THE SHELTERS OF STONE

"Jondalar's hearth is exactly where it should be," Marthona said with a slight smile of satisfaction. "It was an exceptional situation, and it was decided by the leaders and the zelandonia, as it should have been. It's not for someone like Laramar to say."

"Perhaps that's the thing to do," the First said. "I think I'll talk to Dalanar about having the zelandonia and the leaders gather and talk about this problem over Joplaya and Echozar, bring it out in the open and perhaps give those people who feel some objections an opportunity to air their feelings."

"That might be a time for Jondalar and Ayla to talk about their experiences with flatheads… the Clan, as she calls them," Joharran said. "I've been wanting to have a talk with the other leaders about them anyway."

"Perhaps we can go over and talk to him now," Zelandoni said. "I need to get back to the lodge. I've got a problem. Someone from among the zelandonia is passing around information that is supposed to be kept private. Some of it is very personal information about certain people, and some is knowledge that shouldn't be talked about outside the zelandonia. I need to find out who it is, or at the least put a stop to it."

Ayla had been listening very carefully to all that was said, and she thought about it as everyone got up and went in various directions. The people of the Zelandonii made her think of a river. While the surface might appear calm and smooth, there could be many undercurrents at many different levels. She thought that probably Marthona and Zelandoni knew more about what was going on under the surface than most, but she guessed that even they didn't know all of it, not even about each other. She had noted certain expressions, postures, tones of voice, that gave her clues about what might be deeper, but as with Zelandoni's problem with someone telling things, even after that problem was resolved, there would be something else. The deep currents would shift and slide, leave little ripples on the surface and eddies around the sides. It would never come to an end as long as there were people.

"I'm going to go see to the horses," she said to Jondalar. "Are you coming, or do you have something else to do?"

"I'll come with you, but wait a moment," Jondalar said. "I want to get the spear-thrower and spears I'm making for Lanidar. I'm almost finished with them and I'd like to test them out, but I'm too big. I was hoping you might be able to do it. I know they will be small for you, too, but maybe you can get a sense if they will work for him."

"I'm sure they'll be fine, but I'll try them," she said. "The best one to know will be Lanidar himself, and he won't even know until he gains some real skill. This will give him something to practice with, and I'm sure he'll be pleased. I have a feeling you are going to make that boy very happy."

The sun was approaching its zenith when they started gathering up their things. They had brushed the horses, and Ayla checked them over carefully. When the season warmed, flying insects often tried to lay eggs in the moist, warm corners of the eyes of various ruminants, deer and horses in particular. Iza had taught her about the clear fluid from the bluish-white plant that was like a dead thing and that grew in shaded woods. It drew its nourishment from decaying wood since it lacked the living green chlorophyll of other plants, and its waxy surface turned black when touched, but there was no better treatment for sore or inflamed eyes than the cool liquid that oozed from a broken stem.

She had tried out the small spear-thrower and decided it would work just fine for Lanidar. Jondalar had finished the spears he was working on, but decided to make a few more when he saw a small stand of straight young alders with slender trunks, just the right diameter for small spears. He cut down several. Ayla wasn't sure what it was that made her want to go into the woods beside the creek beyond the horse enclosure.

"Where are you going, Ayla?" Jondalar asked. "We should be heading back. I need to go to the main camp this afternoon."

"I won't be long," she said.

Jondalar could see her moving through the screen of trees and wondered if she had seen something moving back there. Maybe something that could be a danger to the horses. Maybe he should go with her, he was thinking when he heard her cry out in a loud scream.

"No! Oh, no!"

The man raced as fast as his long legs could go toward the sound, crashing through brush and bruising himself banging into a tree. When he reached her, he cried out a denial, too, and dropped to his knees.

Chapter 35

In the mud at the edge of the small stream, Jondalar bent over Ayla. She was lying almost flat beside the large wolf, who was down on his side, holding his head in her hands. A torn bloody ear was staining the back of her hand. He tried to lick her face.

"It's Wolf! He's hurt!" Ayla said. The tears streaming down her face left white streaks through a muddy smudge on her cheek.