The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [353]
“He can’t tell us where to go,” a slurred voice called out.
“That’s right, he can’t tell us where to go,” said the first man who had seen Ayla.
“It’s all right,” Laramar said, picking up several of the small drinking bags that had not been unstoppered, and putting them in a backframe. “I’d rather find a place where we won’t be bothered.”
Brukeval began to help him. He glanced up at Ayla and caught her eye. She smiled at him with gratitude for taking her part and suggesting they move. He smiled back with a lingering expression that puzzled her, then frowned and looked away. She put Jonayla down and knelt to restrain Wolf while the men moved off.
“I was going to walk over to the Lanzadonii camp to talk to Dalanar, anyway, Echozar,” Joharran said. “Why don’t you walk back with me? Ayla can go on with Solaban and the others.”
Ayla wondered what was so important that Joharran had to talk to Dalanar about that it couldn’t wait until morning. Neither one was going anywhere in the dark. Then she noticed a few of the men who had been sitting around the fireplace move out from behind a bush and head in the direction the others had taken, their heads turning to watch Echozar, Joharran, and a couple of others go. She frowned with concern. Something did not feel right.
“I’ve never seen such goings-on with the zelandonia,” Joharran commented. “Have you heard anything about the special ceremony everyone says they are planning? Ayla has her mark, but they haven’t announced her yet. They usually do it right away. Has she said anything to you?”
“She’s been so busy with the zelandonia, I haven’t seen much of her,” Jondalar said, which was not entirely true. He had not seen much of her, but not because she was so busy. He was the one who had been staying away and his brother knew it.
“Well, it looks like they must be planning something very big. Zelandoni spent a long time talking with Proleva, and she told me the zelandonia want a huge, elaborate feast. They are even talking to Laramar about supplying his brew for the festival. We’re getting together a hunting party, probably be gone a day or two. Do you want to join us?” Joharran asked.
“Yes,” Jondalar answered, almost too quickly, causing his brother to give him a questioning look. “I’d be glad to.”
If he’d been thinking straight, Jondalar might have recalled that Ayla had said something to him when he first saw her, but he hadn’t been able to think of anything but Ayla finding him with Marona since the incident. He just couldn’t bring himself to simply crawl into the sleeping furs beside her under the circumstances. He didn’t even know if she would let him. He was certain he had lost her, but was afraid to find out for sure.
He thought he had managed to find a plausible excuse for not returning to their camp another night, when Proleva asked him about it. He had actually slept near the horse enclosure, using horse blankets, and the ground covering he and Marona had used at the swimming place for bedding, to keep warm, but he didn’t think he could continue staying away without arousing curiosity from the whole Camp. Being away on a hunting trip would solve the problem for the next day or two. He didn’t even want to think beyond that.
Though Ayla was trying to behave as if nothing were wrong, and Jondalar thought his avoidance of her went unnoticed, in fact the whole camp was aware by now that something was wrong between the couple, and many guessed what it was. His clandestine trysts with Marona were not nearly so secret as he had thought. To most people, he was just being appropriately discreet and they ignored the affair. But the news that the formerly doting couple had not even shared the same bed since Ayla arrived, even though Marona had moved to a different camp, had spread quickly.
It was the kind of gossip people loved to speculate about. The fact that Ayla had been marked as a Zelandoni without being