THE SHELTERS OF STONE

Inside the zelandonia lodge, the First moved aside the drape that covered the concealed private access at the rear of the large dwelling, directly across from the regular entrance, and pushed the screen aside. She peeked out and scanned the assembly area that came down from the hillside behind and opened out onto the camp. People had been gathering all afternoon and it was nearly full. It was time.

The men filed out first. When Jondalar looked up the slope, he was sure that every person who possibly could be there was in attendance. The murmuring hum of the crowd increased, and he thought he heard the word "white" more than once. He kept his eyes on the back of the man in front of him, but he knew the white leather tunic was making an impression. In fact, it was more than the white tunic. The tall, incredibly handsome, fair-haired man with the captivating eyes would have stood out anyway, but when his blond hair was clean it was nearly white, and bathed and freshly shaved, wearing the pure, shining white tunic, he was stunning.

"If I could imagine Doni's lover, Lumi, come to earth in human form, there he stands," said Jondecam's mother, the tall blond Zelandoni of the Second Cave to her younger brother, Kimeran, the leader of the Second Cave.

"I wonder where he got that white tunic. I wouldn't mind one like it," Kimeran said.

"I think every man here must feel that way, though I think you'd be one of the few who might wear it as well, Kimeran," she said. In her opinion, her brother was not only as tall and fair as his friend Jondalar, he was as handsome, or nearly so. "Jondecam looks wonderful, too. I'm glad he kept his beard this summer. He looks so good in it."

After the men lined up, forming a semicircle around one side of the huge bonfire, it was the women's turn. Ayla strained to see out when the entrance drape was finally opened. It was almost evening. The sun, not quite set, overwhelmed the large ceremonial fire with its coruscating brilliance and made indistinct the torches that had been placed around the area. They would be welcome enough later. She could see several people near the fire. The large figure with her back to her had to be Zelandoni. A signal was given and the women came out. The moment Ayla stepped outside the lodge, she saw the tall figure in the white leather. As they formed a semicircle opposite the men, she said to herself, He's wearing it! He's wearing my tunic. Everyone was dressed in his finest, but no one else was wearing white, and he stood out from all the rest. In her mind, he was by far the most beautiful… no, the most handsome man there. Most agreed with her. She saw him looking at her across the intervening distance, well lighted by the large fire, and he was staring as though he couldn't look anyplace else.

She is so beautiful, he thought. She had never looked so beautiful. The deep straw-colored, dark golden-yellow tunic Nezzie had made for her, with pale ivory highlights of decorative beads, almost perfectly matched her hair, which tumbled down loosely, the way he liked it best.

Her only jewelry were the amber earrings in her newly pierced ears-the matched ambers from Tulie, he remembered-and the amber-and-shell necklace Marthona had given to her. The brilliant yellow-orange stones picked up highlights from the setting sun and shone resplendently between her bare breasts. The tunic, open in front but cinched at the waist, was unlike any of the others, but it suited Ayla perfectly.

Marthona, watching from the front of the audience, was pleasantly surprised when her son appeared in the white tunic. She knew the garment he had originally chosen, and it wasn't hard to conclude that the white tunic was in the package she had delivered to Jondalar. The lack of decoration enhanced the simple purity of the color, which was embellishment enough. It didn't need any more, although the ermine tails were a nice touch. She had seen the few bowls and implements Ayla used and noticed her penchant for simple but well-made objects. The white tunic was an outstanding example of that. There was something to be said for letting quality be its own adornment.

The simplicity of his outfit also made a striking contrast to hers. Marthona was certain that attempts would be made to copy Ayla's outfit by more than one of the women watching, though probably none would get it quite right. She had examined it carefully when Ayla first showed it to her and knew the exquisite quality of the workmanship. Her outfit displayed wealth in the only way that had meaning for the Zelandonii: the time it took to make it. From the quality of the leather to the amber and the shells and the teeth, to the several thousand individually hand-carved ivory beads, this mating outfit was going to prove her case for Ayla's high status. Her son's hearth would be among the first.