The Shelters of Stone (100 page)

“I wonder where he got that white tunic. I wouldn’t mind one like it,” Kimeran said.

“I think every man here must feel that way, though I think you’d be one of the few who might wear it as well, Kimeran,” she said. In her opinion, her brother was not only as tall and fair as his friend Jondalar, he was as handsome, or nearly so. “Jondecam looks wonderful, too. I’m glad he kept his beard this summer. He looks so good in it.”

After the men lined up, forming a semicircle around one side of the huge bonfire, it was the women’s turn. Ayla strained to see out when the entrance drape was finally opened. It was almost evening. The sun, not quite set, overwhelmed the large ceremonial fire with its coruscating brilliance and made indistinct the torches that had been placed around the area. They would be welcome enough later. She could see several people near the fire. The large figure with her back to her had to be Zelandoni. A signal was given and the women came out.

The moment Ayla stepped outside the lodge, she saw the tall figure in the white leather. As they formed a semicircle opposite the men, she said to herself, He’s wearing it! He’s wearing my tunic. Everyone was dressed in his finest, but no one else was wearing white, and he stood out from all the rest. In her mind, he was by far the most beautiful … no, the most handsome man there. Most agreed with her. She saw him looking at her across the intervening distance, well lighted by the large fire, and he was staring as though he couldn’t look anyplace else.

She is so beautiful, he thought. She had never looked so beautiful. The deep straw-colored, dark golden-yellow tunic Nezzie had made for her, with pale ivory highlights of
decorative beads, almost perfectly matched her hair, which tumbled down loosely, the way he liked it best.

Her only jewelry were the amber earrings in her newly pierced ears—the matched ambers from Tulie, he remembered—and the amber-and-shell necklace Marthona had given to her. The brilliant yellow-orange stones picked up highlights from the setting sun and shone resplendently between her bare breasts. The tunic, open in front but cinched at the waist, was unlike any of the others, but it suited Ayla perfectly.

Marthona, watching from the front of the audience, was pleasantly surprised when her son appeared in the white tunic. She knew the garment he had originally chosen, and it wasn’t hard to conclude that the white tunic was in the package she had delivered to Jondalar. The lack of decoration enhanced the simple purity of the color, which was embellishment enough. It didn’t need any more, although the ermine tails were a nice touch. She had seen the few bowls and implements Ayla used and noticed her penchant for simple but well-made objects. The white tunic was an outstanding example of that. There was something to be said for letting quality be its own adornment.

The simplicity of his outfit also made a striking contrast to hers. Marthona was certain that attempts would be made to copy Ayla’s outfit by more than one of the women watching, though probably none would get it quite right. She had examined it carefully when Ayla first showed it to her and knew the exquisite quality of the workmanship. Her outfit displayed wealth in the only way that had meaning for the Zelandonii: the time it took to make it. From the quality of the leather to the amber and the shells and the teeth, to the several thousand individually hand-carved ivory beads, this mating outfit was going to prove her case for Ayla’s high status. Her son’s hearth would be among the first.

Jondalar had eyes for no one but Ayla. Her eyes were bright, her mouth partly open to help fill her lungs, heaving with excitement. It was the look she wore when she was awed by something beautiful, or excited by the hunt, and Jondalar
felt the blood draw to his loins. She is a golden woman, Jondalar thought. Golden like the sun. He wanted her, and he could hardly believe that this sensuously beautiful woman was going to be his mate. His mate … he liked the sound of that. She would share the home he planned to surprise her with. Would the ceremony ever begin? Would it ever end? He didn’t want to wait, he wanted to run over to her, pick her up, and carry her off.

The zelandonia had gathered around, and the First began a haunting chant. Then another Zelandoni joined in with a steady tone, and then a third. Each donier chose a sound, a tone with a pitch and timbre that sometimes varied in a repetitive melody, but that each was comfortable with sustaining. As the Zelandoni who would join the first couple began to speak, a whole chorus was maintaining a soft, continuous chant in the background, each one making a distinct tone. The combination might or might not be harmonic, it didn’t matter. Before the first one got out of breath, another voice would join in, and then another, and another at random intervals. The result was a droning, interweaving fugue of tones that could go on indefinitely, if there were enough people to provide sufficient rest for those people who had to stop for a while.

Though it was only in the background, the pleasant drone filled his mind as Jondalar stared, entranced, at the woman he loved. He hardly heard the words spoken by the zelandonia for the first few couples. Then he felt a slight poke from the man behind him, and jumped. They were saying his name. He walked toward the massive figure of Zelandoni, watching Ayla coming to meet him. They stood facing each other on opposite sides of the donier.

Zelandoni looked approvingly at both of them. Jondalar was the tallest of the men, and she had always thought he was by far the most attractive man she had ever seen. Though he was hardly more than a boy those many years ago, it was one reason she had chosen to teach him Doni’s Gift of Pleasure when it was his time to learn. And he had learned well, almost
too well. He had almost convinced her not to follow her calling.

She was glad now that circumstances had intervened, but looking at him in that spectacular white tunic, she knew again why he had almost persuaded her. She wondered where he had gotten the white tunic, no doubt on his Journey. The color, of course, immediately caught the eye, but it was also unusual in design, and its very lack of decoration made it exotic. He matched the woman he had chosen. She turned to look at Ayla.

And she matched him. No, she surpassed him, and that was not easy, Zelandoni thought. The donier would have been disappointed had he chosen someone not up to her opinion of him, but Zelandoni had to admit he had not only found a woman who was his equal, he had gone one better. She knew they were the center of attention, for many reasons. Everyone knew them, or knew who they were, they had been the talk of the Summer Meeting, and they were by far the handsomest couple there.

It was right, fitting, that she, First Among Those Who Served The Mother, should conduct the ceremony and be the one to tie the knot for the most outstanding pair. Zelandoni herself was a presence to be reckoned with. The tattooed design on her forehead had been reinforced with stronger colors, her hair was carefully, if somewhat oudandishly, styled, which appeared to make the tall woman even taller, and the heavily decorated long tunic was a work of art that almost needed a person of her size to be displayed adequately. All eyes were drawn to the trio, and Zelandoni paused to heighten the dramatic impact.

Marthona had stepped forward to stand beside her son, with her present mate, Willamar, on her right and a pace behind. On her left was Dalanar, and just behind him was Jerika. They would have to wait until the very end before her daughter, Joplaya, and Echozar would be mated. Arrayed beside Willamar were Folara and Joharran, Jondalar’s sister and brother. Near Joharran was Proleva and her son, Jaradal. Many other friends and relatives were in the audience nearby
in a place set aside for the use of the couple during their ceremony. Zelandoni looked at them all, then up at the large crowd on the slope before she began.

“All Caves of the Zelandonii,” the donier said in a solemn resonant voice. “You are called upon to share in witnessing the joining of a woman and a man. Doni, Great Earth Mother, First Creator, the Mother of All, She Who gave birth to Bali, who lights the sky, and She Whose mate and friend, Lumi, shines down upon us this night in witness with Her. She is honored by the sacred joining of Her children.”

Ayla glanced up at the moon. It was gibbous, slightly more than half-full, and she suddenly realized it was dark out. The sun had set some time before, but the huge bonfire and many torches made it seem almost bright as day.

“The two standing here have pleased the Great Earth Mother by choosing to join together. Jondalar of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandomi. Son of Marthona, former Leader of the Ninth Cave, now mated to Willamar, Trading Master of the Zelandonii, born to the Hearth of Dalanar, Founder and Leader of the Lanzadonii, Brother of Joharran, Leader of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii…”

Ayla’s mind couldn’t help but wander as Zelandoni continued with the long, full recitation of Jondalar’s names and ties, most of whom she didn’t know. This was one of the few times when all his connections would be stated. Her attention was caught again when the donier’s tone changed after the long litany.

“ … do you choose Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, Blessed of Doni, and Honored by Her Blessing…” There was an undercurrent of murmuring. It was a lucky mating. She was already pregnant. “ … formerly 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 named Whinney and Racer, and the four-legged hunter, Wolf.”

Ayla wondered where Wolf was. He’d been gone all afternoon and evening, and she was disappointed. She knew it
wouldn’t mean much to him, but she had hoped he would be there for her mating.

“…Accepted by Joharran, Brother of Jondalar and Leader of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, and by Marthona, Mother of Jondalar and former Leader of the Ninth Cave, Approved by Dalanar, Founder and Leader of the Lanzadonii, man of the hearth at Jondalar’s birth…”

Zelandonii continued naming most of Jondalar’s kin. Ayla didn’t realize she was gaining so many new ties with this mating, but Zelandoni wished there were more. She had had to think long and hard to come up with enough legitimate ties to make the ritual appropriate. Ayla brought so few with her.

“I choose her,” Jondalar was responding, facing Ayla.

“Will you respect her, care for her when she is sick, provide for her when she is with child, and help provide for all of the children born to your hearth while you are living together?” Zelandoni intoned.

“I will respect her, care for her, provide for her and her children,” Jondalar said.

“And Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, formerly 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, Accepted by the Ninth Cave of thé Zelandonii, do you choose Jondalar of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, Son of Marthona, former Leader of the Ninth Cave, now mated to Willamar, Trading Master of the Zelandonii, born to the Hearth of Dalanar, Founder and Leader of the Lanzadonii.” Zelandonii had decided to name only the essential ties, rather than making a second recitation of all of them. Ayla was relieved—along with most of the people there.

“I choose him,” Ayla said, looking at Jondalar. Her words resounded in her head. I choose him. I choose him. I chose him a long time ago, now I can finally choose him.

“Will you respect him, care for him when he is sick, teach your children to respect him as befits your mate and their provider, including the one Doni has already Blessed you with?” Zelandoni continued.

“I will respect him, care for him, and teach my children to respect him,” Ayla said.

Zelandoni made a signal. “Who has the authority to approve the joining of this man to this woman?”

Marthona took a few steps forward. “I, Marthona, former Leader of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, have the authority. I agree to the mating of my son, Jondalar, with Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii,” she said.

Then Willamar stepped forward. “I, Willamar, Master Trader of the Zelandonii, mated to Marthona, former Leader of the Ninth Cave, also agree to this mating.” Willamar’s agreement wasn’t essential, but his inclusion in the ceremony added approval to the mating of his mate’s son to a foreign woman and made it easier to include Marthona’s former mate, who was taking a step forward.

“I, Dalanar, Founder and Leader of the Lanzadonii, man of the hearth at Jondalar’s birth, also agree to this mating of Jondalar, the son of my former mate, with Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, formerly Ayla of the Mamutoi.”

Dalanar gave Ayla a look of appreciation that was so much like Jondalar’s, she almost smiled as she felt her body respond the same way. It was not the first time. Dalanar and Jondalar not only looked alike, except for the age difference, to Ayla they felt alike. Then she couldn’t resist and smiled at the older man, one of her radiant smiles that seemed to beam like a light from within, and for just a moment, he almost wished he could trade places with the son of his mate. Then he looked at Jondalar and saw a smirking grin. That boy knew just what he was feeling and couldn’t wait to tease him about it! He almost laughed out loud.

“I approve without question!” Dalanar added.

“Who has the authority to approve the joining of this woman with this man?” Zelandoni asked.

“I, Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, formerly Ayla of the Mamutoi, Member of the Lion Camp and Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth, have the authority to speak on my own behalf. The authority was given to me by the Mamut of the Mammoth Hearth, eldest and most respected
of all the marmiti, by Talut, headman of the Lion Camp, and by his sister, Tulie, headwoman of the Lion Camp. In their name, I agree to this mating with Jondalar of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandomi,” Ayla said. That had been the part she was most nervous about, to memorize and repeat the words she was supposed to say.

“Mamut of the Mammoth Hearth, the One Who Serves The Mother for the Mamutoi,” Zelandoni said, “gave the Daughter of his Hearth the freedom to decide for herself. As One Who Serves The Mother for the Zelandonii, I can also speak for Mamut. Ayla has chosen to mate with Jondalar, therefore her decision is the same as Mamut’s agreement.” Then Zelandoni said, throwing her voice so all could hear, “Who speaks for this couple?”