THE SHELTERS OF STONE

Many people looked at her more than once-especially men, who began to notice how well the garments and belt fit the person wearing them, in spite of what they meant to them. She had been traveling for the past year, walking or riding a horse, and her muscles were firm. The close-fitting boy's winter undergarment emphasized her lean, muscular, well-formed body. Since she hadn't been able to lace the thongs together in front across her firm but rather ample breasts, the opening exposed her cleavage, somehow more enticing than the more familiar naked breasts they often saw. The leggings showed off her long, shapely legs and rounded buttocks, and the cinched belt, in spite of what its design symbolized, accented her waist, only slightly thickened with the early stages of pregnancy.

On Ayla the outfit took on new meaning. Although many women did wear facial ornaments and paint, her lack of them only served to highlight her natural beauty. Her long hair, tumbling loosely in the disarray of natural waves and ringlets that caught the last rays of the setting sun, was an appealing and sensuous contrast to the well-groomed coiffures of the other women. She seemed young and reminded adult men of their own youth and their first awakening to the Great Earth Mother's Gift of Pleasure. It made them wish they were young again and that Ayla was their donii-woman.

The outlandishness of Ayla's clothing was quickly forgotten, accepted as somehow appropriate for the beautiful stranger with the low-pitched voice and exotic accent. It was certainly no more strange than her control over horses and Wolf.

Jondalar noticed people watching Ayla and heard her name mentioned in the undercurrent of conversation. Then he overheard a man say, "That's a remarkably beautiful woman Jondalar has brought home with him."

"You'd expect him to bring a beautiful woman," a woman's voice replied, "but she has courage, too, and a strong will. I'd like to get to know her better."

The comments made Jondalar look at Ayla again, and suddenly he saw the way she looked, not the incongruity of the costume. Few women could claim such an exceptional shape, especially women of her age, who usually had had a child or two to slacken youthful muscle tone. Few would choose to wear such a close-fitting outfit even if it had been appropriate. Most would prefer looser, more concealing, and for them more comfortable clothes. And he did love her hair worn loose like that. She is a beautiful woman, he thought, and courageous. He relaxed and smiled, remembering their afternoon ride and the stop on the high field, thinking how lucky he was.

Marona and her three confederates had returned, still laughing, to her room to repair the damage to their face paint. They had planned to make their appearance later, dressed in their best and most suitable clothing, expecting to make a grand entrance.

Marona had exchanged the loincloth skirt for a long graceful one of very soft pliable leather with a long fringed overskirt, which she wrapped around her waist and hips and tied, but she wore the same decorated short top. Portula had been wearing her favorite skirt and top. Lorava had only the short tunic dress with her, but the other women had loaned her a long fringed overskirt and several extra necklaces and bracelets, and fixed her hair and painted her face much more elaborately than she had ever worn it before. Wylopa, laughing as she removed the decorated shirt and trousers made for a man, had changed into her own highly decorated trousers, dyed an orangy shade of red, and more deeply colored tunic with a dark fringe.

When they were ready, they left the dwelling and walked together to the open front terrace, but when people noticed Marona and her friends, they pointedly turned their backs on them and ignored them. The Zelandonii were not a cruel people. They had laughed at the stranger only because they were startled by the idea of a grown woman wearing a boy's winter underwear and puberty belt. But most of them were not pleased about the crude prank. It had reflected badly on all of them, made them seem to be discourteous and inhospitable. Ayla was their guest and would very likely soon be one of their own. And besides, she had carried it off so well, it showed her mettle, made them proud of her.

The four women saw a large group crowded around someone, and when several people left, they could see Ayla at the center, still wearing the clothes they had given her. She hadn't even changed! Marona was shocked. She had been sure one of Jondalar's kin would have given the newcomer something more appropriate to wear-that is, if she dared to show her face again. But her plans to show up the strange woman that Jondalar had brought back with him, after leaving her in the lurch with nothing but an empty promise, had instead shown what a spiteful and mean-spirited person she was.