Ayla thought about how to make herself understood to the man of the Clan, glancing at the young woman sitting nearby, who looked nervous and upset. Then, remembering the Clan Gathering, she tried the ancient, formal, and primarily silent language that was used to address the world of the spirits, and to communicate with other clans that had a different common language.
The man nodded and made a gesture. Ayla felt a great wash of relief when she found that she understood him, and a rush of excitement. These people did come from the same beginnings as her Clan! Sometime, in some far distant past, this man had the same ancestors as Creb and Iza. With a sudden insight, she recalled a strange vision, and knew that she, too, shared roots, even more ancient, with him, but her line had diverged, taken a different path.
Jondalar watched, fascinated, as they began to talk with signs. It was hard to follow the quick flowing movements they made, which gave him a sense of much greater complexity and subtlety to the language than he had supposed. When Ayla had taught people of the Lion Camp some of the Clan sign language so that Rydag could communicate with them for the first time in his life – the formal language because it was easier for the youngster to learn – she had taught them only the basic rudiments. The boy had always enjoyed talking with her more than anyone. Jondalar had guessed that Rydag could communicate with her more fully, but he was beginning to understand the range and depth of the language.
Ayla was surprised when the man skipped over some of the formalities of introduction. He didn't establish names, places, or kinship lines. "Woman of the Others, this man would know where you learned to speak."
"When this woman was a young child, family and people were lost to an earthquake. This woman was raised by a clan," she explained.
"This man knows of no clan that took in a child of the Others," the man signed.
"The clan of this woman lives far away. Does the man know of the river known to the Others as Great Mother?"
"It is the boundary," he motioned impatiently.
"The river goes on for a greater distance than many know, to a great sea, far to the east. The clan of this woman lives beyond the end of Great Mother," Ayla signed.
He looked incredulous, then studied her. He knew that, unlike the people of the Clan whose language included the understanding of unconscious body movements and gestures, which made it almost impossible to say one thing and mean something else, the people of the Others, who spoke with sounds, were different. He couldn't be sure about her. He could see no signs of dissimulation, but her story seemed so farfetched.
"This woman has been traveling since the beginning of last warm season," she added.
He became impatient again, and Ayla realized he was in great pain. "What does the woman want? Others are gone, why does the woman not go?" He knew that she had probably saved his life and had helped his mate, which meant he owed her an obligation; that would make them the next thing to kin. The thought was unsettling.
"This woman is a medicine woman. This woman would look at the man's leg," Ayla explained.
He snorted with disdain. "The woman cannot be a medicine woman. The woman is not Clan."
Ayla did not argue. She thought a moment, then decided to try another approach. "This woman would speak to the man of the Others," she requested. He nodded approval. She stood up, then backed away before she turned around and went to talk to Jondalar.
"Are you able to communicate with him very well?" he asked her. "I know you are making a good attempt, but the Clan you lived with is so far away, I can't help but wonder how successful you are."
"I started out using the everyday language of my clan, and we couldn't understand each other. I should have known their ordinary signs and words would not be the same, but when I used ancient formal language, we had no trouble communicating," Ayla explained.
"Did I understand you right? Are you saying that the Clan can communicate in a way that is understood by all of them? No matter where they live? That's hard to believe."
"I suppose it is," she said, "but their ancient way is in their memories."
"You mean they are born knowing how to speak in that way? Any baby can do it?"
"Not exactly. They are born with their memories, but they have to be 'taught' how to use them. I'm not sure how it works, I don't have the memories, but it seems to be more like 'reminding' them of what they know. Usually they only have to be reminded once, and then it's set. That's why some of them thought I wasn't very smart. I was so slow to learn, until I taught myself to memorize fast, and even then it wasn't easy. Rydag had the memories, but he didn't have anyone to teach him… to remind him. That's why he didn't know the sign language until I came."
"You, slow to learn! I've never seen anyone learn languages so fast," Jondalar said.
She shrugged off the comment. "That's different. I think the Others have a kind of memory for word language, but we learn to speak the sounds of those around us. To learn a different language, you just have to memorize another set of sounds, and sometimes another way of putting them together," she said. "Even if you aren't perfect, you can understand each other. His language is more difficult, for us, but communication isn't the problem I'm having with him. Obligation is the problem."
"Obligation? I don't understand," Jondalar said.
"He's in terrible pain, though he'll never let you know it. I want to help him, I want to set that leg. I don't know how they're going to get back to their clan, but we can worry about that later. First I need to fix his leg. But he is already in our debt, and he knows that if I can understand his language, I understand the obligation. If he believes we saved his life, it's a kinship debt. He doesn't want to owe us more," Ayla said, trying to explain a very complex relationship in a simple way.
"What's a kinship debt?"
"It's an obligation…" Ayla tried to think of a way to put it that would make it clear. "It's usually between hunters of a clan. If one man saves another man's life, he 'owns' a piece of the other's spirit. The man that would have died gives up a piece to be restored to life. Since a man doesn't want any pieces of his spirit to die – to walk the next world before he does – if another man owns a piece of his spirit, he will do anything to save that man's life. That makes them kin, closer than brothers."
"That makes sense," Jondalar said, nodding.
"When men hunt together," Ayla continued, "they have to help each other, and they often save each other's lives, so a piece of each one's spirit usually belongs to each of the others. It makes them kin in a way that goes beyond family. Hunters in a clan may be related, but the kinship of family cannot be stronger than the bond between the hunters, because they cannot favor one over the other. They all have to depend on each other."
"There is wisdom in that," Jondalar said thoughtfully.
"That's called a kinship debt. This man doesn't know the customs of the Others, and he doesn't think much of what he does know."
"After Charoli and his band, who can blame him?"
"It goes much beyond that, Jondalar. But he's not happy about being in our debt."
"He told you all this?"
"No, of course not, but the language of the Clan is more than signs made with the hands. It's the way a person sits, or stands, expressions on the face, small things, but they all have meaning. I grew up with a clan. Those things are as much a part of me as they are of him. I know what's bothering him. If he could accept me as a medicine woman of the Clan, it would help."
"What difference would that make?" Jondalar said.
"It means I already own a piece of his spirit," Ayla said.
"But you don't even know him! How can you own a piece of his spirit?"
"A medicine woman saves lives. She could claim a piece of the spirit of everyone she saves, could 'own' pieces of everyone before many years have gone by. So when she is made a medicine woman, she gives a piece of her spirit to the Clan, and receives a piece of every Clan person in return. That way, no matter who she saves, the debt is already paid. That's why a medicine woman has status in her own right." Ayla looked thoughtful, then said, "This is the first time I'm glad the Clan spirits were not taken back…" She paused.
Jondalar started to speak. Then he noticed that she was staring into the empty air, and he realized she was looking inside herself.
"… When I was cursed with death," she continued. "I've worried about that for a long time. After Iza died, Creb took all the spirit pieces back, so they would not go with her to the next world. But when Broud had me cursed, no one took them back from me, even though to the Clan I am dead."
"What would happen if they knew that?" Jondalar asked, indicating with a discreet twist of his head the two Clan people who were watching them.
"I would not exist to them any more. They would not see me; they would not let themselves see me. I could stand right in front of them and scream, and they would not hear it. They would think I was a bad spirit trying to trap them into the next world," Ayla said, closing her eyes and shuddering with the memory.
"But why did you say you were glad that you still had the spirit pieces?" Jondalar asked.
"Because I can't say one thing and mean something else. I can't lie to him. He would know it. But I can refrain from mentioning. That's allowed, out of courtesy, for the sake of privacy. I don't have to say anything about the curse, even though he would probably know I was holding something back, but I can talk about being a medicine woman of the Clan, because it's true. I still am. I still own the spirit pieces." She frowned then, with worry. "But someday I will really die, Jondalar. If I go to the next world with the spirit pieces of everyone in the Clan, what will happen to them?"
"I don't know, Ayla," he said.
She shrugged, putting the thought aside. "Well, it's this world I need to worry about now. If he will accept me as a medicine woman of the Clan, then he won't have to be so concerned about owing a debt to me. It's bad enough for him to owe a kinship debt to one of the Others, but worse if it's a woman, especially one who used a weapon."
"But you hunted when you lived with the Clan," Jondalar reminded her.
"That was a special exception, and only because I survived a moon-cycle curse of death for hunting and using a sling. Brun allowed it because my Cave Lion totem protected me. He thought of it as a testing, and I think it finally gave him a reason to accept a woman with such a strong totem. He's the one who gave me my hunting talisman and called me the Woman Who Hunts."
Ayla touched the leather bag she always wore around her neck, and thought of her first one, the simple drawstring pouch that Iza had made for her. As her mother, Iza had put the piece of red ochre inside it when Ayla was accepted by the Clan. That amulet was nothing like the finely decorated one she wore now, which had been given to her at her Mamutoi adoption ceremony, but it still held her special tokens, including that original piece of red ochre. All the signs her totem had given to her were in it, as well as the red-stained oval from the tip of a mammoth tusk that was her hunting talisman, and the black stone, the small chunk of black manganese dioxide that held the spirit pieces of the Clan, which had been given to her when she became the medicine woman of Brun's clan.
"Jondalar, I think it would help if you would talk to him. He's unsure. His ways are very traditional, and too many unusual things have been going on. If he had a man to talk to, even one of the Others, rather than a woman, it might ease his mind. Do you remember the sign for a man to greet a man?"
Jondalar made a motion, and Ayla nodded. She knew it lacked finesse, but the meaning was clear. "Don't attempt to greet the woman yet. It would be in bad taste, and he might consider it an insult. It is not customary or appropriate for men to talk to women without a good reason, especially strangers, and you will need his permission even then. With kin, there are fewer formalities, and a close friend could even relieve his needs – share Pleasures – with her, though it's considered polite to ask his permission first."
"Ask his permission, but not hers? Why do the women allow themselves to be treated as though they are less important than men?" Jondalar asked.
"They don't think of it that way. They know, within themselves, that women and men are just as important, but men and women of the Clan are very different from each other," Ayla tried to explain.
"Of course they are different. All men and women are different… I'm glad to say."
"I don't just mean different in the way you can see. You can do anything a woman can do, Jondalar, except have a baby, and although you are stronger, I can do almost everything you can do. But men of the Clan cannot do many things that women do, just as women cannot do the things that men do. They don't have the memories for it. When I taught myself to hunt, many people were more surprised that I had the ability to learn, or even the desire, than that I had gone against the way of the Clan. It wouldn't have astounded them any more if you had given birth to a baby. I think the women were more surprised than the men. The idea would never occur to a Clan woman."
"I thought you said the people of the Clan and the Others are very much alike," Jondalar said.
"They are. But in some ways, they are more different than you can imagine. Even I can't imagine it, and I was one of them, for a while," Ayla said. "Are you ready to talk to him now?"
"I think so," he said.
The tall, blond man walked toward the powerful, stocky man who was still sitting on the ground, with his thigh bent at an unnatural angle. Ayla followed. Jondalar lowered himself to sit in front of the man, glancing at Ayla, who nodded approval.
He had never been so close to an adult flathead male before, and his first thought was a memory of Rydag. Looking at this man, it was even more obvious that the boy had not been full Clan. As Jondalar recalled the strange, bright, sickly child, he realized that Rydag's features had been greatly modified in comparison – softened was the word that came to him. This man's face was large, both long and wide, and jutted out somewhat, led by a sizable, protruding, sharp nose. His fine-haired beard, which showed signs of having been recently trimmed to a uniform length, did not entirely succeed in hiding a rather receding jaw, with no chin.
His facial hair blended into a mass of thick, softly curled, light brown hair covering a huge, long head, that was full and rounded at the back. But the man's heavy brow ridges took up most of his forehead, which sloped back into a hairline that started low. Jondalar had to restrain an urge to reach up and touch his own sharply rising high forehead and domed head. He could understand why they were called flatheads. It was as if someone had taken a head that was shaped like his, but somewhat larger, and made of material as malleable as wet clay, then reshaped it by pushing down and flattening his forehead, forcing the bulk of the size toward the back.
The man's heavy brows were accentuated by bushy eyebrows, and his gold-flecked, almost hazel eyes showed curiosity, intelligence, and an undercurrent of pain. Jondalar could understand why Ayla wanted to help him.
Jondalar felt clumsy making the gesture for greeting; but he was heartened by the look of surprise on the face of the man of the Clan, who returned the gesture. Jondalar wasn't sure what to do next. He thought about what he would do if he were meeting any stranger from another Cave or Camp, and he tried to remember the signs he had learned to make with Rydag.
He gestured, "This man is called…" then spoke his name and primary affiliation, "Jondalar of the Zelandonii."
It was too melodic, too full of syllables, too much for the man of the Clan to hear all at once. He shook his head, as if trying to unplug his ear, inclined his head, as though it would help him to listen better, then tapped Jondalar's chest.
It wasn't hard to understand what he meant, Jondalar thought. He made the signs again for "This man is called…" then spoke his name, but only his given name, and more slowly, "Jondalar."
The man closed his eyes, concentrating, then opened them and, taking a breath, spoke out loud, "Dyondar."
Jondalar smiled, and nodded yes. There was a deep-voiced, not fully articulated quality to the word, and a sense of swallowing the vowels, but it was close enough. And strangely familiar. Then it came to him! Of course! Ayla! Her words still had that same quality, though not nearly as strong. That was her unusual accent. No wonder no one could identify it. She had a Clan accent, and no one knew they could talk!
Ayla was surprised at how well the man had said Jondalar's name. She doubted if she had said it that well the first time she tried, and she wondered if this man had had contact with Others before. If he had been chosen to represent his people, or make some form of contact with the ones known as the Others, it would be an indication of high status. All the more reason, she understood, for him to be wary of kinship bonds with Others, especially Others of unknown status. He would not want to devalue his own status, but an obligation was an obligation, and whether he or his mate was ready to admit it, they still needed help. Somehow she had to convince him that they were Others who understood the significance and were worthy of the association.
The man facing Jondalar slapped his chest once, then leaned forward slightly. "Guban," he said.
Jondalar had as much trouble repeating his name as Guban had had with "Jondalar," and Guban was as generous in accepting the tall man's mispronunciation as Jondalar had been of his.
Ayla felt relieved. An exchange of names wasn't much, but it was a start. She glanced at the woman, still startled to see hair coloring lighter than her own on a woman of the Clan. Her head was covered with a fluff of soft curls, so light that it was almost white, but she was young and very attractive. Probably a second woman at his hearth. Guban was a man in his prime, and this woman was probably from a different clan, and quite a prize.
The woman looked at Ayla, then away quickly. Ayla wondered. She had seen worry and fear in the woman's eyes and looked more closely, but with as much subtlety as the young Clan woman had used. Was there a thickening at the waist? Did her wrap fit a little tight across her breasts? She's pregnant! No wonder she's worried. A man with a badly healed broken leg would no longer be in his prime. And while this man might have high status, he no doubt had heavy responsibilities as well. Somehow, Ayla thought, she had to convince Guban to let her help him.
The two men had been sitting watching each other. Jondalar was not sure what to do next, and Guban was waiting to see what he would do. Finally, in desperation, he turned to her.
"This woman is Ayla," he said, using his simple signs and then speaking her name.
At first Ayla thought he might have committed a social blunder, but seeing Guban's reaction, decided perhaps not. Introducing her so quickly was an indication of the high esteem in which she was held, appropriate for a medicine woman. Then, as he continued, she wondered if he had seen into her thoughts.
"Ayla is healer. Very good healer. Good medicine. Want help Guban."
To the man of the Clan, Jondalar's signs were hardly more than baby talk. There were no nuances to his meaning, no suggestive shadings, no degrees of complexity, but his sincerity was clear. It was a surprise in itself to discover a man of the Others who could speak properly at all. Most of them chattered, or muttered, or growled like animals. They were like children in their excessive use of sound, but then, the Others weren't considered very bright.
The woman, on the other hand, had a surprising depth of understanding with a fine grasp of nuance; and a clear and expressive ability to communicate. With inconspicuous finesse, she had translated some of Dyondar's subtler meanings, easing their communication without embarrassment to anyone. As difficult as it was to believe that she had been raised by a clan and had traveled such a great distance, she was so adept at speaking that one could almost believe she was Clan.
Guban had never heard of the clan of whom the woman spoke, and he knew many, but the common language she had used was quite unfamiliar. Even the language of the clan of his yellow-hair was not as strange, yet this woman of the Others knew the ancient sacred signs and could use them with great skill and precision. Rare for a woman. There was a suggestion that she might be withholding something, though he couldn't be certain. She was, after all, a woman of the Others, and he wouldn't ask in any case. Women, especially medicine women, liked to keep a few things to themselves.
The pain of his broken leg throbbed and threatened to escape his control, and he had to focus on holding it in for a time.
But how could she be a medicine woman? She wasn't Clan. She had no memories for it. Dyondar claimed she was a healer, and he spoke of her skill with great conviction… and his leg was broken – Guban flinched inwardly, then gritted his teeth. Perhaps she was a healer; the Others had to have them, too, but that didn't make her a medicine woman of the Clan. His obligation was already so great. A kinship debt to this man would be bad enough, but to a woman, and a woman who used a weapon?
Yet where would he and his yellow-hair be without their help? His yellow-hair… and expecting a young one already. The thought of her made him feel soft inside. He had felt anger beyond anything he had ever known when those men went after her, hurting her, trying to take her. That was why he had jumped down from the top of the rock. It had taken him a long time to climb to the top, and he couldn't wait that long to get back down.
He had seen deer tracks and had climbed up to look around, to see what he might hunt, while she collected inner bark and set taps for the juice that would soon be rising. She had said it would warm soon, though some of the others hadn't believed her. She was still a stranger, but she said she had the memories for it and knew. He wanted to let her prove it to the others, so he had agreed to take her out, though he knew the dangers… from those men.
But it was cold, and he thought they'd avoid them if they stayed close to the icetop. The top of the rock seemed like a good place to scout the area. The agonizing pain when he landed hard and felt his leg snap made him dizzy, but he could not succumb. The men were on top of him, and he had to fight them, pain or no. He felt warmed remembering how she had rushed to him. He had been surprised to see her hitting at those men. He had never known a woman to do that, and he would never tell anyone, but it had pleased him that she had tried so hard to help him.
He shifted his weight, controlling the sharp stab of pain. But it wasn't so much the pain. He had learned long ago to resist pain. Other fears were harder to control. What would happen if he could never walk again? A broken leg or arm could take a long time to heal, and if the bones mended wrong, twisted, or misshapen, or too short… what if he couldn't hunt?
If he couldn't hunt, he would lose status. He would no longer be leader. He had promised the leader of her clan to take care of her. She had been a favorite, but his status was great, and she wanted to go with him. She even told him, in the privacy of their own furs, that she had wished for him.
His first woman had not been too happy when he came home with a young and beautiful second woman, but she was a good Clan woman. She had taken good care of his hearth, and she would keep the status of First Woman. He promised to take care of her and her two daughters. He hadn't minded that. Though he had always wished she would have a son, the daughters of his mate were a delight to have around the hearth, though they would soon be grown and gone.
But if he couldn't hunt, he wouldn't be able to take care of anyone. Like an old man, the clan would have to take care of him instead. And his beautiful yellow-hair, who might give birth to a son, how could he take care of her? She would have no trouble finding a man willing to take her, but he would lose her.
He could not even get back to the clan if he couldn't walk. She would have to go for help, and they would have to come and get him. If he couldn't make it back on his own, he would be less in the eyes of his clan, but it would be so much worse if the broken leg slowed him down and he lost his skill at hunting, or could never hunt again.
Perhaps I should talk to this healer of the Others, he thought, even if she is a woman who uses a weapon. Her status must be high, Dyondar holds her in high regard, and his must be high, or he would not be mated to a medicine woman. She had made those other men leave as much as the man… she and the wolf. Why would a wolf help them? He had seen her talking to the animal. The signal was simple and direct, she told him to wait over there, by the tree near the horses, but the wolf understood her and did it. He was still there, waiting.
Guban looked away. It was difficult even to think about those animals without feeling a deep, underlying fear of spirits. What else would draw the wolf or the horses to them? What else would make animals behave so… unlike animals?
He could tell his yellow-hair was worried; how could he blame her? Since Dyondar had seen fit to acknowledge his woman, perhaps it would be appropriate to mention his. He would not want them to think the status she gained from him was any less than Dyondar's. Guban made a very subtle motion to the woman who had watched and seen everything, but, like a good Clan woman, had managed to make herself very inconspicuous.
"This woman is…"he motioned, then tapped her shoulder and said, "Yorga."
Jondalar had the impression of two swallows separated by a rolled R. He could not even begin to reproduce the sound. Ayla saw his struggle, and she had to think of a way to gracefully handle the situation. She repeated her name in a way Jondalar could say it, but addressed her as a woman.
"Yorga," adding with signs, "this woman greets you. This woman is called…" and very slowly and carefully said, "Ayla." Then in both signs and words, so Jondalar could understand, "The man named Dyondar would also greet the woman of Guban."
It was not the way it would have been done in the Clan, Guban thought, but then these people were Others, and it was not offensive. He was curious to see what Yorga would do.
She flicked her eyes in Jondalar's direction, very briefly, then looked back down at the ground. Guban shifted position just enough to let her know he was pleased. She had acknowledged Dyondar's existence, but no more.
Jondalar was less subtle. He had never been so close to Clan people… and he was fascinated. His look took much longer. Her features were similar to Guban's, with feminine modifications, and he had noticed before that she was sturdy but short, the height of a girl. She was far from beautiful, at least in his opinion, except for her pale yellow, downy-soft fluff of curls, but he could understand why Guban might think so. Suddenly mindful of Guban watching him, he nodded perfunctorily, then looked away. The Clan man was glowering; he would have to be careful.
Guban hadn't liked the attention Jondalar had paid to his woman, but he did sense there was no lack of respect intended, and he was having more difficulty controlling his pain. He needed to know more about this healer.
"I would speak to your… healer, Dyondar," Guban signed.
Jondalar got the sense of his meaning and nodded. Ayla had been watching, quickly came forward, and sat in respectful posture in front of the man.
"Dyondar has said the woman is a healer. The woman says medicine woman. Guban would know how a woman of the Others can be a medicine woman of the Clan."
Ayla spoke as she made the signs, so that Jondalar would understand exactly what she was telling Guban. "The woman who took me in, who raised me, was a medicine woman of highest rank. Iza came from most ancient line of medicine woman. Iza was like mother to this woman, trained this woman with the daughter born to the line," Ayla explained. She could see he was skeptical but interested in knowing more. "Iza knew this woman did not have the memories as her true daughter did."
Guban nodded, of course not.
"Iza made this woman remember, made this woman tell Iza over and over, show over and over, until the medicine woman knew this woman would not lose the memories. This woman was happy to practice, to repeat many times to learn the ways of a medicine woman."
Although her gestures remained stylized and formal, her words became less so as she continued her explanation.
"Iza told me she thought this woman came from a long line of medicine women, too, medicine women of the Others. Iza said I thought like a medicine woman, but she taught me how to think about medicine like a woman of the Clan. This woman was not born with the memories of a medicine woman, but Iza's memories are my memories now."
Ayla had everyone's attention. "Iza got sick, a coughing sickness that not even she could heal, and I began to do more. Even the leader was pleased when I treated a burn, but Iza gave status to the clan. When she was too sick to make the trip to the Clan Gathering, and her true daughter was still too young, the leader and the Mog-ur decided to make me medicine woman. They said that since I had her memories, I was a medicine woman of her line. The other mog-urs and leaders at the Clan Gathering didn't like the idea at first, but they finally accepted me, too."
Ayla could see Guban was interested, and she sensed he wanted to believe her, but he still had doubts. She took off the decorated bag from around her neck, untied the cords, and spilled out some of the contents into her palm, then picked out a small black stone and held it out to him.
Guban knew what it was, the black stone that would leave a mark was a mystery. Even the smallest piece could hold a tiny fraction of the spirits of all the people of the Clan, and was given to a medicine woman when a piece of hers was taken. The amulet she wore was strange, he thought, typical of the way the Others made things, but he hadn't known they wore amulets at all. Maybe the Others weren't all ignorant and brutish.
Guban noticed another of the objects from her amulet and pointed to it. "What is that?"
Ayla put the rest of her objects back in her amulet and put it down so she could answer. "It is my hunting talisman," she said.
That could not be true, Guban thought. This would prove her wrong. "Women of the Clan do not hunt."
"I know, but I was not born to the Clan. I was chosen by a Clan totem who protected me and led me to the clan that became mine, and my totem wanted me to hunt. Our mog-ur reached back and found the old spirits who told him. They made a special ceremony. I was called the Woman Who Hunts."
"What is this Clan totem that chose you?"
Much to Guban's surprise, Ayla lifted her tunic, unloosened the drawstring ties from around the waist of her leggings, and lowered the side enough to show her left thigh. Four parallel lines, the scars left by the claws that had raked her thigh when she was a girl, showed clearly. "My totem is the Cave Lion."
The Clan woman caught her breath. The totem was too strong for a woman. It would be difficult for her to have children.
Guban grunted acknowledgment. The Cave Lion was the strongest hunting totem, a man's totem. He had never known a woman to have it, yet those were the marks that were cut into the right thigh of a boy whose totem was the Cave Lion, after he'd made his first major kill and become a man. "It is on the left leg. The mark is put on a man's right leg."
"I am a woman, not a man. The woman's side is the left side."
"Your mog-ur marked you there?"
"The Cave Lion himself marked me, when I was a girl, just before my clan found me."
"That would explain using the weapon," Guban signed, "but what about children? Does this man with hair the color of Yorga's have a totem strong enough to overcome such a totem?"
Jondalar looked uncomfortable. He had wondered something like that himself.
"The Cave Lion also chose him, and left his mark. I know because The Mog-ur told me the Cave Lion chose me, and put the marks on my leg to show it, just as the Cave Bear chose him, and took his eye…"
Guban sat up, visibly shaken. He slipped out of the formal language, but Ayla understood him.
"Mogor One-Eye! You know Mogor One-Eye?"
"I lived at his hearth. He raised me. He and Iza were siblings, and after her mate died, he took her and her children in. At the Clan Gathering, he was called the Mog-ur, but to those who lived at his hearth, he was Creb."
"Even at our Clan Gatherings, there is talk of Mogor One-Eye, and his powerful…" He was going to say more, but thought better of it. Men were not supposed to talk about the private esoteric male ceremonies around women. That would explain her skill with the ancient signs, too, if she was taught by Mogor One-Eye. And Guban did recall that the great Mogor One-Eye had a sibling who was a respected medicine woman from an ancient line. Suddenly Guban seemed to relax, and he allowed a fleeting look of pain to cloud his face. He took a deep breath, then looked at Ayla, who was sitting cross-legged, looking down, in the position of a proper Clan woman. He tapped her shoulder.
"Respected medicine woman, this man has a… small problem," Guban signaled in the ancient silent language of the Clan of the Cave Bear. "This man would ask the medicine woman to look at leg. The leg may be broken."
Ayla closed her eyes and let out her breath. She had managed to convince him. He would allow her to treat his leg. She signaled to Yorga, telling her to prepare a sleeping place for him. The broken bone had not pierced the skin, and she thought there was a good chance that he would have full use of it again, but for the leg to heal properly, she would have to straighten it, set it back in place, and then she would make a birchbark cast to hold it stiff, so he could not move it.
"It will be painful to straighten it, but I have something that will relax the leg, and make him sleep." Then she turned to Jondalar. "Will you move our camp here? I know it's a chore with all those burning stones, but I want to set up the tent for him. They didn't plan to be gone overnight, and he needs to be out of the cold, especially when I give him something to sleep. We'll need some firewood, too, I don't want to use the burning stones, and we'll need to cut some wood for splints. I'll get birchbark when he's asleep, and maybe I can make some crutches for him. He'll want to move around later."
Jondalar watched her take charge, and he smiled to himself. He hated the delay, even one more day seemed too much, but he wanted to help, too. Besides, Ayla wouldn't leave now. He just hoped they wouldn't be there too long.
Jondalar took the horses to their first camp, repacked, moved, and unpacked again, then led Whinney and Racer to a clearing where they could search out dried grass. There was some standing hay, but more flat against the ground under old snow. It was a little distance from their new location, but out of sight so the animals would trouble the Clan people less. They seemed to think that the tame animals were another manifestation of the strange behavior of Others, but Ayla noticed that both Guban and Yorga seemed relieved when the unnaturally complaisant horses were out of sight, and she was pleased that Jondalar had thought of it.
As soon as he returned, Ayla got her medicine bag out of a pack basket. For all that he had decided to accept her help as a medicine woman, Guban was relieved to see her old Clan-style otter-skin medicine bag, functional and not decorated. She made a point of keeping Wolf out of the way as well, and strangely, the animal, though usually curious and approachable by people whom Ayla and Jondalar had made friends with, showed no inclination to befriend the people of the Clan. He seemed content to stay in the background, watchful, though in no way menacing, and Ayla wondered if he sensed their uneasiness about him.
Jondalar helped Yorga and Ayla move Guban into the tent. He was surprised at how much the man weighed, but the sheer volume of muscle in a body so strong that six men could barely hold it down, was bound to add weight. Jondalar also realized that the move was very painful, though Guban's impassive face showed no sign of it. The man's refusal to admit pain made Jondalar wonder if he felt it as much, until Ayla explained that such stoic denial was ingrained in Clan men from boyhood. Jondalar's respect for the man increased. His was not a race of weaklings.
The woman was amazingly strong, too, smaller than the man but not greatly so. She could lift as much as Jondalar could, and when she chose to exert force, the grip of her hand was unbelievably powerful; yet he'd seen her use her hands with fine precision and control. He was becoming intrigued with discovering the similarities between people of the Clan and his own kind, as well as the differences. He wasn't sure exactly when it happened, but at some point he realized that he no longer questioned in any way the fact that they were human. They were different, certainly, but most definitely the people of the Clan were people, not animals.
Ayla ended up using a few of the burning stones after all to make a hotter fire to prepare the datura more quickly, adding hot cooking stones directly to the water to make it boil. But Guban resisted drinking all that she felt he should, claiming that he didn't like the idea of waiting too long for its effects to wear off, but she wondered if part of the problem was his doubt whether she could prepare the datura properly. With help from both Yorga and Jondalar, Ayla set the leg, and then made a sturdy splint. When it was all over, Guban finally slept.
Yorga insisted on making the meal, although Jondalar's interest in the processes and tastes embarrassed her. At night, by the fire, he began whittling out a pair of crutches for Guban, while Ayla enjoyed getting acquainted with Yorga and explained to her how to make medicine for pain. Ayla described the use of crutches and the need for padding under the arms. Yorga was constantly surprised at Ayla's knowledge of the Clan and Clan ways, but she had noticed her Clan "accent" earlier. Eventually she told Ayla about herself, and Ayla translated for Jondalar.
Yorga wanted to get inner bark and tap certain trees. Guban had come along to protect her because so many women had been attacked by Charoli's band that no women were allowed to go out alone any more, which was a hardship on the clan. Men had less time to hunt since they had to spend time accompanying women. That was why Guban decided to climb the big rock, to look for animals to hunt while Yorga collected inner bark. Charoli's men probably thought she was alone, and they might not have attacked if they had seen Guban, but when he saw them attack her, he jumped off the wall to her defense.
"I'm surprised all he broke was one leg," Jondalar said, looking up at the top of the wall.
"Clan bones are very heavy," Ayla said, "and thick. They don't break very easily."
"Those men didn't have to be so rough with me," Yorga commented, with signs. "I would have assumed the position if they had given me the signal, and if I hadn't heard his scream. I knew something was very wrong then."
She continued with the story. Several men attacked Guban, while three tried to force Yorga. From his scream of pain, she knew something was wrong with Guban, so she tried to get away from the men. That's when the other two held her down. Then suddenly Jondalar was there, hitting the men of the Others, and the wolf jumped at them and was biting them.
She looked at Ayla slyly. "Your man is very tall, and his nose is very small, but when I saw him there fighting the other men, this woman could think of him as a child."
Ayla looked puzzled, and then she smiled.
"I didn't quite understand what she said, or what she meant," Jondalar said.
"She made a little joke."
"A joke?" he said. He didn't think they were capable of making jokes.
"What she said, more or less, is that even though you are an ugly man, when you came to her rescue, she could have kissed you," Ayla said, then explained to Yorga.
The woman looked embarrassed, but glanced toward Jondalar, then looked again at Ayla. "I am grateful to your tall man. Perhaps, if the child I carry is a boy, and if Guban will allow me to suggest a name, I will say to him, Dyondar is not such a bad name."
"That wasn't a joke, was it, Ayla?" Jondalar said, surprised at the sudden rush of feeling.
"No, I don't think that was a joke, but she can only suggest, and it could be a difficult name for a boy of the Clan to grow up with because it's unusual. Guban might be willing, though. He's exceptionally open to new ideas, for a man of the Clan. Yorga told me about their mating, and I think they fell in love, which is quite rare. Most matings are planned and arranged."
"What makes you think they fell in love?" Jondalar asked. He was interested in hearing a Clan love story.
"Yorga is Guban's second woman. Her clan lives quite far from here, but he went there to bring word of a large Clan Gathering, and plans to discuss us, the Others. Charoli bothering their women, for one thing – I told her about the Losadunai plans to put a stop to them – but if I understand it right, some group of Others have approached a couple of clans about some trading."
"That's a surprise!"
"Yes. Communication is the biggest problem, but men of the Clan, including Guban, don't trust the Others. While Guban was visiting the distant clan, he saw Yorga, and she saw him. Guban wanted her, but the reason he gave was to establish closer ties with sonic of the distant clans, so they could share news, particularly about all these new ideas. He brought her back with him! Men of the Clan don't do that. Most of them would have made an intention known to the leader, returned and discussed it with his own clan, and given his first woman a chance to get used to the idea of sharing her hearth with another woman," Ayla said.
"The first woman at his hearth didn't know? That's a brave man," Jondalar said.
"His first woman had two daughters; he wants a woman who will make a son. Men of the Clan put great store in the sons of their mates, and, of course, Yorga hopes the baby she is carrying will be the boy he wants. She has had some trouble getting used to the new clan – they've been slow to accept her – and if Guban's leg doesn't heal properly, and he loses status, she's afraid they will blame her."
"No wonder she seemed so upset."
Ayla refrained from mentioning to Jondalar that she had told Yorga she was on her way to her man's home, away from her people, too. She didn't see any reason to add to his worries, but she was still concerned about how his people would accept her.
Ayla and Yorga both wished it was possible to visit with each other and share their experiences. They felt they were almost kin, since there was probably a kinship debt between Guban and Jondalar, and Yorga felt closer to Ayla, in the brief time they had known each other, than to any of the other women she had met. But Clan and Others didn't visit.
Guban woke up in the middle of the night, but he was still groggy. By morning he was alert, but reaction to the stresses of the previous day left him exhausted. When Jondalar ducked his head in the tent in the afternoon, Guban was surprised at how glad he was to see the tall man, but he didn't know what to make of the crutches he held.
"I use same thing after lion attack me," Jondalar explained. "Help me walk."
Guban was suddenly interested and wanted to try them, but Ayla would not allow it. It was too soon. Guban finally acquiesced, but only after announcing that he would try them the next day. In the evening, Yorga let Ayla know that Guban wanted to talk to Jondalar about some very important matters and was requesting her help with translation. She knew it was serious, guessed what it was about, and talked to Jondalar in advance so she could help him to understand what the difficulties might be.
Guban was still concerned about owing a kinship debt to Ayla, beyond the acceptable medicine woman spirit exchange, since she helped save his life using a weapon.
"We need to convince him that the debt is owed to you, Jondalar. If you tell him that you are my mate, you could tell him that since you have responsibility for me, any debts owed to me are actually owed to you."
Jondalar agreed, and after some preliminaries to establish procedures, they began the more serious discussion. "Ayla is my mate, she belongs to me," he said, while Ayla translated with the full range of subtleties. "I am responsible for her, debts owed to her are owed to me." Then, to her surprise, Jondalar added, "I, too, have an obligation that weighs on my spirit. I owe a kinship debt to the Clan."
Guban was curious.
"The debt has weighed heavily on my spirit because I haven't known how to repay it."
"Tell me about it," Guban signed. "Perhaps I can help."
"I was attacked by a cave lion, as Ayla mentioned. Marked, chosen by the Cave Lion, which is now my totem. It was Ayla who found me. I was near death, and my brother, who was with me, already walked the spirit world."
"I am sorry to hear that. It is hard to lose a brother."
Jondalar only nodded. "If Ayla had not found me, I, too, would be dead, but when Ayla was a child, and near death, the Clan took her in and raised her. If the Clan had not taken Ayla in when she was a child, she would not have lived. If Ayla had not lived and been taught to heal by a Clan medicine woman, I would not be alive. I would be walking in the next world now. I owe my life to the Clan, but I don't know how to pay that debt, or to whom."
Guban nodded with great sympathy. It was a serious problem and a large debt.
"I would make a request of Guban," Jondalar continued. "Since Guban owes a kinship debt to me, I ask him to accept my kinship debt to the Clan in exchange."
The man of the Clan considered the request gravely, but he was grateful to learn of the problem. Exchanging a kinship debt was far more acceptable than simply owing his life to a man of the Others, and giving him a piece of his spirit. Finally he nodded. "Guban will accept the exchange," he said, feeling great relief.
Guban took his amulet from around his neck and opened it. He shook the contents into his hand and picked out one of the objects, a tooth, one of his own first molars. Though he had no cavities, his teeth were worn down in a peculiar way, mainly because he used them as a tool. The tooth in his hand was worn, but not nearly so badly as his permanent teeth.
"Please accept this as a token of kinship," Guban said.
Jondalar was embarrassed. He hadn't realized there would be an exchange of some personal token to mark the exchange of debts, and he didn't know what to give to the man of the Clan that would be as meaningful. They were traveling very light, and he had very little to give. Suddenly it came to him.
He took a pouch from a loop of his belt and poured its contents into his hand. Guban looked surprised. In Jondalar's hand were several claws and two canine teeth of a cave bear, the cave bear he had killed the previous summer shortly after they had started on their long Journey. He held out one of the teeth. "Please accept this as a token of kinship."
Guban restrained his eagerness. A cave bear tooth was a powerful token, it bestowed high status, and the giving of one showed great honor. It pleased him to think that this man of the Others had acknowledged his position, and the debt he owed the entire Clan so appropriately. It would make the proper impression when he told the rest about this exchange. He accepted the token of kinship, closed it inside his fist, and gripped it firmly.
"Good!" Guban said with finality, as though completing a trade. Then he made a request. "Since we are now kin, perhaps we should know the location of each other's clan, and the territory they use."
Jondalar described the general location of his homeland. Most of the territory across the glacier was Zelandonii or related, and then he described specifically the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii. Guban described his homeland, and Ayla got the impression they were not as far from each other as she had supposed.
Charoli's name came up before they were through. Jondalar talked about the problems the young man had been creating for everyone, and he explained in some detail what they planned to do to stop him. Guban thought the information was important enough to tell other clans, and he wondered to himself if his broken leg might not turn out to be a great asset.
Guban would have much to tell to his clan. Not only that the Others themselves had problems with the man, and planned to do something about it, but that some of the Others were willing to fight their own kind to help people of the Clan. There were also some who could speak properly! A woman who could communicate very well, and a man with limited but useful ability, which in some ways could be more valuable because he was a male, and he was now kin. Such contact with Others, and the insights and knowledge about them, could bring him even more status, especially if he had full use of his leg again.
Ayla applied the birchbark cast in the evening. Guban went to bed feeling very good. And his leg hardly pained him at all.
Ayla woke up in the morning feeling very uneasy. She had a strange dream again, very vivid, with caves and Creb in it. She mentioned it to Jondalar; then they talked about how they were going to get Guban back to his people. Jondalar suggested the horses, but he was very worried about delaying any longer. Ayla felt that Guban would never consent. The tame horses upset him.
When they got up, they helped Guban out of the tent, and while Ayla and Yorga prepared a morning meal, Jondalar demonstrated the crutches. Guban insisted on trying, over Ayla's objections, and after a little practicing, was surprised at how effective they were. He could actually walk without putting any weight on his leg.
"Yorga," Guban called to his woman, after he put the crutches down, "make ready to leave. After the morning meal, we will go. It is time to return to the clan."
"It's too soon," Ayla said, using the Clan gestures at the same time. "You need to rest your leg, or it will not heal properly."
"My leg will rest while I walk with these." He motioned toward the crutches.
"If you must go now, you can ride one of the horses," Jondalar said.
Guban looked startled. "No! Guban walks on own legs. With the help of these walking sticks. We will share one more meal with new kin, and then we go."