The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [127]
“I never thought of it that way,” Jondalar said. “When you taught the Mamutoi Lion Camp to ‘speak’ the Clan way with signs, so Rydag could communicate, everyone, particularly the youngsters, made a game of it, had fun giving each other signals. But when we got to the Summer Meeting, it became more serious when we were around everybody else but wanted to let someone from the Lion Camp know something privately. I remember one time in particular when Talut was telling the Lion Camp not to say something until later, because there were some people nearby whom he didn’t want to know. I don’t recall what it was now.”
“So, if I understand you correctly, you could say something in words, and at the same time say something else, or clarify some meaning privately, with these hand signs,” the One Who Was First said. She had stopped walking, and the frown of concentration indicated that she was thinking of something she felt was important.
“Yes, you could,” Ayla said.
“Would it be very difficult to learn this sign language?”
“It would be if you tried to learn it completely, with all of its shades of meaning,” Ayla said, “but I taught the Lion Camp a simplified version, the way children are taught at first.”
“But it was enough to communicate,” Jondalar said. “You could have a conversation … well, maybe not about the finer points of some intricate idea.”
“Perhaps you should teach the zelandonia this simplified sign language,” the First said. “I can see where it could be quite useful, to pass on information, or to clarify a point.”
“Or if you ever met one of the Clan and wanted to say something,” Jondalar said. “It helped me when we met Guban and Yorga just before we crossed the small glacier.”
“Yes, that too,” Zelandoni said. “Maybe we could make arrangements for a few teaching sessions next year, at the Summer Meeting. Of course, you could teach the Ninth Cave during the next cold season.” She paused again. “You’re right, though, it wouldn’t work in the dark. So they don’t go into caves at all?”
“They go into them; they just don’t go in very far. And when they do, they light the way very well. I don’t think they would go this far into a cave,” Ayla said, “except alone, or for special reasons. The mog-urs sometimes went into deeper caves.” Ayla vividly recalled a cave at the Clan Gathering, where she followed some lights and saw the mog-urs, the holy men.
They started walking again, each caught up in private thoughts. After a while Zelandoni started singing again. When they had gone another distance that was not quite as far as it had been to the first paintings on the walls, the sound of Zelandoni’s voice developed more resonance, seemed to echo from the walls of the cave, and Wolf began to howl again. The First stopped and this time faced the right wall of the cave. Ayla and Jondalar again saw mammoths, two of them, not painted but engraved, plus a bison, and what appeared to be some strange marks made with fingers in softened clay or something similar.
“I always knew he was a zelandoni,” the First said.
“Who?” Jondalar asked, although he thought he knew.
“Wolf, of course. Why do you think he ‘sings’ when we come to the places where the spirit world is near?”
“The spirit world is near, here in this place?” Jondalar said, looking around and feeling a touch of apprehension.
“Yes, we are very close to the Mother’s Sacred Underworld here,” said the Spiritual Leader of the Zelandonii.
“Is that why you are sometimes called the Voice of Doni? Because when you sing you can find these places?” Jondalar said.
“It’s one reason. It also means that sometimes I speak for the Mother, as when I am the Surrogate of the Original Ancestress, the Original