“Do you have much?” Marthona couldn’t resist asking.
“Only two necklaces, including the one from you, an armband, two spiral shells for my ears, given to me by a woman who dances, and two matched pieces of amber that Tulie gave me when I left. She was the headwoman of the Lion Camp, Talut’s sister, and Deegie’s mother. She thought I should wear them on my ears at my mating, since they would match the tunic. I would like to, but my ears are not pierced,” Ayla said.
“I’m sure Zelandoni would be happy to pierce them for you, if you want,” Marthona said.
“I think I would. I don’t want any other piercings, at least not yet, but I would like to wear the matched ambers when Jondalar and I are mated, and the outfit from Nezzie.”
“This Nezzie must have been quite fond of you to have done so much for you,” Marthona commented.
“I certainly was fond of her,” Ayla replied. “If it hadn’t been for Nezzie, I don’t think I would have followed Jondalar when he left. I was supposed to mate with Ranee the next day. He was the son of her brother’s hearth, although she was more like a mother to him. But Nezzie knew Jondalar loved me, and she told me that if I really loved him to go after him and tell him so. She was right. It was hard to tell Ranee I was leaving, though. I did care for him, very much, but I loved Jondalar.”
“You must have, or you would not have left people who held you in such high regard to come home with him,” Marthona said.
Ayla noticed Jondalar shifting around again and stood up. Marthona sipped her tea, watching the young woman as she refolded her Matrimonial outfit, then the woven tunic, and put them in her traveling pack. When she returned, she motioned toward her sewing kit, which was on the table.
“My thread-puller is in that,” Ayla explained. “Perhaps we can go out in the sunlight after Jondalar’s morning tea is ready, and I’ll show it to you.”
“Yes, I would like to see it.”
Ayla went around to the cooking hearth, added wood to the fire, then some cooking stones to heat, and measured out some dried herbs in the palm of her hand for Jondalar’s tea. His mother was thinking that her first impression of Ayla was right. She was attractive, but there was more to her than that. She seemed genuinely concerned about Jondalar’s welfare. She would make a good mate for him.
Ayla was thinking about Marthona, admiring her quiet, self-assured dignity and regal grace. She felt that Jondalar’s mother had a great depth of understanding, but Ayla was sure that the woman who had been leader could be very strong if she had to be. No wonder her people hadn’t wanted her to step down after her mate died, the young woman thought. It must have been difficult for Joharran to follow after her, but he seemed comfortable in the position now, as far as she could tell.
Ayla quietly placed Jondalar’s cup of hot tea near him, thinking she would have to find some of the twigs he liked to use to clean his teeth, after he chewed the ends. He liked the taste of wintergreen. She would look for the evergreen that resembled willow the first chance she had. Marthona finished her tea, Ayla picked up her sewing kit, and both women slipped quietly out of the dwelling. Wolf followed them.
It was still early when they reached the stone front terrace. The sun had just opened its brilliant eye and peeked over the edge of the eastern hills. Its bright glare gave the rock of the cliff a warm ruddy glow, but the air was refreshingly cool. Not many people were moving about yet.
Marthona led them toward the edge near the dark circle of the signal fire. They sat on some large rocks that had been arranged around it, with their backs to the blinding radiance that was climbing through the red-and-gold haze to the cloudless blue vault. Wolf left them and continued down to Wood River Valley.
Ayla untied the drawstring of her sewing kit, a small leather bag sewn together around the sides and gathered at the top. Missing ivory beads that had once formed a geometrie
pattern and frayed threads of embroidery betrayed the heavy use of the worn pouch. She emptied the small objects it contained into her lap. There were various sizes of cords and threads made of plant fibers, sinew, and animal hair, including several of the wool of mammoth, mouflon, musk ox, and rhino, each wound around small bone phalanges. Several small, sharp blades of flint used for cutting were tied together with sinew, as was a bundle of awls of bone and flint that were for piercing. A small square of tough mammoth hide served as a thimble. The last objects were three small tubes made of hollow bird bones.
She picked up a tube, removed a diminutive wad of leather from one end, and tipped the contents into her hand. A small tapering shaft of ivory slid out, with a point at one end—similar to an awl, but with a tiny hole at the other end. She handed it carefully to Marthona.
“Do you see the hole?” Ayla asked.
Marthona held it away from her. “I can’t really see it well,” she said, then brought it closer and felt the small object, first the sharp point, then along the shaft to the opposite end. “Ah! There it is! I can feel it. That’s a very small hole, not much bigger than the hole of a bead.”
“The Mamutoi do pierce beads, but no one at Lion Camp was a skilled bead-maker. Jondalar made the boring tool used to make the hole. I think that was the most difficult part of making this thread-puller. I didn’t bring anything to sew, but I’ll show you how it works,” Ayla said, taking it back. She selected the bone phalange that held sinew, unwound a length, wet the end in her mouth, deftly poked it through the hole, and pulled it through. Then she handed it to Marthona.
The woman looked at the threaded needle, but saw more with her hands than with her aging eyes, which could still see objects that were far away quite well, but not nearly so well as those that were near. Her frown of concentration as she examined it suddenly brightened to a smile of understanding. “Of course!” she said. “With this I believe I could sew again!”
“On some things, you need to make a hole with an awl first. As sharp as you can make it, the ivory point won’t pierce
thick or tough leather very easily,” Ayla explained, “but it’s still better than trying to get the thread through a hole without it. I could make holes, but I just couldn’t learn how to pick up the thread through the hole with the point of an awl, no matter how patient Nezzie and Deegie were.”
Marthona smiled in agreement, then looked puzzled. “Most young girls have that trouble when they are learning; didn’t you learn to sew when you were young?”
“The Clan doesn’t sew, not in the same way. They wear wraps that are tied on. A few things are knotted together, like birch bark containers, but they have rather large holes to pull through the cords that are tied together, not like the fine little holes that Nezzie wanted me to make,” Ayla said.
“I keep forgetting your childhood was … unusual,” Marthona said. “If you didn’t learn to sew as a girl, I can see how it would be difficult, but this is a remarkably clever device.” She looked up. “I think Proleva is coming this way. I would like to show her, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Ayla said. Glancing at the sunny terrace in front of the overhang, she saw Joharran’s mate and Salova, Rushemar’s mate, coming toward them, and noticed that many more people were up and moving about.
The women greeted each other, then Marthona said, “Look at this, Proleva. You, too, Salova. Ayla calls it a ‘thread-puller.’ She was just showing it to me. It’s very clever, and I think it will help me to sew again, even if I can’t see close very clearly anymore. I’ll be able to do it by feel.”
The two women, who had both constructed many garments in their lives, quickly grasped the concept of the new implement and were soon discussing its potential with excitement.
“Learning to use this will be easy, I think,” Salova said. “But making this thread-puller must have been difficult.”
“Jondalar helped with this one. He made the fine boring tool to drill the small hole,” Ayla explained.
“It would take someone with his skill. Before he left, I remember that he made flint awls and some boring tools for piercing beads,” Proleva said. “I think Salova’s right. It might
be hard to make a thread-puller like this, but I’m sure it would be worth the effort. I’d like to try one.”
“I’d be happy to let you try this one, Proleva, and I have two others, of different sizes,” Ayla said. “The size I choose depends on what I want to sew.”
“Thank you, but I don’t think I’ll have time today with all the planning for the hunt. Joharran thinks this Summer Meeting is going to be especially well attended,” Proleva said, then smiled at Ayla, “because of you. The news that Jondalar has returned and brought a woman back with him is already running up and down The River, and beyond. He wants to make sure that we bring enough to feed the extra people when we sponsor a feast.”
“And everyone will be excited to meet you, to see if the stories about you are true,” Salova said, smiling. She had felt the same way.
“By the time we get there, they won’t be true,” Proleva said. “Stories always grow.”
“But most people know that, and don’t believe half of the stories to begin with. I think Jondalar and Ayla will manage to surprise a few people this year,” Marthona said.
Proleva noticed a rare expression on the face of the former leader of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, a sly and rather self-satisfied smile. She wondered what Marthona knew that no one else did.
“Are you coming with us to Two Rivers Rock today, Marthona?” Proleva asked.
“Yes. I think I will. I would like to see a demonstration of this ‘spear-thrower’ Jondalar has been talking about. If it’s as clever as this thread-pulling device,” Marthona said, and recalling her fire-making experience of the night before, “and other ideas they’ve brought back with them, it should be interesting.”
Joharran led the way around a steep section of rock that was close to The River, which made everyone walk single file. Marthona followed behind him, and as she looked at the back of her eldest son, she was feeling rather pleased to know that
she not only had a son walking in front of her, but for the first time in many years, her son Jondalar was behind her. Ayla followed Jondalar, with Wolf on her heels. Other people from the Ninth Cave trailed them, but left a gap of several paces behind the wolf. More people joined them as they passed by the Fourteenth Cave.
They came to a place along The River between the shelters of the Fourteenth Cave on their side and Eleventh Cave on the other side where the waterway broadened out and foamed around rocks jutting out of the water. The River was easily fordable there, shallow enough to wade across, and the location that most people used to get to the other side. Ayla heard people refer to it as the Crossing.
Some of those who wore foot coverings sat down to take them off. Others were barefoot like Ayla, or apparently didn’t care if their footwear got wet. The people from the Fourteenth Cave held back and allowed Joharran and the Ninth Cave to start across first. It was a courtesy to him, since Joharran was the one who had suggested a last hunt before they left for the Summer Meeting and was nominally the leader.
As Jondalar stepped into the cold water, he was reminded of something he had wanted to tell his brother. “Joharran, wait a moment,” he called. The man stopped. Marthona was beside him. “When we went with the Lion Camp to the Summer Meeting of the Mamutoi, we had to cross a rather deep river just before we reached the place where the Meeting was held. The people of Wolf Camp, who were hosting the Meeting, had put piles of rock and gravel in the water to make stepping-stones so people could cross the river without getting wet. I know we sometimes do, too, but their river was so deep, you could fish between the stones. I thought it was a clever idea and wanted to remember to tell someone when I got back.”
“This river runs fast. Wouldn’t it wash the stones away?” Joharran asked.
“Their river was fast, too, and deep enough for salmon and sturgeon, other fish, too. The water flowed through the
spaces between. They said the rocks washed out when it flooded, but they built new stepping-stones every year. It was good fishing off the rock piles near the middle of the river,” Jondalar explained. Other people had stopped and were listening, too.
“Perhaps it’s worth considering,” Marthona said.
“What about the rafts? Wouldn’t stepping-stones get in the way?” a man asked.
“It’s not deep enough here for the rafts most of the time. People usually have to carry them and whatever is on them around the Crossing any way,” Joharran said.
As Ayla waited while the discussion continued, she observed that the water was clear enough to see rocks on the bottom and an occasional fish. Then she realized that the middle of the stream offered a unique view of the area. Looking ahead, south, on the left bank of The River, she saw a cliff with shelters that was probably the place they were going, and just beyond it, a tributary joining the mainstream. Across the smaller river was the start of a line of steep cliffs that paralleled the main river. She turned and looked the other way. Upriver, toward the north she could see more high cliffs and the huge rock shelter of the Ninth Cave situated on the right bank at the outside of a sharp bend.
Joharran started out again, leading the long line of people that were headed toward the home of the Third Cave of the Zelandonii. Ayla noticed some people waiting ahead, waving at them. She recognized Kareja and the Zelandoni of the Eleventh among them. The line lengthened as they fell in behind. As they drew near the high cliff ahead, Ayla got a better look at the huge rock wall, one of many spectacular limestone cliffs in the valley of The River.
It had been carved, by the same natural forces that had created all the rock shelters in the region, into two and in places three levels of terraces stacked one above the other. Halfway up the massive rock ahead was a shelf more than three hundred feet long in front of a sheltered opening. It was the main level for the ordinary living activities of the Third Cave, and most of the dwellings were located there. The
terrace offered the protection of a rocky ceiling to the abri below, while it in turn was sheltered by an overhanging cliff above.