The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [264]
“Greetings, respected Watcher of the Most Ancient Sacred Site,” he said, holding out his hands. “I am Jondalar of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, Flint-Knapper of the Ninth Cave. Mated to Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, who is acolyte of the First. Son of Marthona, former leader of the Ninth Cave; brother of Joharran, leader of the Ninth Cave. Born to the Hearth of Dalanar, leader and founder of the Lanzadonii.”
He recounted his important names and ties. It was one thing for members of the zelandonia to simply state their primary affiliations, but it would seem too casual and not very courteous for him to be so brief in a formal introduction, especially to a Zelandoni.
“You are welcome here, Jondalar of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii,” she said, taking his hands and looking into eyes of an incredibly vivid shade of blue, eyes that seemed to see inside her very spirit, and cause her womanhood to quiver. She closed her eyes for a moment to regain her internal balance. No wonder she’s not ready to give up her name yet, the Watcher thought. She’s mated, and to one of the most fascinating men I have ever met. I wonder if anyone is planning a Mother Festival for these visitors from the north … too bad my time for serving as Watcher is not up yet. If someone needs me here, I can’t go to Mother Festivals.
Willamar, who was waiting to introduce himself to the Watcher, ducked his head to smile to himself. It was a good thing that Jondalar hardly seemed to notice the impact he still had on women, he thought, and as perceptive as she was, Ayla seemed oblivious to it. Even though it was discouraged, he knew that jealousy still lived in the hearts of many.
“I am called Willamar, Master Trader of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii,” he said, when his turn came, “mated to Marthona, the former leader of the Ninth Cave, who is the mother of this young man. Though he was not born to my hearth, he was raised there so I think of him as the son of my heart. I feel the same about Ayla and her little one, Jonayla.”
She’s not only mated, she has a child, a young child, the Watcher thought. How can she even think of becoming a Zelandoni? Much less as an acolyte to the the most powerful Zelandoni on earth? The First must see a lot of potential in her, but inside she must be pulled so many ways.
Only these five visitors would be going into the cave at this time. The rest of the visitors would go another time and might not see as much. The Caves that watched over the Sacred Site didn’t like too many to go in at one time. There were torches and lamps near the fireplace. That was part of the Watcher’s job, to gather and prepare them so they would be on hand when needed. Everyone took a torch. The Watcher handed out extras, put more of them in a pack, and added some stone lamps and small bladders of oil. When everyone had a fire holder to light the way, the Watcher started in.
There was enough daylight coming into the entrance chamber to get a sense of the huge size of the cave, and a first impression of its disorganized character. A chaotic landscape of stone formations filled the space. Columns of stalactites once attached to the ceiling and their stalagmitic mates had dropped down as though the floor had fallen out from under them, some tipped over, some collapsed, some shattered. There was a sense of immediacy in the way they were strewn about, yet everything was so frozen in time they were iced with a thick caramel layer of glistening stalagmitic frosting.
The Watcher started humming as she led them toward the left, staying close to the wall. The rest followed in single file, with the First next in line, then Ayla, followed by Jonokol and Willamar, with Jondalar at the end. He was tall enough to see over the heads of the rest and thought of himself as