Ayla, holding both of her hands, concentrated on them. They were stiff and the skin was stretched, bumpy and irregular, and probably still a little painful, she thought.
“… in the name of Doni, I welcome you, Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii.”
“Are your hands still giving you some pain, Dulana?” Ayla asked. “Some willow-bark tea would probably help if they are. I have some with me if you need it.”
“I can get some from our Zelandoni, but I didn’t know if I should keep on taking it,” Dulana said.
“If you are still feeling pain, then do it. It keeps the heat and redness away, too. And I was just thinking that maybe you, or someone you know, could make some fine soft skins, maybe rabbit skins, and put together some mittens for you, except with fingers. Then when you meet people, they probably wouldn’t notice that your hands are a little rough. And do you have some nice clean white tallow? I can make a hand softening cream for you. Maybe add some beeswax, and rose petals to make it smell nice. I have some of both with me. You could rub it on during the day, and wear it under your finger-mittens, too. You can put it on your face to soften those burn scars and help them fade away,” Ayla said, thinking as she was talking of what could be done to help the woman.
Suddenly Dulana started crying.
“What’s wrong, Dulana?” Ayla said. “Did I say something to upset you?”
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“No. It’s just the first time anyone has said anything to me that gave me hope,” Dulana sobbed. “I was feeling that my life was ruined, that everything had changed so much, nothing would ever be the same, but you make the burns and the scars seem like nothing, like no one will even notice, and you tell me all these things that can help. Our Zelandoni tries, but he’s so young, and healing isn’t his best talent.” The young woman paused and looked directly at Ayla. “I think I know why the First chose you for her acolyte, even if you weren’t born to the Zelandonii. She is the First, and you are First Acolyte. Should I call you that?”
Ayla gave her a wry smile. “I know that someday I will probably have to give up my name and be called ‘Zelandoni of the Ninth Cave,’ but not too soon, I hope. I like being called Ayla. It’s my name, the name my real mother gave me, or close to it anyway. It’s the only thing I have left from her.”
“Ayla, then, and how do you say the name of this wolf?” He had put his head back down on her leg again, and she found it comforting.
“Wolf,” Ayla said.
Dulana made an attempt at the name, and Wolf lifted his head and looked at her, acknowledging her effort.
“Why don’t you come out and meet everyone,” Ayla said. “The Trade Master is with us and he tells wonderful stories about his travels, and the First might sing some of the Elder Legends, and she has a beautiful voice. You shouldn’t miss out.”
“I guess maybe I could,” Dulana said, softly. She had been feeling lonely staying inside her dwelling by herself while everyone else was enjoying the visitors. When she got up and walked out, Wolf stayed close to her. Everyone from the Cave, especially the Zelandoni, was surprised to see her, and even more to see the way the four-legged hunter seemed to have developed a protective closeness to her. Instead of Ayla, or even Jonayla, he chose to sit beside Dulana. The First glanced at her acolyte and gave her an inconspicuous nod of approval.
In the morning the visitors and some of the local residents prepared to visit the nearby painted cave. There were several stone shelters in the region, many of them home to various Caves, usually named with their own counting words, though on occasion two or three that lived close to each other joined together to make a single Cave. Most were empty now, with the people doing their usual summer traveling. A few people from nearby Caves who did not make the trek to their Summer Meeting had come to stay where there was a Zelandoni in residence.
All eight adults who were traveling on the Donier Tour, plus five who were staying at the Fourth Cave of the South Land Zelandonii, were in the group who came to see the Sacred Site, which included the two hunters who normally lived at the nearby stone shelter. Dulana had offered to watch Jonayla, Ayla suspected she missed her children. Jonayla was willing to stay with the woman, and Wolf was willing to stay with both of them, so Ayla agreed. Although the child could walk, she was only a four-year, so Ayla often carried her. Jondalar also carried her occasionally, but Ayla was so used to carrying her daughter, she felt as if she had forgotten something when they started out.
They reached the small stone shelter that the First had pointed out to Ayla on their way there. The opening faced east and it was obvious that the site had been used as a living space at times. The dark charcoal circle of a former fireplace was still partially surrounded with stones, though some were missing. A couple of larger chunks of limestone that had broken loose from wall or ceiling had been dragged closer to it for seating. A torn and discarded leather covering lay in a pile near a wall next to a few large and awkward pieces of wood that would likely last through the night if the fire was big and hot enough to get them started.
The entrance to the cave was at the north end of the abri under a short section of overhanging ledge, which was weathering and shedding pieces of broken rock that were beginning to pile up in front of the opening that led inside the wall of stone.
The Zelandoni had put some wood, tinder, and a fire-making drill and platform along with some stone lamps into a backframe that he slipped off near the firepit. Then he began to organize the materials. When she saw what he was doing, Ayla reached into a leather pouch hanging from her waist thong and retrieved two stones. One was a strong piece of flint in a sturdy blade shape, the other a walnut-sized chunk of stone with a silvery-brassy metallic luster. A groove had been worn into the shiny stone from being struck repeatedly by the flint blade.
“Will you allow me to start a fire?” Ayla asked.
“I’m pretty good at it. It won’t take me long,” the Zelandoni said as he started to cut a notch in the platform for the pointed end of the wooden drill he would twirl between his hands.
“She can do it faster,” Willamar said with a grin.
“You seem very sure,” the young Zelandoni said, beginning to feel a bit competitive. He was rather proud of his fire-making skill. There were few who could make a fire from scratch faster than he could.
“Why don’t you let her show you,” Jonokol said.
“Fine,” the young man said, then stood up and backed away. “Go ahead.”
Ayla knelt down by the dark, cold fireplace, then looked up. “May I use your tinder and kindling, since it’s here?” she asked.
“Why not?” the local Zelandoni said.
Ayla piled the light, dry tinder together, then bent down close to it. She struck the iron pyrite with the flint, and the young Zelandoni thought for a moment that he saw a flash of light. Ayla struck again, this time drawing off a large spark that landed on the desiccated, easily flammable material and brought forth a bit of smoke that she started blowing on. In a moment there was a small flame, which she fed with more tinder, then slightly larger pieces, then kindling, then small wood. When it was established, she sat back on her heels. The young Zelandoni stood with his mouth agape.
“You’ll catch flies that way,” the Trade Master said, grinning.