feel airy, weightless, carefree, as though she could have floated up into the warmth of the light. Everything was easy, effortless. Sme smiled, laughed softly, the found herself looking at Jondalar. She thought about the life that he had started growing inside her, and a sudden flood of intense love for him welled up and overflowed. He could not help but respond to her glowing smile; as she watched him begin to smile back, she felt happy and loved. Life was full of joy, and she wanted to share it.

She beamed at Mejera and was rewarded with a tentative smile in return, then turned to Zelandoni and included her in the beneficience of her happiness. In a dispassionate corner of her mind that seemed to have distanced itself from her, she seemed to be watching everything with a strange clarity.

"I am getting ready to call Shevonar's elan and direct him to the spirit world," the One Who Was First interrupted her singing to say. Her voice sounded far away, even to her own ears. "After we help him, I will try to find the elan of Thonolan. Jondalar and Ayla will have to help me. Think about how he died, and where his bones are resting."

To Ayla, the sound of her words was full of music that grew louder and more complex. She heard tones resonating from the walls all around her, and watched as the huge donier seemed to become a part of the reverberating chant she sang again, a part of the cave itself. She saw the woman's eyes close. When she opened them, she seemed to be seeing something that was far away. Then her eyes rolled back, showing only whites, and closed again as she slumped forward in her seat.

The young woman whose hand she was holding was shaking. Ayla wondered if it was from fear or if Mejera was simply overwhelmed. She turned to look at Jondalar again. He seemed to be looking at her and she started to smile, but then she realized that he, too, was staring into space, not seeing her at all but something far away inside his mind. Suddenly, she found herself back in the vicinity of her valley again.

Ayla heard something that chilled her blood and set her heart racing: the thundering roar of a cave lion and a human scream. Jondalar was there with her, inside her, it seemed; she felt the pain of a leg being mauled by the lion, then he lost consciousness. Ayla stopped, her blood pounding in her ears. It had been so long since she had heard a human sound, yet she knew it was human, and something else. She knew it was her kind of human. She was so stunned that she couldn't think. The scream pulled at her it was a cry for help.

With Jondalar's presence unconscious, no longer dominant, she could feel the others there. Zelandoni, distant but powerful; Mejera, closer but vague. Underlying everything was the music, voices and flutes, faint but supporting, comforting, and the drums, deep and resounding.

She heard the growling of the cave lion and saw its reddish mane. Then she realized Whinney had not been nervous, and she knew why' "That's Baby! Whinney, that's Baby!"

There were two men. She pushed aside the lion she had raised and knelt to examine them. Her main concern was as a medicine woman, but she was astonished and curious as well. She knew they were men, though they were the first men of the Others she could remember seeing.

She knew immediately that the man with the darker hair was beyond hope. He lay in an unnatural position, his neck broken. The toothmarks on his throat proclaimed the cause. Though she had never seen him before, his death upset her. Tears of grief filled her eyes. It wasn't that she loved him, but that she felt she had lost something beyond value before she ever had a chance to appreciate it. She was devastated that the first time she saw people of her own kind, one was dead.

She wanted to acknowledge his humanity, to honor him with a burial, but a close look at the other man made her realize that it would be impossible. The man with the yellow hair still breathed, but his life was pumping out of him through a gash in his leg. His only hope was to get him back to the cave as quickly as possible so she could treat him. There was no time for a burial.

She didn't know what to do. She didn't want to leave the man there for the lions' She noticed that the loose rock at the back of the blind canyon looked very unstable much of it had piled up behind a larger boulder that was none too stable itself. She dragged the dead man to the back of the blind canyon near the slide of loose rock'

When she finally got the other man wrapped into the travois, she returned to the stone ledge with a long sturdy Clan spear. She looked down at the dead man and felt sorrow for the fact of his death. With the formal silent motions of the Clan, she addressed the World of the Spirits.

She had watched Creb, the old Mog-ur, consign the spirit of Iza to the next world with his eloquent flowing movements. She had repeated the same gestures when she found Creb's body in the cave after the earthquake, though she had never known the full meaning of the holy gestures. That wasn't important she knew the intent'

Using the sturdy spear as a lever, in much the same way as she would have used a digging stick to turn over a log or extract a root, she prised free the large stone and jumped hack out of the way as a cascade of loose rock covered the dead man'

When they neared an opening between jagged rock walls, Ayla dismounted and examined the ground. It held no fresh spoor. There was no pain, now. It was a different time, much later. The leg was healed, a large scar was all that remained of the wound. They had been riding double on Whinney. Jondalar got down and followed her, but she knew he didn't really want to be there.

She led the way into a blind canyon, then climbed up on a rock that had split from the wall. She walked to a rockslide at the back.

"This is the place, Jondalar," she said, and, withdrawing a pouch from her tunic, gave it to him. He knew this place.

"What is this?" he asked, holding up the small leather bag.

"Red earth, Jondalar. For his grave. "

He nodded, unable to speak. He felt the pressure of tears and made no effort to check them. He poured the red ochre into his hand and broadcast it on the rocks and gravel, then spread a second handful. She waited while he stared at the rocky slope with wet eyes, and when he turned to go, she made a gesture over Thonolan's grave.

They arrived at the blind canyon strewn with huge, sharp-angled boulders and started in, drawn to the slope of loose gravel at the far end. Time had passed again. They were living with the Mamutoi now, and the Lion Camp was going to adopt her. They had gone back to her valley, so Ayla could get some of the things she had made to give as gifts for her new people, and were returning. Jondalar stood at the foot of the slope, wishing there was something he could do to acknowledge this burial place of his brother. Perhaps Doni had already found him, since She called him back to Her so young. But he knew Zelandoni would try to find this resting place of Thonolan's spirit and help guide him to the spirit world, if she could. But how could he tell her where this place was? He couldn't even have found it without Ayla.

He noticed Ayla had a small leather pouch in her hand, one similar to the kind she wore around her neck. "You have told me his spirit should return to Doni," she said. "I don't know the ways of the Great Earth Mother, I only know of the Spirit World of the Clan totems. I asked my Cave Lion to guide him there. Maybe it is the same place, or maybe your Great Mother knows of that place, but the Cave Lion is a powerful totem and your brother is not without protection."

She held up the small pouch. "I made an amulet for you. You, too, were chosen by the Cave Lion. You don't have to wear it, but you should keep it with you. I put a piece of red ochre in it, so it can hold a piece of your spirit and a piece of your totem's, but I think your amulet should hold one more thing."

Jondalar was frowning. He didn't want to offend her, but he wasn't sure if he wanted this Clan totem amulet.

"I think you should take a piece of stone from your brother's grave. A piece of his spirit may stay with it, and you can carry it back in your amulet to your people."

The knots of consternation on his forehead deepened, then suddenly cleared. Of course! That might help Zelandoni find this place in a spirit trance. Maybe there was more to Clan totems than he realized. After all, didn't Doni create the spirits of all the animals? "Yes, I'll keep this and put a stone from Thonolan's grave into it," he said.

He looked at the loose, sharp-edged gravel sloping against the wall in a tenuous equilibrium. Suddenly a stone, giving way to the cosmic force of gravity, rolled down amid a spattering of other rocks and landed at Jondalar's feet. He picked it up. At first glance, it appeared to be the same as all the other innocuous little pieces of broken granite and sedimentary rock. But when he turned it over, he was surprised to see a shining opalescence where the stone had broken. Fiery red lights gleamed from the heart of the milky white stone, and shimmering streaks of blues and greens danced and sparkled in the sun as he turned it this way and that.

"Ayla, look at this," he said, showing her the opal facet of the small rock he had picked up. "You'd never guess it from the back. You'd think it was just an ordinary stone, but look here, where it broke off. The colors seem to come from deep inside, and they're so bright, it almost seems alive."

"Maybe it is, or maybe it is a piece of the spirit of your brother," she said.

Ayla became aware of Jondalar's warm hand and the stone pressing against her palm. Its heat increased, not enough to cause discomfort, but enough to make her notice it. Was it Thonolan's spirit that was trying to be noticed? She wished she'd had a chance to get to know the man. The things she'd heard about him since she arrived indicated that he had been well liked. It was a shame that he'd died so young. Jondalar had often said that Thonolan was the one who had wanted to travel. He had gone on the Journey only because his brother was going, and because he didn't really want to mate Marona.

"O Doni, Great Mother, help us to find our way to the other side, to your world, to the place beyond and yet within the unseen spaces of this world. As the dying old moon holds the new within its slender arms, the world of the spirits, of the unknown, holds this world of the tangible, of flesh and bone, grass and stone, within its unseen grasp. But with your help it can be seen, it can be known."

Ayla heard the plea, sung in a strange muted chant by the huge woman. She had noticed that she was getting dizzy, though that was not quite the word to describe her sensations. She closed her eyes and felt herself falling. When she opened them again, lights were flashing from within her eyes. Though she had not really paid attention to them when she was looking at the animals, she realized now that she had seen other things, signs and symbols marked on the walls of the cave, some of which matched the visions in her eyes. It didn't seem to matter now whether her eyes were open or closed. She felt that she was falling into a deep hole, a long dark tunnel, and she resisted the sensation, tried to keep control.

"Don't fight it, Ayla. Let go," the great donier said. "We are all here with you. We will support you, Doni will protect you. Let Her take you where She will. Listen to the music, let it help you, tell us what you see."

Ayla dove through the tunnel headfirst, as though she were swimming underwater. The walls of the tunnel, of the cave, began to shimmer, then seemed to dissolve. She was looking through them, seeing into them, beyond them to a grassland and, in the distance, many bison.

"I see bison, huge herds of bison on a large open plain," Ayla said. For a moment the walls solidified again, but the bison stayed. They covered the walls where the mammoths had been. "They are on the walls, painted on the walls, painted in reds and black, and shaped to fit. They're beautiful, perfect, so full of life, the way Jonokol makes them. Don't you see them? Look, over there."

The walls melted again. She could see into them, through them. "They're in a field again, a herd of them. Heading toward the surround." Suddenly Ayla screamed. "No, Shevonar! No! Don't go there, it's dangerous." Then, with sorrow and resignation, "It's too late. I'm sorry, I did everything I could, Shevonar."

"She wanted a sacrifice, to show respect, so people know that sometimes they, too, must give of their own," the First said. She was there with Ayla. "You cannot stay here anymore, Shevonar. You must return to Her now. I will help you. We will help you. We will show you the way. Come with us, Shevonar. Yes, it's dark, but see the light ahead? The bright, glowing light? Go that way. She waits for you there."

Ayla held Jondalar's warm hand. She could feel that the strong presence of Zelandoni was with them, and a fourth companion, the young woman with the limp hand, Mejera, but she was ambiguous, inconsistent. Occasionally she would manifest quite strongly, then would fade to uncertainty.

"Now is the time. Go to your brother, Jondalar," the large woman said. "Ayla can help you. She knows the way."

Ayla felt the stone they held between them and thought about the beautiful, blue-toned milky surface with fiery red highlights. It expanded, filling the space around her until she dove into it. She was swimming, not on top but through the water, underwater, so fast that it felt as if she were flying. She was flying, speeding over the landscape, seeing meadows and mountains, forests and rivers, great inland seas and vast grassy steppes, and the profusion of animals those habitats supported.

The others were with her, letting her lead. Jondalar was closest, and she felt him most strongly, but she sensed the proximity of the powerful donier as well. The other woman's presence was so faint, it was hardly noticed. Ayla took them directly to the blind canyon on the rugged steppes far to the east. "This is the place I saw him. I don't know where to go from here," she said.

"Think of Thonolan, call to his spirit, Jondalar," Zelandoni said. "Reach out to your brother's elan."

"Thonolan! Thonolan! I can feel him," Jondalar said. "I don't know where he is, but I can feel him." Ayla had a perception of Jondalar with someone else, though she could not discern who. Then she sensed other presences, at first just a few, then many, calling out to them. Out of the throng, two stood out' no, three. One of them carried an infant.

"Are you still traveling, still exploring, Thonolan?" Jondalar asked.

Ayla heard no answer, but sensed laughter. Then, she had the feeling of an infinity of space to travel and places to go.

"Is Jetamio with you? And her child?" Jondalar queried.

Again, Ayla sensed no words, but felt a surge of love radiating from the amorphous form.

"Thonolan, I know your love of travel and adventure." This time it was the First who spoke with her thoughts to the elan of the man. "But the woman with you wants to return to the Mother. She has followed you only out of love, but she is ready to go. If you love her, you should go and take her and her infant with you. It is time, Thonolan. The Great Earth Mother wants you."

Ayla discerned confusion, a sense of being lost.

"I will show you the way," the donier said. "Follow me."

Ayla perceived herself being drawn along with the rest, speeding rapidly over a landscape that might have been familiar if the details were not so blurred, and if it were not getting so dark. She held tight to the warm hand on her right and felt her left hand being fervently clutched. A brightness appeared before them in the distance that was like a great bonfire, but different. It grew more intense as they approached.

They slowed. "You can find your way from here," Zelandoni said.

Ayla sensed relief from the elans, and then separation. A somber darkness engulfed them, and with the absolute absence of light, a silence, pervasive and complete, surrounded them. Then, faintly, in the unearthly quiet, she heard music: a fluctuating fugue of flutes, voices, and drums. She felt movement. They were accelerating at a tremendous rate, but this time it seemed to come from the hand on the left. Mejera was clutching hard, in fear, determined to return as fast as possible and dragging everyone else along in her wake.

When they stopped, Ayla felt both hands holding hers. They were in the immediate presence of the music, back in the cave. Ayla opened her eyes, saw Jondalar, Zelandoni, and Mejera. The lamp in their midst was sputtering, the oil almost gone and only one wick burning. In the darkness beyond, she saw the small fire of a lamp move, seemingly by itself, and shivered. Another lamp was brought forward and exchanged for the dying light in the center. They were sitting on the leather pad, but now, even in her warm clothing, she felt chilled.

They let go of each other's hands, though Ayla and Jondalar held on for a beat or two longer than the rest, and began to shift positions. The One Who Was First joined in with the singers and brought the musical fugue to a close. More lamps were lit and people started moving around. Some stood up and stamped their feet.

"I want to ask you something, Ayla," the large woman said.

Ayla looked at her expectantly.

"Did you say you saw bison on the walls?"

"Yes, the mammoths had been covered over and made into bison, with the shape of the head and the hump on the back filled in and made to look like the large hump on a bison's withers, and then the walls seemed to disappear and they became real bison. There were some other animals, the horses, and the reindeer facing each other, but I saw this place as a bison cave," Ayla said.

"I think your vision is because of the recent bison hunt and the tragedy surrounding it. You were in the midst of it, and you treated Shevonar," the First said. "But I think there is a meaning to your vision beyond that. They came to you in great numbers in this place. Perhaps the Spirit of Bison is telling the Zelandonii that there has been too much hunting of bison and we need to suspend the hunting of them for the rest of the year to atone, to overcome the bad luck."

There were murmurs of assent. It made the zelandonia feel better to think they could do something to placate the Bison Spirit and remove the ill fortune the unexpected death presaged. They would inform their Caves of the ban on bison hunting, almost grateful to have a message to bring them.

The acolytes gathered up the things that were brought into the cave, then the lamps were all relit and used to light their way out. The zelandonia left the chamber and retraced their steps. When they reached the ledge outside the cave, the sun was setting in a brilliant display of fiery reds, golds, and yellows in the west. On the way back from Fountain Rocks, no one seemed inclined to talk much about their experiences in the deep cave. As the various zelandonia left the group to return to their respective Caves, Ayla wondered what the others had felt and if it was the same thing that she had, buts he was reluctant to bring it up. Though she had many questions, she wasn't sure if it was appropriate to ask, or if she really wanted to know the answers.

Zelandoni asked Jondalar if he was satisfied that they had found his brother's spirit and helped his elan to find his way. Jondalar said he thought Thonolan was content, and therefore he was, but Ayla thought it was more that he was relieved. He had done what he could, though it hadn't been easy for him, now the burden of worrying about it was over. By the time Ayla, Jondalar, Zelandoni, and Jonokol reached the Ninth Cave, only the lonely flickering lights in the night sky and the small fires in their stone lamps and torches remained to light their way.

Ayla and Jondalar were both tired when they reached Marthona's dwelling. Wolf was nervously excited and very happy to see Ayla. After comforting the animal and exchanging greetings, they had a light meal and not long after went to bed. It had been a difficult few days.

"Can I help you cook this morning, Marthona?" Ayla asked. They were the first two awake and were enjoying a quiet cup of tea together while everyone else still slept. "I'd like to learn how you like food prepared, and where you keep things."

"I'd be happy to have your help, Ayla, but this morning we've all been invited to share a morning meal with Joharran and Proleva. Zelandoni has been invited, too. Proleva often cooks for her, and I think Joharran feels that he hasn't had much time to talk with his brother since he returned. He seems particularly interested in learning more about that new spear-throwing weapon," Marthona said.

Jondalar woke up remembering the discussion about abelans and how important it was to Ayla to feel that she belonged. Since she had no memory of her own people, and no longer had any connection with the people who had raised her, it was understandable. She had even left behind the Mamutoi, who had made her one of them, to go home with him. The thought preyed on his mind all through the meal with Joharran's family. Everyone there belonged to the Zelandonii, they were all his family, his Cave, his people. Only Ayla was not. It was true they would soon be mated, but she would still be "Ayla of the Mamutoi, mated to Jondalar of the Zelandonii."

After a discussion with Joharran about the spear-thrower, exchanging anecdotes with Willamar about traveling, and general conversation with everyone about the Summer Meeting, the talk turned to Jondalar and Ayla's mating at the First Matrimonial. Marthona was explaining to Ayla that there were two mating ceremonies each summer. The first, and usually the biggest one, was held as early as reasonably possible. Most people who would be joined then had been making the arrangements for some time. The second one was conducted shortly before they left and usually mated those who decided to tie the knot during the summer. There were also two womanhood ceremonies, one shortly after they arrived and the second just before the Summer Meeting ended.

Impulsively Jondalar interrupted her explanations. "I would like Ayla to belong, to become one of us. After we are mated, I would like her to be 'Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii,' not 'Ayla of the Mamutoi.' I know that is usually a decision that a person's mother, or the man of her hearth, makes when that person wants to change affiliation, along with the leaders and Zelandonia, but Mamut gave the choice to Ayla when she left. If she is willing, can I have your agreement, mother?"

Marthona was startled by the suddenness of his request and was caught off guard. "I would not refuse you, Jondalar," she said, feeling that her son had put her in an untenable position to ask such a thing in public without warning. "But it is not entirely up to me. I am happy to welcome Ayla to the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, but it is your brother, and Zelandoni, and others, including Ayla herself, who have a say in that decision."

Folara grinned, knowing that her mother did not like to be taken by surprise like that. It rather pleased her that Jondalar had caught her without warning, but she had to admit, Marthona had recovered well.

"Well, I for one would not hesitate to accept her," Willamar said. "I would even adopt her, but since I am mated to your mother, Jondalar, I'm afraid it would make her a sister, like Folara, an unmatable woman. I don't think you would want that."

"No, but I appreciate the thought," Jondalar said.

"Why do you bring it up now?" Marthona asked, still a little miffed.

"It seemed as good a time as any," Jondalar said. "We'll be leaving soon for the Summer Meeting, and I would like it settled before we go. I know we haven't been home very long, but most of you have gotten to know Ayla. I think she would be a valuable addition to the Ninth Cave."

Ayla was more than a little surprised, too, but she said nothing. Do I want to be adopted by the Zelandonii? she asked herself. Does it matter? If Jondalar and I are going to be mated, I will be the same as one, whether I have the name or not. He seems to want it. I'm not sure why, but maybe he has a good reason. He knows his people much better than I do.

"Perhaps I should tell you something, Jondalar," Joharran said. "I think to those of us who know her, Ayla would be a more than acceptable addition to our Cave, but not everyone feels that way. When I was walking back from Down River, I decided to tell Laramar and some others about the bison feast, and when I approached, I overheard them talking. I'm sorry to say, they were making disparaging remarks, in particular about her healing skills and treatment of Shevonar. They seem to feel that anyone who learned healing from' the Clan, could not know much. It's their prejudice talking, I'm afraid. I told them no one, not even Zelandoni, could have done more, and I must admit they made me angry. That's not always the best time to make a point."

So that's why he was so angry, Ayla thought. The knowledge gave her mixed feelings. She was upset by what those men said about Iza's healing abilities, but pleased that Joharran had spoken up for her.

"All the more reason to make her one of us now," Jondalar said. "You know those men. They do nothing but gamble and drink Laramar's barma. They haven't even bothered to learn a craft or a skill, unless you consider gambling one. They are not even decent hunters. They are lazy, worthless men who contribute nothing, unless they're shamed into it, and they have little shame. They will do anything to avoid making an effort toward helping the Cave, and everyone knows it. No one will pay attention to what they say if the ones people respect are willing to accept her and make her Zelandonii." He was obviously upset. He wanted Ayla to be accepted for herself, and this put a different character on it.

"That's not entirely true about Laramar, Jondalar," Proleva said. "He may be lazy about most things, and I don't think he likes to hunt much, but Laramar does have a skill. He can make a drinkable beverage out of almost anything that will ferment. I've known him to use grains, fruits, honey, birch sap, even some roots, and turn out a drink that most people like, and he makes it for almost every occasion when people get together. It's true, some people overdo it, but he's just the provider."

"I wish he was a provider," Marthona said with a scornful edge. "Then maybe the children of his hearth wouldn't have to beg for everything they need. Tell me, Joharran, how often is he too 'sick' in the mornings to join a hunting party?"

"I thought food was for everyone, as they need it," Ayla said.

"Food, yes. They won't starve, but for everything else, they have to depend on the goodwill and generosity of other people," the First said.

"But if, as Proleva says, he has the skill to make a very good drink that everyone likes, can't he exchange that for whatever his family needs?" Ayla said.

"He could, yes, but he doesn't," Proleva said.

"What about his mate? Can't she convince him to contribute to his family?" Ayla said.

"Tremeda? She's even worse than Laramar. All she does is drink his barma and produce more children that she doesn't take care of," Marthona said.

"What does Laramar do with all the drink he makes if he doesn't trade it for things for his family?" Ayla wanted to know.

"I'm not sure," Willamar said, "But he would have to trade some of it for ingredients to make more."

"It's true, he always manages to trade for what he wants, but he never has enough for his mate and her children," Proleva said. "It's a good thing that Tremeda doesn't seem to mind asking people to give her things for her 'poor children.'"

"And he does drink a lot of it himself," Joharran said. "Tremeda does, too. I think he gives a good measure away. There is always a bunch around him hoping for drinks. I think he likes to have them around. He probably thinks they're his friends, but I wonder how long they'd stay if he stopped giving them barma."

"Not long, I'd guess," Willamar said. "But I don't think Laramar and his friends are the ones to decide whether Ayla becomes Zelandonii."

"You are right, Trade Master. I think there's no question that we would have no problem accepting Ayla, but maybe we should let Ayla decide," Zelandoni said. "No one has asked her if she wants to be a woman of the Zelandonii."

All heads turned to look at her. Now she was the one who felt uncomfortable. It was a while before she said anything, which made Jondalar a bit nervous. Maybe he had misjudged her. Maybe she didn't want to become Zelandonii. Maybe he should have asked her first before he started this, but with all the talk about Matrimonials, it seemed an appropriate time. Finally Ayla spoke.

"When I decided to leave the Mamutoi and go with Jondalar back to his home, I knew how the Zelandonii felt about the Clan, the people who raised me, and I knew that you might not want me. I admit I was a little afraid to meet his family, his people." She stopped for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts and find the right words to say what she felt.

"I'm a stranger to you, a foreign woman, with strange ideas and ways. I brought animals that live with me and asked you to accept them. Horses are animals that are usually hunted, and I wanted you to make a place for them. I have just been thinking today that I would like to make a covered shelter for them at the south end of the Ninth Cave, not far from Down River. During the winter, the horses are used to having a refuge that is out of the weather. I also brought a wolf, a meat-eating hunter. Some of his kind have been known to attack people, and I asked you to allow me to bring him inside, to sleep in the same dwelling that I sleep in." She smiled at Jondalar's mother.

"You didn't hesitate, Marthona. You invited me and Wolf to share your home. And Joharran, you allowed the horses to stay nearby, and let me take them right up on the ledge in front of your dwellings. Brun, the leader of my clan, would not have. You all listened when I explained about the Clan, and you didn't turn me away. You were willing to consider that the ones you call flatheads might be people, perhaps a different kind of people, but not animals. I didn't expect that you would be so thoughtful, but I am grateful.

"It's true that not everyone has been kind, but many more of you have defended me, though you hardly know me. I've been here only a short time. It may be because of Jondalar, because you trust that he would not bring someone who would try to harm his people or that you could not accept." She stopped and closed her eyes for a moment, then continued.

"For all my fears about meeting Jondalar's family and his people, the Zelandonii, when I left I knew there would be no turning back. I didn't know how you would feel about me, but it didn't matter. I love Jondalar. I want to spend my life with him. I was willing to do whatever was needed, to put up with whatever I had to, to be with him. But you have welcomed me, and now you ask if I want to become Zelandonii." She closed her eyes to maintain her control and tried to swallow the fullness in her throat.

"I have wanted that since I first saw Jondalar, and wasn't even sure if he would live. I grieved for his brother, not because I knew him, but because I recognized him. It troubled me that I would never have an opportunity to know one of the first people of my own kind that I could remember seeing. I don't know what language I spoke before the Clan found me and took me in. I learned to communicate the way the Clan does, but the first language I can remember speaking is Zelandonii. Even if I don't speak it quite right, I think of it as my language. But before we could even speak to each other, I wished that I was one of Jondalar's people so that I would be acceptable to him, so that someday he might consider me for his mate. Even if it was his second or third woman, it would have been enough.

"You ask me, do I want to be a Zelandonii woman? Oh, yes, I want to be a Zelandonii woman. With all my heart I want to be a Zelandonii woman. I want that more than I have ever wanted anything in my life," she said, her eyes sparkling with tears.

There was a stunned silence. Without even realizing how he got there, Jondalar had taken the few steps to reach her and take her in his arms. He felt so much for her, there were no words to convey it. He thought it was amazing that she could be so strong and yet so vulnerable. There wasn't a person there who wasn't moved. Even Jaradal had some understanding of what she said. Folara's cheeks were wet with tears, and several others were close to it. Marthona was the first to regain her composure.

"I, for one, am happy to welcome you to the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii," she said, hugging her in a spontaneous gesture. "And I'll be glad to see Jondalar settle down with you, though there may be several women who would wish otherwise. Women have always loved him, but I sometimes doubted that he would find a woman he could love. I thought that he might not choose someone from among our people, but I didn't think he would have to travel so far. Now I know there must have been some reason that he did, because I understand why he loves you. You are a rare woman, Ayla."

They started talking about the Summer Meeting again, and when they would be leaving, and Zelandoni mentioned that they still had time to have a small ceremony to bring Ayla into the Ninth Cave and make her a Zelandonii woman.

Just then there was an urgent knocking on the panel next to the entrance, but before anyone could respond, a girl burst in and ran to Zelandoni, obviously very distressed. Ayla thought she could count perhaps ten years, but was surprised at how tattered, stained, and dirty her clothes were.

"Zelandoni," she said, "they told me you were here. I can't get Bologan up."

"Is he sick? Did he hurt himself?" Zelandoni asked.

"I don't know."

"Ayla, why don't you come with me. This is Tremeda's daughter, Lanoga. Bologan is her eldest brother," Zelandoni said.

"Isn't Tremeda Laramar's mate?" Ayla asked.

"Yes," Zelandoni said as they hurried off together.