“How do you know this is the time to trade, and about all these shell beads?” Levela asked.
“A man from the north just arrived. You’ll have to meet him. He’s a trader, too, and he has some fascinating ivory carvings,” Willamar said.
“I knew a man who made ivory carvings,” Ayla said, a little wistfully.
Jondalar’s ears perked up. He knew that same ivory carver. He was a remarkable and talented artist, and the man to whom he almost lost Ayla. He still felt a lump in his throat at the thought.
“I would like to meet the man and see his carvings, and I wouldn’t mind seeing the Southern Sea. I’m sure we can work something out in terms of trading. What else would make good trade goods?” he asked.
“Almost anything that is well made or useful, especially something unusual,” Willamar said.
“Like Ayla’s baskets,” Levela said.
“Why my baskets?” Ayla said, a little surprised. “They’re just plain baskets, not even any decoration on them.”
“That’s just it. They seem to be just plain baskets, until you look closely,” Levela said. “They are made so well, absolutely tight and even, and the weave is so unusual. The ones that are watertight stay that way for a long time, the looser ones also hold up well. Anyone who knows anything about baskets would pick yours before a showier one that is not made as well. Even your throwaway baskets are too good to throw away.”
Ayla blushed a little at all the praise. “I just make them the way I was taught,” she said. “I didn’t think there was anything special about them.”
Jondalar smiled. “I remember when we first went to stay with the Mamutoi, and there was a festival where people were exchanging gifts. Tulie and Nezzie offered to give you some things that you could give as gifts, but you said you had many gifts you had made to keep yourself busy and wanted to go back to your valley and get them. So we went and got them. I think Tulie, in particular, was surprised at how beautiful and well made your gifts were. And Talut loved his bison robe. The things you make are beautiful, Ayla.”
Now she was blushing bright red and at a loss as to what to say.
“If you don’t think so, just look at Jonayla,” Jondalar said with a grin.
“That’s not just me. Jonayla has a lot of you in her, too,” Ayla said.
“I certainly hope so,” Jondalar said.
“There’s no doubt the Mother used your spirit to blend with Ayla’s,” Levela said. “You can see it in Jonayla’s eyes. They are exactly your color and that shade of blue is not very common.”
“So everyone’s agreed. We will go to the Southern Sea on our way home,” Willamar interjected. “And I think you should make some baskets, Ayla. You can trade for salt, too, not just shells.”
“When are we going to meet the man with the carvings?” Jondecam asked.
“If this is a good time to stop for a midday meal, you can meet him now,” Willamar said.
“I just have a few more pieces to finish,” Levela said.
“We can bring some of the bison with us to cook for our meal or contribute to a community meal,” Jondalar said.
Jondalar picked up Jonayla and they all left with Willamar and walked to the zelandonia’s covered shelter. Demoryn was talking to a stranger, and Amelana, obviously pregnant and fully aware of how attractive that made her, was smiling at him. He was smiling back. He was fairly tall and well built, with brown hair and blue eyes, an appealing friendly face, and to Ayla, there was something about him that seemed familiar.
“I brought the rest of our traveling group,” Willamar said, and began the introductions. When he started with “Jondalar of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii,” the man looked puzzled as Jondalar put Jonayla down in preparation for joining hands.
“And this is his mate, Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, formerly of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi, Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth …”
“You I know,” the man said. “Or know of you. I am Conardi of the Losadunai and you both stayed with the Losadunai a few years ago?”
“Yes, we stayed with Laduni’s Cave on our way back from our Journey,” Jondalar said, with
genuine excitement. Although anyone who made a Journey usually met many people, one seldom met them again, or even someone who knew someone a person had met.
“We all heard about both you at next Summer Meeting. You made big impression with horses and wolf I recall,” Conardi said.
“Yes, the horses are at our camp, and Wolf is hunting,” Ayla said.
“And this little beauty must be addition to family. You she resembles,” Conardi said to the tall blond man with the vivid blue eyes. It sounded as though he was speaking Zelandonii with a slight shift in construction and a slightly different accent, but, Ayla remembered, their languages were very close. He was actually speaking Zelandonii with some Losadunai, his own language, mixed in.