The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [258]
“Or, if you need anyone to help carry you,” Jondalar added, “my shoulders are strong and I have carried people that way before.”
“I thank you for your offers, but I have to tell you that it makes me tired to go visiting much. I used to love it. Now, even with someone carrying me, it’s hard. I almost didn’t come on this Journey, but if I hadn’t, there would have been no one left to help me, and I can’t manage without help. I do like it when people visit me, though.”
“Do you know how many years you can count?” the One Who Was First asked.
“About fourteen years,” he said. “I reached manhood two summers ago, but things have been getting worse since then.”
The First nodded. “When a boy reaches manhood, his body wants to grow,” she said.
“And mine doesn’t know how to grow right,” Romitolo said.
“But you know how to think, and that is more than many can say,” the First said. “I hope you live many more years. I think you have much to offer.”
The three women of the zelandonia rejoined each other later in the afternoon at the travelers’ campsite. The large gathering area was too busy. What had started out to be a meeting of the neighboring zelandonia had turned into an unscheduled Summer Meeting, and those who were cooking meals had taken over the covered space of the pavilion. No one else was in camp at the moment, and Ayla’s sleeping tent was being used as a quiet place to talk. Even then they spoke softly.
“Should the hemlock be served tonight, or should we wait until tomorrow night?” the First said.
“I don’t think there is any need to wait. I think we should get it over with as quickly as possible,” Zelandoni First said. “And the water parsnips should be cooked while they are fresh, although they will keep for a while. I have an assistant, not quite an acolyte, but a woman who helps me a lot. I will ask her to cook the hemlock roots.”
“Will you tell her what they are and who they are for?” the First asked.
“Of course. It would be dangerous for her if she didn’t know exactly what she was cooking and why.”
“Is there anything you want me to do?” Ayla asked.
“You’ve done your share,” the First said. “You gathered the plants to begin with.”
“Then I think I will go and find Jondalar. I haven’t seen him all day,” Ayla said. “When are we going to visit the Sacred Site?”
“I think it’s best to wait a few days, after this whole Balderan matter is finished,” Zelandoni First said.
Balderan and his men had been watching both Ayla and Jondalar, and Wolf, very closely, though not overtly. It was getting dark and close to the time when the evening meal would be served. It wasn’t officially being called a feast, but it would be a communal meal to which everyone was contributing, so it felt like a major celebration.
Ayla and Jondalar weren’t entirely sure where the men were being held; it changed somewhat depending upon who was watching them. They were deeply involved in conversation with each other, and nearly walked into Balderan and his men.
Balderan looked around quickly, and noticed that the wolf was not with them. The men who were supposed to be watching them also seemed distracted and not paying attention. “Let’s do it now!” he said.
Suddenly Balderan jumped out, grabbed Ayla, and the next instant had a leather thong around her neck. “Stay back or she dies!” Balderan shouted as he pulled tight on the cord. Ayla gasped, trying to breathe.
The other men had armed themselves with stones that they were threatening to throw or perhaps use to hit her or whoever came after them. Balderan had been waiting for this moment. He had planned how it would go in his mind, and now that he had her, he was enjoying it. He was going to kill her, maybe not right away, but he was going to enjoy it. He was sure he knew how the big “gentle giant” of a man would react.
But Balderan didn’t know that Jondalar had cultivated that calm and restrained demeanor as part