Joharran turned and smiled at the woman standing on the raised stone with him, but then he looked at the tall blond man and his expression became more serious. "Jondalar of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, Master Flint-Knapper; Son of Marthona, former Leader of the Ninth Cave; born to the Hearth of Dalanar, Leader and Founder of the Lanzadonii; Brother of Joharran, Leader of the Ninth Cave, has returned after five years from a long and difficult Journey. He has brought with him a woman from a land so distant, it took a full year just to make the Journey back."

The leader of the Ninth Cave took both of Ayla's hands in his. "In the name of Doni, the Great Earth Mother, I present to all the Zelandonii, Ayla of the Mamutoi, Member of the Lion Camp, Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth, Chosen by the Spirit of the Cave Lion, and Protected by the Spirit of the Cave Bear," then he smiled, "and as we have seen, Friend of horses and this wolf." Jondalar was convinced the wolf smiled, as though he knew he had been introduced.

Ayla of the Mamutoi, she thought, remembering when she was Ayla of No People and feeling a great swelling of grat.i.tude toward Talut and Nezzie and the rest of the Lion Camp for giving her a place to claim. She struggled to hold back the tears that threatened. She missed them all.

Joharran dropped one of Ayla's hands, but, holding up the other, faced out toward the a.s.sembled Caves. "Please welcome this woman who traveled so far with Jondalar, welcome her to this land of the Zelandonii, the Great Mother Earth's Children. Show this woman the hospitality and respect with which the Zelandonii honor all their guests, especially one of the Blessed of Doni. Let her know we value our visitors."

There were sidelong glances in the direction of Marona and her friends. The joke wasn't at all funny anymore. It was their turn to feel embarra.s.sed, and Portula, at least, turned crimson when she looked up at the foreign woman standing on the Speaking Stone wearing a Zelandonii boy's underwear and p.u.b.erty belt. She hadn't known the clothing she was given was inappropriate. It didn't matter. The way she wore it made it entirely proper.

Then Ayla, feeling a need to do something, took a small step forward. "In the name of Mut, Great Mother of All, whom you know as Doni, I greet you Zelandonii, Children of this beautiful land, Children of the Great Earth Mother, and thank you for welcoming me. I thank you, too, for accepting my animal friends into your midst; for allowing Wolf to stay with me inside a dwelling." Wolf looked up at her at the sound of his name. "And for providing a place for the horses, Whinney and Racer."

The immediate reaction of the crowd was startled surprise. Though her accent was quite noticeable, it wasn't the way she spoke that astonished the people. In the spirit of the formality of the introductions, Ayla said the name of her mare the way she had originally given it to Whinney, and they were stunned by the sound that had come out of her mouth. Ayla had made such a perfect horse's whinny that for a moment, they thought it was a horse. It was not the first time she had surprised people with her ability to imitate the sound of an animal-a horse was not the only animal she could mimic.

Ayla had no memory of the language she had known as a child; she could not remember anything about her life before the Clan, except a few vague dreams and a mortal fear of earthquakes. But Ayla's kind had an inherent compulsion, a genetic drive nearly as strong as hunger, for verbal speech. When she was living alone in the valley after she left the Clan and before she had learned to speak again from Jondalar, she developed verbalizations for herself to which she attributed meaning, a language only she, and Whinney and Racer to some extent, could understand.

Ayla had a natural apt.i.tude for reproducing sounds, but having no verbal language and living alone, hearing only the sounds made by animals, she began to mimic them. The personal language she devised was a combination of the baby sounds her son had begun to make before she was forced to leave him, the few words spoken by the Clan, and onomatopoeic mimicking of the sounds made by animals, including bird whistles. Time and practice had made her so proficient at imitating their sounds, even the animals could not tell the difference.

Many people could imitate animals, it was a useful hunting strategy if the mimic was good enough, but she was so good, it was uncanny. That was what caused the moment of consternation, but the people, who were used to a certain element of banter from speakers when the occasion wasn't entirely serious, became convinced she had made the sound as a gesture of humor. The initial shock gave way to smiles and chuckles as they relaxed.

Ayla, who had been a bit apprehensive at their first reaction, noticed the easing of tension and relaxed in turn. When they smiled at her, she could not help but smile back, one of her glorious, beautiful smiles that seemed to make her glow.

"Jondalar, with a filly like that, how are you going to keep the young stallions away?" a voice called out. It was the first open acknowledgment of her beauty and appeal.

The yellow-haired man smiled. "I'll have to take her out riding often, keep her busy," he said. "You know that I learned how to ride while I was gone, don't you?"

"Jondalar, you knew how to 'ride' before you left!"

There was a burst of laughter; this time, Ayla realized, the laughter was meant in fun.

Joharran spoke up when it settled down. "I have only one more thing to say," he said. "I want to invite all the Zelandonii who have come from neighboring Caves to join the Ninth Cave in the feast we have prepared to welcome Jondalar and Ayla home."

7.

Marvelous aromas had been emanating from community cooking areas at the unoccupied far southwestern end of the abri all day, stimulating everyone's appet.i.te, and a number of people had been busy with last minute preparations before Joharran began to speak. After the introductions, as the throng pressed toward the far end, Jondalar and Ayla were urged ahead, although the crowd was careful to allow s.p.a.ce around the wolf, who followed a step behind the woman.

The food was attractively arranged on platters and in bowls of shaped bone, woven gra.s.s and fiber, and carved wood and displayed on long, low tables made of blocks and slabs of limestone. Bent wood tongs, carved horn spoons, and large flint knives were conveniently nearby, ready to be used as serving implements. Most people brought their own eating dishes, though there were extras for those who needed them.

Ayla stopped to admire the display for a moment. There were whole roasted haunches of young reindeer, plump grouse, platters of trout and pike, and, even more prized during the early summer season, servings of still scarce vegetables: young roots, fresh greens, new shoots, and tightly coiled young ferns. Edible sweet milkweed flowers added a pleasing decoration to many of the dishes. There were also nuts and dried fruits from the previous autumn's harvest, and containers of rich broth with chunks of reconst.i.tuted dried aurochs meat, roots, and mushrooms.

The thought struck Ayla that if they still had such prized food left after living through the rigors of the long winter, it spoke well, indeed, for their ability to organize the collection, preservation, storage, and distribution of adequate provisions to maintain the several Caves of Zelandonii throughout the cold season. The two hundred or so people of the Ninth Cave alone would have been too large a community for a less productive region to sustain year-round, but the exceptionally rich environment, as well as the large number of unusually convenient and serviceable natural shelters, encouraged the growing population of several Caves.

The home of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii was a high limestone cliff whose face was carved by weather and wear into an enormous, overhanging shelf that went from slightly south of due east to almost southwest in a long, shallow, south-facing curve that followed The River. The jutting overhang sheltered an area six hundred fifty feet in length and almost one hundred fifty feet in depth, offering nearly one hundred thousand square feet of covered living s.p.a.ce. The stone floor of the abri beneath, layered with centuries of packed dirt and stone nibble, extended as a terrace or front porch somewhat beyond the edge of the huge rock ledge.

With so much s.p.a.ce available, the members of the Ninth Cave did not fill up the entire protected area with living structures. No one made a purposeful decision to do so, but perhaps intuitively to lay claim and declare boundaries distinct from the adjacent area where the craftspeople of the vicinity tended to congregate, the residential dwellings of the Ninth Cave were cl.u.s.tered at the eastern end of the abri. Since they had plenty of room to spread out, the site immediately to the west of the dwellings was used for the community workplaces. Southwest of that, and continuing toward the end, was a large unoccupied s.p.a.ce for children to play and for people to gather outside of their dwellings yet still be protected from inclement weather.

Though none of the others approached the size of the Ninth Cave, there were many other Zelandonii Caves along The River and its tributaries, most of them living, at least in winter, in similar sheltered limestone abris with capacious front porches of the same material. Though the people didn't know it, and their descendants wouldn't even think in such terms for many millennia, the location of the land of the Zelandonii was halfway between the North Pole and the equator. They didn't need to know it to understand the benefits of their middle-lat.i.tude position. They had lived there for many generations and had learned from experience, pa.s.sed down through example and lore, that the territory had advantages in all seasons, if one knew how to utilize them.

In summer, people tended to travel around the larger region that they thought of as Zelandonii land, usually living in the open in tents or lodges constructed of natural materials, especially when gathering together into larger groups and often when visiting or hunting or harvesting quant.i.ties of vegetable produce. But when they could, they were always happy to find a south-facing stone shelter to use temporarily, or to share the shelters of friends and kin, because of their distinct advantages.

Even during the Ice Age, when the leading edge of the nearest ma.s.s of ice was only a few hundred miles to the north, clear days could get quite hot at middle lat.i.tudes in the warm season. As the sun pa.s.sed overhead, seeming to circle the great mother planet, it rode high in the southwest sky. The great protective overhanging cliff of the Ninth Cave, and others that faced south or southwest, cast a shadow beneath it in the heat of midday, offering a respite of enticing cool shade.

And when the weather began to chill, heralding the severe season of intense cold in periglacial territories, they welcomed their more permanent and protected homes. During the glacial winters, though sharp winds and temperatures well below freezing prevailed, the bitter cold days were often dry and clear. The shining orb hung low in the sky then, and the long rays of the afternoon sun could penetrate deep into a south-facing shelter to lay a kiss of solar warmth on the receptive stone. The great limestone abri cherished its precious gift, holding it until evening, when the nip of frost bit deeper, then it gave back its warmth to the protected s.p.a.ce.

Proper clothing and fire were essential to survival on the northern continents when glaciers covered nearly a quarter of the earth's surface, but in the land of the Zelandonii pa.s.sive solar heat made a significant contribution toward warming their living s.p.a.ce. The huge cliffs with their protective shelters were a significant reason the region was among the most heavily populated in all that cold ancient world.

Ayla smiled at the woman responsible for organizing the feast. "It looks so beautiful, Proleva. If the wonderful smells hadn't made me so hungry, I would just like to look at it."

Proleva smiled back, pleased.

"That is her specialty," Marthona said. Ayla turned, somewhat surprised to see Jondalar's mother; she had looked for her before she stepped down from the Speaking Stone but couldn't find her. "No one can put together a feast or a gathering like Proleva. She's a good cook, too, but it's her skill at organizing the contributions of food and help from other people that makes her such an a.s.set to Joharran and the Ninth Cave."

"I learned from you, Marthona," Proleva said, obviously delighted at the high praise from the mother of her mate.

"You have more than outdone me. I was never as good at making feasts as you have become," Marthona said.

Ayla noticed the very specific reference to making feasts and recalled that Marthona's "specialty" had not been organizing feasts and gatherings. Her organizing skills had been utilized as the leader of the Ninth Cave before Joharran.

"I hope you let me help you next time, Proleva," Ayla said. "I would like to learn from you."

"I'd be happy to have your help next time, but since this feast is for you, and people are waiting for you to start, can I serve you some of this young reindeer roast?"

"What about your wolf-animal?" Marthona asked. "Would he like some meat?"

"He would, but he doesn't need tender young meat. He would probably be happy with a bone, if there is one with a little meat left on it that isn't needed for soup," Ayla said.

"There are several by the cooking fires over there," Proleva said, "but do take a slice of this reindeer and some daylily buds for yourself first."

Ayla held out her eating bowl to accept the piece of meat and ladle of hot green vegetables, then Proleva called another woman to come and serve the food and walked with Ayla toward the cooking hearths, staying on her left side, away from Wolf. She led them to the bones piled to one side of a large hearth and helped Ayla pick out a broken long bone with a shiny k.n.o.b at one end. The marrow had been extracted, but pieces of brownish drying raw meat were still clinging to it.

"This will do fine," Ayla said, while the wolf eyed her with tongue-lolling antic.i.p.ation. "Would you like to give it to him, Proleva?"

Proleva frowned nervously. She didn't want to be impolite to Ayla, especially after Marona's trick, but she wasn't eager to give a bone to a wolf.

"I would," Marthona said, knowing it would make everyone less fearful to see her do it. "What should I do?"

"You can hold it out to him, or you can toss it to him," Ayla said. She noticed that several people, including Jondalar, had joined them. He had an amused smile on his face.

Marthona took the bone and held it out toward the animal as he approached, then with a change of mind, she tossed it in the general direction of the wolf. He jumped up and grabbed it in the air with his teeth, a trick that drew appreciative comments, then he looked at Ayla expectantly.

"Take it over there, Wolf," she said, signaling him as well, indicating the big charred stump at the edge of the terrace. The wolf carried the bone like a prized possession, settled himself near the stump, and began to gnaw on it.

When they went back to the serving tables, everyone wanted to give Ayla and Jondalar samples of special treats, which she noticed had a different variety of tastes from the ones she had known in her childhood. One thing she had learned on her travels, however, was that whatever foods the people of a region liked best, while they might be unusual, they generally tasted good.

A man, somewhat older than Jondalar, approached the group that surrounded Ayla. Though Ayla thought he appeared rather slovenly-his unwashed blond hair was dark with grease, and his clothing was grimy and needed repair-many people smiled at him, particularly the young men. He carried a container, similar to a waterbag, over his shoulder. It had been made from the nearly waterproof stomach of an animal and was full of liquid, which distended its shape.

By the size of it, Ayla guessed the container had probably come from the stomach of a horse; it did not appear to have the distinctive contours of a waterbag made from a ruminant with a multiple-chambered stomach. And by the smell, she knew it did not contain water. Rather, the odor reminded her of Talut's bouza, the fermented drink that the headman of the Lion Camp made out of birch sap and other ingredients-which he liked to keep secret but usually included grains of some kind.

A young man who had been hovering near Ayla looked up and smiled broadly. "Laramar!" he said. "Have you brought some of your barma?"

Jondalar was glad to see him distracted. He didn't know him, but had learned the man's name was Charezal. He was a new member of the Ninth Cave who had come from a rather distant group of Zelandonii, and quite young. He probably hadn't even met his first donii-woman when I left, Jondalar thought, but he had been fluttering around Ayla like a gnat.

"Yes. I thought I would make a contribution to the Welcome Feast for this young woman," Laramar said, smiling at Ayla.

His smile seemed insincere, which aroused her Clan sensitivity. She paid closer attention to the language his body spoke and quickly decided this was not a man to be trusted.

"A contribution?" one of the women asked with a hint of sarcasm. Ayla thought it was Salova, the mate of Rushemar, one of the two men whom she regarded as Joharran's seconds in command, as Grod had been Brim's in the Clan. Leaders needed someone they could rely on, she had decided.

"I thought it was the least I could do," Laramar said. "It isn't often that a Cave can welcome someone from so far away."

As he lifted the heavy bag from his shoulder and turned to put it down on a nearby stone table, Ayla overheard the woman mutter under her breath, "And even less often that Laramar contributes anything. I wonder what he wants."

It seemed obvious to Ayla that she was not alone in mistrusting the man. Others did not trust him, either. It made her curious about him. People with cups in hand were already gathering around him, but he made a point of singling out Ayla and Jondalar.

"I think the returned traveler and the woman he brought with him should get the first drinks," Laramar said.

"They can hardly refuse such a great honor," Salova murmured.

Ayla barely heard the scornful comment and wondered if anyone else did. But the woman was right. They could not refuse. Ayla looked at Jondalar, who pointedly emptied the water from his cup and nodded toward the man. She emptied her cup as they walked up to Laramar.

"Thank you," Jondalar said, smiling. Ayla thought his smile was as insincere as Laramar's. "This is very thoughtful of you. Everyone knows your barma is the best, Laramar. Have you met Ayla yet?"

"Along with everyone else," he said, "but I haven't really been introduced."

"Ayla, of the Mamutoi, this is Laramar of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii. It is true. No one makes barma better than his," Jondalar said.

Ayla thought it seemed a rather limited formal introduction, but the man smiled at the praise. She handed Jondalar her cup to free both of her hands and held them out to the man. "In the name of the Great Earth Mother I greet you, Laramar of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii," she said.

"And I welcome you," he said, taking her hands, but holding them only briefly, almost as if he was embarra.s.sed. "Rather than a formal one, let me offer you a better welcome."

Laramar proceeded to open the container. First he unwrapped a waterproof piece of cleaned intestine from a pouring spout that had been made of a single vertebra from the backbone of an aurochs. Extraneous material "around the tubular bone had been carved away and a groove cut around the outside. Then it had been inserted into a natural opening of the stomach and a strong cord tied around the skin that encircled the bone so that it was pulled into the groove, to hold it in place and make a watertight connection. Then he pulled out the stopper, a thin leather thong that had been knotted several times at one end until it was big enough to plug the central hole. It was much easier to control the flow of liquid from the flexible bag through the natural hole in the center of the solid section of spine.

Ayla had retrieved her cup from Jondalar and held it out. Laramar filled it somewhat more than half-full. Then he poured some for Jondalar. Ayla took a small sip. "This is good," she said, smiling. "When I lived with the Mamutoi, the headman, Talut, used to make a drink similar to this out of birch sap and grains and other ingredients, but I must admit, this is better."

Laramar looked around at the people nearby with a smirk of satisfaction.

"What is this made of?" Ayla asked, trying to get the taste.

"I don't always make it the same way. It depends on what's available. Sometimes I use birch sap and grains," Laramar said, being evasive. "Can you guess what's in it?"

She tasted again. It was harder to guess ingredients when they were fermented. "I think there are grains, perhaps birch sap or sap from some other tree, and maybe fruit, but something else, something sweet. I can't tell the proportions, though, how much of each is used," Ayla said.

"You have a good sense of taste," he said, evidently impressed. "This batch does have fruit, apples that were left on a tree through a frost, which makes them a little more sweet, but the sweet you are tasting is honey."

"Of course! Now that you mention it, I can taste honey," Ayla said.

"I can't always get honey, but when I can, it makes the barma better, and stronger," Laramar said, this time with a smile that was genuine. There were not many with whom he could discuss the making of his brew.

Most people had a craft, something in which they developed the skill to excel. Laramar knew that he could make barma better than anyone. He considered it his craft, the one thing he could do well, but he felt that few gave him the credit he thought he deserved.

Many foods fermented naturally, some on the vine or tree on which they grew; even animals who ate them were sometimes affected. And many people made fermented beverages, as least occasionally, but they were inconsistent and their product often turned sour. Marthona was often cited for making an excellent wine, but it was considered by many a minor thing, and. of course, it wasn't her only skill.

Laramar could always be counted on to make a fermented brew that became alcoholic, not vinegary, and his was often very good. He knew that it wasn't a minor thing, it took skill and knowledge to do it well, but most people cared only about his end product. It didn't help that he was known to drink a lot of it himself and was often too "sick" in the mornings to go hunting or to partic.i.p.ate in some cooperative, sometimes unpleasant, but usually necessary activity that needed to be done for the Cave.

Shortly after he poured the barma for the guests of honor, a woman appeared at Laramar's side. A toddler was hanging on her leg that she seemed to be ignoring. She had a cup in her hand which she held toward Laramar. A flicker of displeasure danced across his features for a moment, but he held his expression carefully neutral as he poured her some barma.

"Aren't you going to introduce her to your mate?" she said, obviously directing her question to Laramar, but looking at Ayla.

"Ayla, this is my mate, Tremeda, and the one hanging on her is her youngest boy," Laramar said, complying with her request minimally, and somewhat reluctantly, Ayla thought.

"Tremeda, this is Ayla of the...Matumo."

"In the name of the Mother, I greet you, Tremeda of...," Ayla started, putting down her cup so she could use both hands in the formal greeting.

"I welcome you, Ayla," Tremeda said, then took a drink, not bothering with trying to free her hands for greetings.

Two more children had crowded around her. The clothing on all the children was so ragged, stained, and dirty, it was hard to see the minor differences that Ayla had observed between young Zelandonii girls and boys, and Tremeda, herself, looked little better. Her hair was uncombed, her clothes stained and dirty. Ayla suspected that Tremeda indulged too heavily in her mate's brew. The eldest of the children, a boy, Ayla thought, was looking at her with an unpleasant expression.

"Why does she talk so funny?" he said, looking up at his mother. "And why is she wearing boy's underwear?"

"I don't know. Why don't you ask her?" Tremeda said, drinking the last of the liquid in her cup.

Ayla glanced at Laramar and noticed that he was fuming with anger. He looked ready to hit the youngster. Before he could, Ayla spoke to the boy. "The reason I have a different way of speaking is that I come from far away and grew up with people who don't talk the same way as the Zelandonii. Jondalar taught me to speak your language after I was already grown. As for these clothes, they were given to me as a gift earlier today."

The youngster seemed surprised that she had answered him, but he didn't hesitate to ask another question. "Why would someone give you boys' clothes?" the boy said.

"I don't know," she said. "Perhaps they meant it as a joke, but I rather like them. They are very comfortable. Don't you think so?"

"I guess so. I never had any as good as those," the boy said.

"Then perhaps we can make some for you. I'd be willing if you will help me," Ayla said.

His eyes lit up. "Do you mean it?"

"Yes, I mean it. Will you tell me your name?"

"I'm Bologan," he said.

Ayla held out both her hands. Bologan looked at her in surprise. He had not expected a full formal greeting and wasn't sure what to do. He didn't think he had a formal designation. He had never heard his mother or the man of his hearth greet anyone using their names and ties. Ayla reached down and took both his grimy hands in hers.

"I am Ayla of the Mamutoi, Member of the Lion Camp," she began, and continued with her full formal designation. When he didn't respond with his, she did it for him. "In the name of Mut, the Great Earth Mother, also known as Doni, I greet you, Bologan of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii; Son of Tremeda, Blessed of Doni, mated to Laramar, Maker of the Most Excellent Barma."

The way she said it made it sound as if he really did have names and ties to be proud of, like everyone else. He looked up at his mother and her mate. Laramar was not angry anymore. They were smiling and seemed rather pleased at the way she had named them.