The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [263]
“In the name of the Great Earth Mother, you are welcome to Her Most Ancient Sacred Place, First Among Those Who Serve Her,” she said, holding out both hands.
“I greet you, Watcher of Her Most Ancient Sacred Site,” the First replied.
Jonokol was next. “I am Zelandoni of the Nineteenth Cave of the Zelandonii, and I greet you, Watcher of Her Most Ancient Sacred Site. I am told the images inside this Sacred Place are quite striking. I have also made some images, and I am honored to be invited to see this Sacred Site,” he said.
The Watcher smiled. “So you are a Zelandoni Image Maker,” she said. “I think you will be a little surprised at what you see in this cave, and perhaps you will appreciate the artistry more than most. The Ancients who worked here were quite skilled.”
“Are all the images here made by the Ancients?” the Nineteenth asked.
The Watcher heard the unspoken plea in Jonokol’s voice. She had heard it before from artists who came to visit. They wanted to know if they would be allowed to add to the work, and she knew what to say.
“Very nearly, though I do know of a few made more recently. If you feel equal to the task, and compelled to do so, you are free to make your mark here. We put no restrictions on anyone. The Mother chooses. You will know if you are chosen,” the Watcher said. Though many asked, very few actually did feel equal to the task of contributing to the remarkable work inside.
Ayla was the next one. “In the name of the Great Mother of All, I greet you, Watcher of the Most Ancient Sacred Site,” she said, holding out her hands. “I am called Ayla, acolyte to the First Among Those Who Serve The Great Earth Mother.”
She’s not ready to give up her name yet, was the Zelandoni’s first thought. Then she grew conscious that the young woman had spoken with an unusual accent and knew she was the person she had been told about. Most of her Cave thought that all the visitors spoke Zelandonii with what they considered a northern accent, but the way this woman spoke was entirely different. She spoke well, and she obviously knew the language, but the way she made certain sounds was unlike anything she had heard before. There was no doubt that she came from a very distant place.
She looked at the young woman more carefully. Yes, she thought, she’s attractive, but she has a foreign aspect, a different set to her features, a shorter face, wider space between her eyes. Even her hair, it’s not fine, like so many Zelandonii women. It has a thicker texture, and though she is blond, the shade is distinctive, darker, rather like honey or amber. A foreigner and yet she is acolyte to the First. It’s rare enouch for a foreigner to become one of the zelandonia, much less acolyte to the First. But perhaps understandable since she’s the one who can control horses and a wolf. And she’s the one who stopped the men who have been causing so much trouble for so many years.
“You are welcome to this Most Ancient Sacred Site, Ayla, acolyte to the First,” the Zelandoni said, grasping Ayla’s hands. “I suspect you have traveled farther to see this site than anyone ever has.”
“I came with the rest of …” Ayla started, then seeing the smile on the woman’s face, she understood. It was her accent. The Watcher was talking about how far she had traveled on her Journey with Jondalar, and before that, from her home with the Clan, and perhaps even before that. “You could be right,” she said, “but Jondalar may have traveled even farther. He Journeyed all the way from his home to the end of the Great Mother River far to the east, and beyond, where he found me, and then back again before we started on this Donier Tour.”
Jondalar