“… there lived a woman and her mate and her three children. The eldest was a boy named Kimacal.” When the Storyteller mentioned the first of the woman’s offspring, a young man who was also on the platform stepped forward and made a slight bow, implying that he was the one referred to. “The next one was a girl named Karella.” A young woman did a pirouette that ended in a bow when he mentioned the second child. “The youngest one was a boy named Wolafon.” Another young man pointed to himself and grinned proudly when the third child was announced.
There was a slight murmur in the audience, and a few chuckles when the name of the youngest child was mentioned as people perceived a connection with Ayla’s name for her four-legged hunter.
Although he wasn’t shouting, Ayla noticed that the storyteller’s voice could be heard very well by the entire audience. He had a special way of speaking that was powerful, clear, and expressive. It made her think of her visit to the cave with the Zelandoni of the Twenty-sixth and his acolyte and the sounds the three of them had made in front of the cave before crawling in. It occurred to her that Galliadal could have become one of the zelandonia, if he wished.
“Though they were old enough, none of the young people were mated yet. Their Cave was small and they were closely related to most of the people near their age. The mother was beginning to worry that they would have to go far away to find mates, and she might not see them again. She had heard of an old Zelandoni who lived alone in a cave some distance up the river to the north. Some people talked in whispers about her, saying she could make things happen, but she might exact a payment that would be hard to make. The mother decided to go and find her,” the storyteller said.
“One day after she returned, the woman sent her children out to the edge of a stream to collect cattail roots. When they arrived they met three other young people, a girl about the age of Kimacal, a boy about the age of Karella, and a girl about the age of Wolafon.”
This time the first young man on the platform smiled coquettishly when the older girl was mentioned, the young woman took a bravado stance, and the other young man assumed the posture of a shy young girl. There was laughter from the audience. When Ayla and Jondalar looked at each other, both were smiling.
“The three newcomers were strangers who had recently arrived from the land to the south. As all of them had been taught was appropriate, they greeted each other and introduced themselves, reciting their important names and ties.
“ ‘We have come looking for food,’ the eldest visitor explained.” Galliadal changed the timbre of his voice when he spoke as the young woman.
“ ‘There are many cattails here; we can share them,’ Karella said.” The young woman mouthed the words Galliadal spoke, again changing his tone. “They all started pulling cattail roots out of the soft mud by the edge of the stream, Kimacal helping the older foreign girl, Karella showing the middle boy where to dig, and Wolafon pulling out some roots for the shy younger girl, but the fair young woman wouldn’t accept them. Wolafon could see that his brother and sister were enjoying the company of their pleasurable new friends, becoming very friendly.”
The laughter was now quite loud. Not only were the innuendos obvious, the young man portraying the older brother and the young woman on the platform were in an exaggerated embrace, while the younger brother looked on with envy. When Galliadal narrated, he changed his voice for each character as he spoke for them, while the others on the raised platform demonstrated, often very dramatically.
“ ‘These are good cattails. Why won’t you eat them?’ Wolafon asked the appealing stranger, ‘I cannot eat cattails,’ the young woman said. ‘I can only eat meat.’ ” When he spoke as the woman, he pitched his voice quite high.
“Wolafon didn’t know what to do. ‘Maybe I can hunt for some meat for you,’ he said, but he knew he wasn’t a very good hunter. He usually went along on game drives. He meant well, but he was a little lazy and never tried very hard to hunt himself. He went back to the home of his mother’s Cave.
“ ‘Kimacal and Karella shared cattails with a woman and man from the south,’ he told his mother. ‘They have found mates, but the woman I want can’t eat cattails. She can only eat meat, and I’m not a very good hunter. How can I find food for her?’ ” Galliadal related.
Ayla wondered if “sharing cattails”
had some second meaning that she wasn’t familiar with, like a joke she didn’t understand, since the storyteller went from eating cattails together to being mated in the next breath.
“ ‘There is an old Zelandoni who lives alone in a cave north of here near the river,’ his mother said. ‘She may be able to help you. But be careful what you ask for. You may get exactly what you want.’ ” Galliadal again changed the timbre of his voice when he spoke as the mother.
“Wolafon set out to find the old Zelandoni. He traveled upriver for many days, looking into all the caves he happened to see along the way. He was almost ready to give up, but he saw a small cave high up in a cliff and decided that would be the last cave he would investigate. He found an old woman sitting in front of it, who seemed to be sleeping. He approached quietly, not wanting to disturb her, but he was curious and looked at her carefully,” Galliadal continued.
“Her clothes were nondescript, the same kind of thing most people wore, though rather shapeless and shabby. But she wore many necklaces made of a variety of materials: beads and shells; several pierced animal teeth and claws; animals carved out of ivory, bone, antler, and wood; some of stone and amber; and disk-shaped medallions with animals carved on them. There were so many objects on the necklaces, Wolafon couldn’t even see them all, but even more impressive were her facial tatoos. They were so intricate and embellished, he could hardly see her skin under all the squares, swirls, curlicues, and flourishes. She was without doubt a Zelandoni of great stature and Wolafon was a little fearful of her. He didn’t know if he should bother her with his little request.”
The woman on the platform had seated herself and although she hadn’t changed clothes, the way she wrapped them around herself gave the impression of an old woman in the shapeless clothing Galliadal had described.
“Wolafon decided to leave, but as he turned to go, he heard a voice, ‘What do you want from me, boy?’ she said.” Galliadal’s voice took on the sound of an older woman, not thin and quavery, but powerful and mature.
“Wolafon gulped, then turned around. He introduced himself properly, then said, ‘My mother told me you might be able to help me.’
“ ‘What is your problem?’
“ ‘I met a woman, who came from the south. I wanted to share cattails with her, but she said she couldn’t eat cattails, she could only eat meat. I love her and I would hunt for her but I am not a very good hunter. Can you help me to become a good hunter?’
“ ‘Are you sure she wants you to hunt for her?’ the old Zelandoni asked. ‘If she doesn’t want your cattails, it may be that she won’t want your meat, either. Did you ask her?’
“ ‘When I offered her the cattails, she said she couldn’t eat them, not that she didn’t want to, and when I told her I would hunt for her, she didn’t say no,’ Wolafon said.” The voice Galliadal used for the young man sounded hopeful, and the expression of the young man on the platform mimicked the tone.
“ ‘You know that all it takes to become a good hunter is practice, lots of practice,’ the old Zelandoni told him.
“ ‘Yes, I know. I should have practiced more.’ ” The young man on the platform looked down, as though contrite.
“ ‘But you didn’t practice, did you? Now, because a young woman interests you, you want to suddenly become a hunter, is that right?’ ” Galliadal’s tone as the old Zelandoni became a reprimand.
“ ‘I suppose so.’ ” The young man looked even more ashamed. “ ‘But I adore her.’ ”
“ ‘You must always earn whatever you get. If you don’t want to make the effort to practice, you must pay for the skill some other way. You give your effort to practice, or you give something else. What are you willing to give?’ the old woman asked.