“I came with the rest of …” Ayla started, then seeing the smile on the woman?
??s face, she understood. It was her accent. The Watcher was talking about how far she had traveled on her Journey with Jondalar, and before that, from her home with the Clan, and perhaps even before that. “You could be right,” she said, “but Jondalar may have traveled even farther. He Journeyed all the way from his home to the end of the Great Mother River far to the east, and beyond, where he found me, and then back again before we started on this Donier Tour.”
Jondalar stepped closer at the sound of his name and grinned when he heard Ayla describe his travels. The woman was not young and immature and not old, but old enough so that she had the wisdom that came from experience and maturity, about the age he used to like women before he met Ayla.
“Greetings, respected Watcher of the Most Ancient Sacred Site,” he said, holding out his hands. “I am Jondalar of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, Flint-Knapper of the Ninth Cave. Mated to Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, who is acolyte of the First. Son of Marthona, former leader of the Ninth Cave; brother of Joharran, leader of the Ninth Cave. Born to the Hearth of Dalanar, leader and founder of the Lanzadonii.”
He recounted his important names and ties. It was one thing for members of the zelandonia to simply state their primary affiliations, but it would seem too casual and not very courteous for him to be so brief in a formal introduction, especially to a Zelandoni.
“You are welcome here, Jondalar of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii,” she said, taking his hands and looking into eyes of an incredibly vivid shade of blue, eyes that seemed to see inside her very spirit, and cause her womanhood to quiver. She closed her eyes for a moment to regain her internal balance. No wonder she’s not ready to give up her name yet, the Watcher thought. She’s mated, and to one of the most fascinating men I have ever met. I wonder if anyone is planning a Mother Festival for these visitors from the north … too bad my time for serving as Watcher is not up yet. If someone needs me here, I can’t go to Mother Festivals.
Willamar, who was waiting to introduce himself to the Watcher, ducked his head to smile to himself. It was a good thing that Jondalar hardly seemed to notice the impact he still had on women, he thought, and as perceptive as she was, Ayla seemed oblivious to it. Even though it was discouraged, he knew that jealousy still lived in the hearts of many.
“I am called Willamar, Master Trader of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii,” he said, when his turn came, “mated to Marthona, the former leader of the Ninth Cave, who is the mother of this young man. Though he was not born to my hearth, he was raised there so I think of him as the son of my heart. I feel the same about Ayla and her little one, Jonayla.”
She’s not only mated, she has a child, a young child, the Watcher thought. How can she even think of becoming a Zelandoni? Much less as an acolyte to the the most powerful Zelandoni on earth? The First must see a lot of potential in her, but inside she must be pulled so many ways.
Only these five visitors would be going into the cave at this time. The rest of the visitors would go another time and might not see as much. The Caves that watched over the Sacred Site didn’t like too many to go in at one time. There were torches and lamps near the fireplace. That was part of the Watcher’s job, to gather and prepare them so they would be on hand when needed. Everyone took a torch. The Watcher handed out extras, put more of them in a pack, and added some stone lamps and small bladders of oil. When everyone had a fire holder to light the way, the Watcher started in.
There was enough daylight coming into the entrance chamber to get a sense of the huge size of the cave, and a first impression of its disorganized character. A chaotic landscape of stone formations filled the space. Columns of stalactites once attached to the ceiling and their stalagmitic mates had dropped down as though the floor had fallen out from under them, some tipped over, some collapsed, some shattered. There was a sense of immediacy in the way they were strewn about, yet everything was so frozen in time they were iced with a thick caramel layer of glistening stalagmitic frosting.
The Watcher started humming as she led them toward the left, staying close to the wall. The rest followed in single file, with the First next in line, then Ayla, followed by Jonokol and Willamar, with Jondalar at the end. He was tall enough to see over the heads of the rest and thought of himself as a sort of protective rear guard, though he had no idea from what they needed to be protected.
Even well into the cave there was still enough light coming in from the entrance that it was not entirely dark. Instead the cave was suffused with a kind of deep twilight, especially once eyes became accustomed to the shadowed ambience. As they moved inside and passed by with their lamps or torches, the coloration of the stone the light illuminated varied from thin new icicles of pure white to lumpy gray stumps hoary with age. Flowing draperies hung from above, striped along the folds in shades of yellow, orange, red, and white. Shining lights of crystal caught the eye, reflecting and amplifying the meager light, some glittering off the floor covered by a white film of calcite. They saw fantastical sculptures that kindled the imagination and colossal white columns that glowed with translucent mystery. It was an utterly beautiful cave.
In the vague light they reached a place where the space seemed to open out. The sides of the chamber disappeared and in front of them, except for a gleaming white disk, the emptiness seemed to go on and on. Ayla felt that they had entered another area that was even larger than the entrance chamber. Though the ceiling was hung with strange and magnificent stalactites that resembled long white hair, the floor was unusually level, like the calm, still lake it once was. But now the floor of the huge chamber was cluttered with skulls and bones and teeth, and the shallow depressions that had been the beds of hibernating cave bears.
The Watcher, who had been humming continuously, started increasing the volume of her sound until the intensity and force of the droning was louder than Ayla, who was standing beside her, would have thought possible for anyone to make, but there was no reverberation. The noise was swallowed by the immensity of the empty space inside the stone cliff. Next the One Who Was First started singing the Mother’s Song in her deep, rich operatic contralto.
Out of the darkness, the chaos of time,
The whirlwind gave birth to the Mother sublime.
She woke to Herself knowing life had great worth,
The dark empty void grieved the Great Mother Earth.
The Mother was lonely. She was the only.
From the dust of Her birth She created the other,
A pale shining friend, a companion, a brother.
They grew up together, learned to love and to care,
And when She was ready, they decided to pair.
Around Her he’d hover. Her pale shining lover.
She was happy at first with Her one counterpart …
The First hesitated, then stopped. There was no resonance, no echo coming back. The cave was telling them that this was not the place for people. This space belonged to the cave bears. She wondered if there were any images in the empty room. The Watcher would know.
“Zelandoni who watches over this cave,” she said formally, “did the ancients make any images in the room ahead?”
“No,” the woman said. “This room isn’t ours to paint. We can go into the room in spring, just as they often go into our place in this cave, but the Mother has given this room to the cave bears for their winter sleep.”
“That must be why people decided not to live here,” Ayla said. “When I first saw this cave I thought it ought to be a good place to live and wondered why a Cave had not chosen it. Now I know.”