The younger woman tittered at Ayla’s funny way of talking and then tried to hide it, and Jondalar thought he noticed a trace of a smirk on Marona’s face. His brow wrinkled in a frown.
“I wanted to do more than greet you, Ayla,” Marona said. “I don’t know if Jondalar ever mentioned it, but as you know by now, we were Promised before he decided to leave on this great Journey he suddenly had to make. As I’m sure you must know, I wasn’t very pleased about it.”
Jondalar was trying to think of something to say to ward off what he felt sure was coming, Marona letting Ayla know that she was very unhappy by giving her an earful of his faults, but she surprised turn.
“But that was in the past,” Marona said. “To be honest, I haven’t thought about him in years, until you arrived today. Other people may not have forgotten, however, and some of them like to talk. I wanted to give them something else to talk about, to show them that I can greet you appropriately.” She motioned toward her friends to include them. “We were going to go to my room to get ready for your Welcome Feast tonight, and we thought you might like to join us, Ayla. My cousin Wylopa is there already—you remember Wylopa, don’t you, Jondalar? I thought it would give you a chance to get acquainted with some women before all the formal meetings tonight.”
Ayla noticed some tension, particularly between Jondalar and Marona, but under the circumstances that wouldn’t be unusual. Jondalar had mentioned Marona, and that they had been almost Promised before he left, and Ayla could imagine how she would feel in the woman’s place. But Marona had been straightforward about it, and Ayla did want to get to know some of the women better.
She missed women friends. She had known so few women her own age when she was growing up. Uba, Iza’s true daughter, had been like a sister to her, but Uba was much younger, and while Ayla had grown to care for all the women of Brun’s clan, there were differences. No matter how hard she tried to be a good Clan woman, some things she could not change. It wasn’t until she went to live with the Mamutoi and met Deegie that she came to appreciate the fun of having someone her own age to talk to. She missed Deegie, and Tholie of the Sharamudoi, too, who had quickly become a friend that Ayla would always remember.
“Thank you, Marona. I would like to join you. This is all I have to wear,” she said, quickly putting on her simple, travel-stained outfit, “but Marthona and Folara are going to help me make some clothes. I’d like to see what you wear.”
“Perhaps we can give you a few things, as a welcoming gift,” Marona said.
“Would you take this drying skin back with you, Jondalar?” Ayla said.
“Of course,” he said. He held her close for a heartbeat and brushed her cheek with his, then she left with the three women.
As Jondalar watched them go, his troubled frown deepened. Though he hadn’t formally asked Marona to be his mate, he had led her to believe they would be joined at the Matrimonial of the upcoming Summer Meeting before he left, and she had been making plans. Instead he left with his brother on a Journey and just hadn’t shown up. It must have been difficult for her.
It wasn’t that he had loved her. There was no doubt she was beautiful. Most men considered her to be the most beautiful and desirable woman at the Summer Meetings. And though he didn’t entirely agree, she certainly had her ways when it came to sharing Doni’s Gift of Pleasure. She just wasn’t the one he desired most. But people said they were perfect for each other, they looked so good together, and everyone had expected them to tie the knot. He more or less did, too. He knew he wanted to share a hearth with a woman and her children someday, and since he couldn’t have Zolena, the one woman he wanted, it might as well be Marona.
He had not really admitted it to himself, but he had felt relieved when he decided to go with Thonolan on a Journey. At the time, it seemed the easiest way to extricate himself from his involvement with her. He had been sure she would find someone else while he was gone. She said she had, but it hadn’t lasted. He had expected to find her with a hearth full of children. She didn’t say anything about children at all. It was surprising.
He had no idea he would find her unmated when he returned. She was still a beautiful woman, but she did have a temper and a vicious streak. She could be very spiteful and vindictive. Jondalar’s forehead knotted with concern as he watched Ayla and the three women walking toward the Ninth Cave.
6
Wolf saw Ayla walking along the path through the horse meadow with the three women and raced toward her. Lorava squealed at the sight of the large carnivore, Portula gasped and looked around in panic for a place to run, and Marona blanched in fear. Ayla glanced at the women as soon as she saw the wolf and, noting their reactions, quickly signaled him to stay.
“Stop, Wolf!” she voiced aloud, more for the benefit of the women than to halt the animal, although it did reinforce her signal. Wolf stopped in his tracks and watched Ayla, alert for a sign that he could approach her. “Would you like to meet Wolf?” she said, then, seeing that the women still showed fear, she added, “He won’t hurt you.”
“Why would I want to meet an animal?” Marona said.
The tone of her voice made Ayla look more closely at the light-haired woman. She noted fear but, surprisingly, an inflection of disgust and even anger. Ayla could understand the fear, but the rest of Marona’s reaction seemed inappropriate. It was certainly not the response she was used to seeing the animal evoke. The other two women looked at Marona, then seemed to follow her lead, showing no indication that they wanted to get close to the wolf.
Wolf’s stance had become more wary, Ayla saw. He must sense something, too, she thought. “Wolf, go find Jondalar,” she said, giving him a signal to go. He stayed a moment longer, watching her, then bounded away as she turned to walk up the path toward the enormous stone shelter of the Ninth Cave with the three women.
They passed by seve
ral people on the path, and each one showed an immediate reaction to seeing her with the women. Some cast speculative glances or bemused smiles, some seemed surprised, even startled. Only young children seemed to pay no attention to them. Ayla could not help but notice, and it put her a bit on edge.
She studied Marona and the other women, though not obviously, using the techniques of women of the Clan. No one could be more inconspicuous than Clan women. They could quietly fade into the background and seem to disappear, and they gave the impression that they were not aware of anything around them, but that was misleading.
From the time they were very young, girls were taught never to stare or even look directly at a man, to be unobtrusive, and yet they were expected to know when one needed or wanted her attention. As a consequence, Clan women learned to focus carefully and precisely, and with a glance absorb significant information from posture, movement, and expression very quickly. And they missed little.
Ayla was as adept as any of them, though she wasn’t as aware of this legacy of her years with the Clan as she was of her ability to read body language. Her observations of the women put her on guard and made her think again about Marona’s motives, but she didn’t want to make any assumptions.
Once they were under the stone ledge they headed in a different direction from the one she had gone before and entered a large dwelling more toward the middle of the space. Marona led them in and they were greeted by another woman who seemed to be waiting for them.
“Ayla, this is my cousin, Wylopa,” Marona said on their way through the main room and into a side sleeping room. “Wylopa, this is Ayla.”
“Greetings,” Wylopa said.
After the rather formal introductions Ayla had had to all of Jondalar’s close kin, this offhand presentation to Marona’s cousin, with no welcome though it was her first time in this dwelling, struck Ayla as odd. It was not consistent with the behavior she had already come to expect from the Zelandonii.
“Grrreetings, Wylopa,” Ayla said. “This dwelling, is it yourrrs?”