The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [143]
“We have a couple of firestones, but I haven’t learned to use them yet,” the young acolyte said. “Would you show me how you do that so fast?”
“Of course. It just takes some practice,” Ayla said. “But now, I think you should show me this cave.” As the young woman headed deeper in, Ayla wondered what this Sacred Place would be like.
Some light was coming from the opening that led outside, but without the light from the torches, they would not have been able to see their way, and the floor of the cave was very uneven. Pieces of the ceiling had fallen down and sections of walls had collapsed in. They had to walk very carefully, climbing up and over the stones. Shevola headed for the left wall and then stayed close to it. She stopped where the cave narrowed and seemed to divide into two tunnels. The right side was wide and easy to enter; the other passage on the left side was quite narrow and got smaller. As one looked into it, it appeared to be a dead end.
“This cave is misleading,” Shevola said. “The larger opening is on the right, and you might think that would be the way to go, but it leads nowhere. A little farther along, it divides again and both ways get smaller and smaller, then just end. Here on the left, the cave gets very narrow and small, but once you get past that, it opens out again.” Shevola held up her torch, pointing out a few faint tracings on the left wall. “Those were put there to let someone who isn’t familiar with this cave know that this is the way to go, if they understand what the markings mean.”
“That would be someone in the zelandonia, I suppose,” Ayla said.
“Usually,” Shevola said, “but youngsters sometimes like to explore caves, and they often work out what the markings mean.” After a short distance, the young woman stopped. “This is a good place to sound your sacred Voice,” she said. “Do you have one yet?”
“I haven’t decided,” Ayla said. “I’ve whistled like birds, but I also roared like a lion. Zelandoni sings and it is always beautiful, but when she sang in the mammoth cave, it was unbelievable. What do you do?”
“I sing, too, but not like the First. I’ll show you.” Shevola made a very high-pitched sound, then dropped to a low pitch, then continuously increased her pitch until she reached the first sound. The cave sang back a muted echo.
“That is remarkable,” Ayla said, then whistled her medley of birdsong.
“Now that is remarkable,” Shevola said. “It really sounded like birds. How did you learn to do that?”
“After I left the Clan and before I met Jondalar, I lived in a valley far to the east. I used to feed the birds to entice them to come back, and then started to mimic their calls. Sometimes they would come when I whistled, so I practiced more.”
“Did you say you could roar like a lion, too?”
Ayla smiled. “Yes, and whinny like a horse and howl like a wolf, and even laugh like a hyena. I started trying to make the sounds of many animals, because it was fun, and challenging.” And something to do when you are alone, and birds and animals are your only company, she thought, but didn’t say out loud. Sometimes she avoided mentioning things just because it would have required too much explanation.
“I know some hunters that can make pretty good animal sounds, especially to entice them closer, like the call of a male red deer and the bawl of an aurochs calf, but I’ve never heard anyone make a lion roar,” Shevola said, looking at her with a hopeful expression.
Ayla smiled, took a deep breath, then faced the cave opening and started with a few preliminary grunts, the way a lion did. Then she let out a roar, like one Baby used to make after he reached maturity. It may not have been as loud as the roar of a real lion, but