The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [339]
“I think it’s obvious that she miscarried. I believe the miscarriage brought her dangerously close to death while she was in the cave,” the First said. “That must have been why the Mother wanted her baby. The sacrifice was necessary. It brought her close enough to the next world for the Mother to speak to her, to give her the verse for the Gift of Knowledge.”
“I am sorry,” said the Zelandoni of the Second Cave. “Losing a child can be a terrible burden to bear.” He said it with such genuine feeling, it made Ayla wonder.
“If there are no objections, I think it is time for the ceremony,” the One Who Was First said. There were nods of agreement. “Are you ready, Ayla?”
The young woman frowned with consternation as she looked around. Ready for what? It all seemed so sudden. The Donier could see her distress.
“You said you wanted to have the full formal testing. The understanding is that if you satisfied the zelandonia, you would progress to the next level. You would no longer be an acolyte. You would leave here zelandoni,” the First explained.
“You mean, right now?” Ayla asked.
“The first mark of acceptance, yes,” the First said, as she picked up a sharp flint knife.
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“There will be a more public ceremony when you are presented to the people as a Zelandoni, but the marks are made with acceptance, in private with only the zelandonia. As you increase in rank, and marks are added, they are made in the presence of zelandonia and acolytes, but never in public,” the Zelandoni Who Was First said. The large woman, who carried herself with the dignity and power her position conferred, asked, “Are you ready?”
Ayla swallowed, and frowned. “Yes,” she said, and hoped she was.
The First looked around the gathering, making sure she had everyone’s attention. Then she began. “This woman is fully trained to fulfill all the duties of the zelandonia, and it is the First Among Those Who Serve The Mother who attests to her knowledge.”
There were nods and sounds of acknowledgment.
“She has been called and tested. Are there any among us who question her call?” Zelandoni asked.
There were no dissenters. There was never any doubt.
“Do all here agree to accept this woman as a Zelandoni into the ranks of the zelandonia?”
“We agree!” came the unanimous response.
Ayla watched as the man who was Zelandoni of the Second Cave came forward and held out a bowl of something dark. She knew what it was; a part of her mind was observing, not just participating. The bark of mountain ash, called a rowan tree, had been burned in a ceremonial fire and then sifted in the wind to a fine gray powder. The ashes of rowan bark were astringent, antiseptic. Then the woman who was the Zelandoni from a distant Cave, the one unknown to her, brought forth a steaming reddish liquid: last autumn’s dried rowanberries, boiled down to a concentrated liquid and strained. Ayla knew the juice from the rowanberries was acidic and healing.
Zelandoni Who Was First picked up a bowl of soft, white, partially congealed pure tallow that had been rendered with boiling water from aurochs fat, and added a little to the powdered ashes, then some of the steaming red rowanberry juice. She mixed it with a small carved wooden spatula, adding more fat and liquid until it satisfied her. Then she faced the young woman and picked up the sharp flint knife.
“The mark you will receive can never be removed. It will declare to all that you acknowledge and accept the role of Zelandoni. Are you ready to accept that responsibility?”
Ayla took a deep breath and watched the woman with the knife approach, knowing what was coming. She felt a twinge of fear, swallowed hard, and closed her eyes. She knew it would hurt, but that wasn’t what she was dreading. Once this was done, there was no going back. This was her last chance to change her mind.
Suddenly she recalled hiding in a shallow cave, trying to squeeze herself into the stone wall at her back. She saw the sharp, curved claws on the huge paw of a cave lion reaching in, and screamed with pain as four parallel gashes