And he’s probably homesick and lonesome for her already, Ayla thought, as she handed Jonayla to him. It was obvious that he was comfortable holding a baby. “Do you have many brothers and sisters?” she asked.
“I guess so. She’s the youngest, I’m the oldest, and there are four in between, including two born together,” he said.
“I think you must be quite a help to your mother. She is going to miss you. How many years do you count?” she said.
“I’m a thirteen-year,” he said. He became aware of her unusual accent again. When he had first heard the foreign woman speak, the year before, he had thought her accent was quite strange, but when he was recovering, especially when he woke up after the accident and was in so much pain, he grew to look forward to that accent because she invariably brought some relief. And although the other Zelandonia also checked on him, she came regularly, and stayed to talk to him and straighten his bedding to make him comfortable, as well as giving him medicine.
“And you have reached your manhood and had your rites last summer,” a voice behind Ayla said. It was Jondalar, who had been hearing the conversation as he approached them. The style of Matagan’s clothing, the patterns that had been sewn on them, and the beads and jewelry he wore told Jondalar that the youngster was considered a man of the Fifth Cave of the Zelandonii.
“Yes, last summer at the Meeting,” Matagan said. “Before I was hurt.”
“Now that you are a man, it’s time for you to learn a skill. Have you done much flint knapping?”
“Some. I can make a spear point and a knife, or reshape one that is broken. They aren’t the best, but they work,” the boy said.
“Perhaps the question I should ask is, do you like working the flint?” Jondalar said.
“I like it when it goes right. Sometimes it doesn’t.”
Jondalar smiled. “Even for me, sometimes it doesn’t,” he said. “Have you eaten?”
“I just finished,” Matagan said.
“Well, we haven’t yet,” Jondalar said. “We just got back from a short trip to see some of our neighbors and find out if they suffered any injuries or damage from the earthquake. You know that Ayla is acolyte to the First, don’t you?”
“I think everyone knows that,” he said, shifting Jonayla around to lean against his shoulder.
“Did you feel the earthquake?” Ayla asked. “Was anyone in your traveling party hurt?”
“We felt it. Some people were knocked down, but no one was really hurt,” he said. “I think everyone was scared, though. I know I was.”
“I can’t think of anyone who wouldn’t be afraid during an earthquake. We’ll get something to eat; then we’ll show you where you can stay. We haven’t set anything up special, yet, but we’ll work it out later,” Jondalar said as they headed toward the other side of the shelter where people were gathered.
Ayla reached for Jonayla.
“I can hold her while you get some food,” Matagan said. “If she’ll let me.”
“Let’s see if she will,” Ayla said, turning toward the firepit where the food had been set out. Suddenly Wolf appeared. He had stopped for water when they reached the Ninth Cave, and then found that someone had put some food in his bowl. Matagan’s eyes opened wider with surprise, but he had seen the wolf before and he didn’t seem overly frightened of the animal. Ayla had introduced the wolf to Matagan the year before when she was taking care of him, and the animal sniffed the young m
an who was holding the baby of his pack, and recognized his scent. When the boy sat down, the wolf sat down beside him. Jonayla seemed happy with the arrangement.
By the time they finished eating, it was getting dark. There were always some prepared torches ready for lighting near the main fire where the group often gathered and Jondalar took one and lit it. They all had traveling gear with them—backframes, sleeping rolls, traveling tents. Jondalar helped Ayla with some of hers, while she carried the baby, but Matagan seemed to be able to handle his own, including a sturdy staff that he sometimes used to walk with. He didn’t seem to need it all the time. Ayla suspected he had used it on the long walk from the Sun View, the place of the Summer Meeting, to the Ninth Cave, but probably could get by just fine for shorter distances.
When they reached their dwelling, Jondalar went in first, lighting the way, and held open the drape across the entrance. Matagan went in next, followed by Ayla.
“Why don’t you set up your sleeping roll here in the main room near the fire for now. We’ll work out something better tomorrow,” Jondalar said, suddenly wondering how long Matagan would be living with them.
Part Two
18
“Matagan, have you seen Jonayla and Jondalar?” Ayla called out when she saw the young man walking with a limp, coming out of the addition that had been built next to her dwelling. There were three youths living there now: Matagan; Jonfilar, who had come from the west, near the Great Waters; and Garthadal, whose mother was the leader of his Cave, and had traveled with him from far to the southeast because she had heard of Jondalar’s skill.
After four years, Matagan was the most senior of Jondalar’s apprentices and had gained so much proficiency that he was helping the man train the younger ones. He could have gone back to the Fifth Cave, or almost any other Cave, as an experienced flint-knapper in his own right, but by now he thought of the Ninth Cave as his home and preferred to stay and work with his mentor.
“I saw them earlier heading toward the horse surround. I think I heard him promise her yesterday that he would take her riding today if it didn’t rain. She’s getting good at riding Gray, as little as she is, even if she can’t get on or off by herself yet.”
Ayla smiled to herself with the memory of Jondalar riding Racer with Jonayla sitting in front of him before she was even walking, and they both trained Gray with the child on her back in front of them, her little arms hugging the mare’s thick neck. The young girl and the young mare grew up with each other, and Ayla thought the tie between them was as close as the one between Whinney and herself. Jonayla was good with all the horses, including the stallion—in some ways even better than her mother because she learned to direct him using the halter and lead rope, the way Jondalar did. Ayla still directed Whinney using body language and wasn’t as comfortable riding a horse using Jondalar’s technique.