35
At first glance, in the distance, Ayla thought it was Jondalar carrying something, coming toward her along the well-worn main path between the camps of several friendly Caves. She felt her stomach tightening to a knot. The height, the shape of the body, the walk were so familiar, but as the man approached, she saw it was Dalanar, carrying Bokovan.
As soon as they neared, Dalanar saw the obvious black marks on her forehead. Ayla noted Dalanar’s look of surprise when he first saw her, then his effort to avoid looking at her forehead, and remembered her marks. She didn’t see them, and tended to forget them.
Is that why Jondalar is behaving so strangely? Dalanar wondered. When he had invited Jondalar to join the Lanzadonii for a meal, along with Ayla and Jonayla, Dalanar had been surprised by Jondalar’s hesitation, and then refusal. He claimed he had already promised to be some other place, but he looked upset and embarrassed. It was as though he were looking for excuses not to join them this evening. He recalled his own reasons for leaving a woman he loved. But I didn’t think Jondalar was bothered by her becoming zelandoni, the older man thought. He always seems to be proud of her skill as a healer, and content to be working the flint and training his apprentices.
“Would you let me carry you for a while, Bokovan? And give Dalanar a rest?” Ayla said, holding out her arms to him, and smiling. The youngster hesitated, them held out his arms to her. She remembered how much he weighed when she picked him up. Ayla, carrying Bokovan, walked alongside Dalanar, who was holding Jonayla’s hand as they headed toward his camp. Wolf followed along behind.
The animal seemed to be perfectly comfortable wandering through the large Camp of people now, and none of the people appeared particularly concerned about him. Ayla had noticed, however, that the Zelandonii took a special delight in the reactions of visitors or strangers who were not accustomed to seeing a wolf mingle so freely with people.
When they arrived, Joplaya and Jerika came to greet her, and Ayla noticed their look of surprise, and not-quite-successful attempt to ignore her new forehead marks. Although there was still an air of sadness about the beautiful dark-haired young woman, whom Jondalar called cousin, Ayla noticed a smile of warm love light up her vivid green eyes as she took her son. Joplaya seemed more relaxed, more accepting of her life, and genuinely pleased to see Ayla.
Jerika also greeted her warmly. “Let me take Bokovan,” she said, taking the child from
his mother’s arms. “I have some food ready for him. You and Ayla can visit.”
Ayla spoke directly to the boy. “I am glad I met you, Bokovan. Will you come to visit me? I’m from the Ninth Cave. Do you know where it is?”
He stared at her for a while, then with great seriousness, he said, “Yeth.”
Ayla could not help but notice both the similarities and the differences between Jerika, Joplaya, and Bokovan before his grandmother took him away. The older woman was short and sturdy, her movements quick and energetic. Her hair, once as dark as the night sky, was now showing sunset streaks of gray. Her face, round and flat with high cheekbones, was more wrinkled, but her black slanted eyes still sparkled with charm and wit.
Ayla remembered Hochaman, the man who had been mated to Jerika’s mother. He had been the traveler, and his mate had chosen to go along with him. Jerika was born along the way. Ayla recalled Dalanar telling the S’Armunai visitor about Hochaman’s long Journey, from the Endless Seas of the East all the way to the Great Waters of the West, with pride. It occurred to her that even though the truth was exceptional in itself, it was the kind of story that would be told and retold, probably growing with each telling until it became a legend or myth, with little resemblance to the original story.
Dalanar had met Jerika some time after he found his flint mine and had been at first intrigued and then captivated by the exotic woman. Several people had already gathered around Dalanar and his flint mine—beginning the nucleus of the Cave that would later be called the Lanzadonii—when Hochaman and Jerika arrived at his camp. They looked so unusual, it was obvious they had come from a great distance. Dalanar had never seen anyone like Jerika. She was tiny in comparison with most women, but intelligent and strong minded, and he was captivated by the exotic young woman. It had taken someone that unusual to finally vanquish his great love for Marthona.
Joplaya was born to Dalanar’s hearth. Ayla now knew that what she had long believed was true; Joplaya was as much Dalanar’s child as she was Jerika’s. But Jondalar had not gone to live with the Lanzadonii until he and Joplaya were both adolescents. They had not been raised together as sister and brother and Joplaya had fallen hopelessly in love with Jondalar, even though he was a “close cousin,” an unmatable man.
Joplaya is as much his sister as Folara, Ayla thought, trying to sort out what the new relationships would mean. Jondalar and Folara are both children of Marthona, and Jondalar and Joplaya are both Dalanar’s children. You can see him in both of them.
Jondalar was a younger replica of Dalanar, while Joplaya showed more of her mother’s influence, but she was tall like Dalanar, and a more subtle contribution showed in other ways. Her hair was dark, but had light highlights. It was not the pure glossy sheen her mother’s had been. Her face had the contours of Dalanar’s people, with her mother’s high cheekbones. But her most stunning feature was her eyes. Neither black like her mother’s nor vivid blue like Dalanar’s—and Jondalar’s—Joplaya’s eyes were a vivid green with accents of hazel, with a shape and epicanthic fold like her mother, but less pronounced. Jerika was obviously a foreigner, but in many ways Joplaya seemed more exotic than her mother because of her similarities.
Joplaya had decided to mate with Echozar because she knew she could never have the man she loved. She chose him, she once told Ayla, because she knew she’d never find a man who would love her more, and she was right. Echozar was one of “mixed spirits”—his mother had been Clan, and many people thought he was as ugly as Joplaya was beautiful. But not Ayla. She was sure Echozar looked the way her son would, when he grew up.
Bokovan exhibited all of the components of his unusual background. The physical strength of the Clan from Echozar along with the height of his mother, and Dalanar, were already obvious. His eyes were only slightly slanted and dark, nearly as dark as Jerika’s, but not exactly black. Touches of a lighter shade or a reflective sparkle gave them a vivid quality she had never seen in such dark eyes. They were not only unusual, they were compelling. She sensed something special about Bokovan and wished the Lanzadonii lived closer; she would love to watch him grow up.
He was only a little younger than her son had been the last time she saw him, and he reminded her so much of Durc it almost hurt. Ayla wondered what kind of mind he would have. Would he have some aspect of the Clan memories along with the capacity to make art and speak with words? Like Dalanar’s and Jerika’s people? She had often thought about her son in the same way.
“Bokovan is a very special child, Joplaya,” Ayla said. “When he’s a little older, I wish you would consider sending him to the Ninth Cave for me to keep for a while.”
“Why?” Joplaya asked.
“Partly because he may have some unique qualities that could lead to the zelandonia, and you might want to know about that, but mostly because I would love to get to know him better,” Ayla said.
Joplaya smiled, then paused. “Would you be willing to send Jonayla to the Lanzadonii to stay with me for a while?”
“I never thought about it,” Ayla said, “but that might be a good idea … in a few years … if she’d be willing to go. Why do you want her?”
“I’ll never have a girl. I’ll never have another child. It was too hard on me giving birth to Bokovan,” Joplaya said.
Ayla remembered the difficulty she had giving birth to her son Durc, the one born to the Clan, and she had heard about Joplaya’s problems. “Are you sure, Joplaya? One difficult birth doesn’t mean they all will be.”
“Our Donier says she doesn’t think I should try. She’s afraid I would die. I came very close with Bokovan. I am taking the medicine that you gave the zelandonia—and mother tries to make sure I take it. I do it to please her, but even if I didn’t, I don’t think it would matter. I don’t think I can get pregnant again. In spite of mother, I stopped taking the medicine for a while. I wanted another child, but Doni chose not to Bless me,” Joplaya said.
Ayla didn’t want to pry, but as a Zelandoni she felt she had to ask, especially now. “Do you honor the Mother frequently? It is important, if you want the Mother to Bless you, that you honor Her properly.”
Joplaya smiled. “Echozar is a sweet and loving man. He may not be the one I wanted, Ayla …” She paused, and for a fleeting moment a look of desolation darkened her expression. Ayla matched it with one of her own, for an entirely different reason. “But I was right when I said no one could love me more than Echozar, and I have truly come to care for him. In the beginning, he could hardly bring himself to touch me, out of fear that he would somehow hurt me, and because, I think, he couldn’t quite believe he had the right. We are beyond that now, although he still acts so grateful sometimes, I have to tease him out of it. He’s even learning to laugh at himself. I think Doni is properly honored.”