The Mammoth Hunters - Jean M. Auel [113]
“It’s not just Rydag. She is a Healer. A good Healer. Do the Mamutoi have so many Healers that we can afford to let such a good one go? Look what has happened in just a few days. She saved Nuvie from choking to death … I know Tulie said that could just have been a technique she learned, but your sister can’t say that about Rydag. Ayla knew what she was doing. That was Healing medicine. She’s right about Fralie, too. Even I can see this pregnancy is hard on her, and all that fighting and arguing isn’t helping. And what about your headache?”
Talut grinned. “That was more than Healing magic; that was amazing!”
“Shhhh! You’ll wake the whole lodge up. Ayla is more than a Healer. Mamut says she’s an untrained Searcher, too. And look at her way with animals, I wouldn’t doubt if she isn’t a Caller besides. Think what a benefit that would be to a Camp if it turns out that she can not only Search out animals to hunt, but Call them to her?”
“You don’t know that, Nezzie. You’re just guessing.”
“Well, I don’t have to guess about her skill with those weapons. You know she’d bring a good Bride Price if she were Mamutoi, Talut. With everything she has to offer, tell me what you think she’d be worth as the daughter of your hearth?”
“Hmmm. If she were Mamutoi, and the daughter of the Lion Hearth … But she may not want to become Mamutoi, Nezzie. What about the young man, Jondalar? It’s obvious that there is strong feeling between them.”
Nezzie had been thinking about it for some time and she was ready. “Ask him too.”
“Both of them!” Talut exploded, sitting up.
“Hush! Keep your voice down!”
“But he has people. He says he’s Zel … Zel … whatever it is.”
“Zelandonii,” Nezzie whispered. “But his people live a long way from here. Why should he want to make such a long trip back if he can find a home with us? You could ask him, anyway, Talut. That weapon he invented ought to be reason enough to satisfy-the Councils. And Wymez says he is an expert toolmaker. If my brother gives him a recommendation, you know the Councils won’t refuse.”
“That’s true … but, Nezzie,” Talut said, lying down again, “how do you know they will want to stay?”
“I don’t know, but you can ask, can’t you?”
It was midmorning when Talut stepped out of the longhouse, and noticed Ayla and Jondalar leading the horses away from the Camp. There was no snow, but early morning hoarfrost still lingered in patches of crystal white, and their heads were wreathed in steam with each breath. Static crinkled in the dry freezing air. The woman and man were dressed for the cold in fur parkas with hoods pulled tight around their faces, and fur leggings which were tucked into footwear that was wrapped around the lower edge of the trousers and tied.
“Jondalar! Ayla! Are you leaving?” he called, hurrying to catch up with them.
Ayla nodded an affirmative reply, which made Talut lose his smile, but Jondalar explained, “We’re just going to give the horses some exercise. We’ll be back after noon.”
He neglected to mention that they were also looking for some privacy, a place to be alone for a while to discuss, without interruption, whether to go back to Ayla’s valley. Or rather, in Jondalar’s mind, to talk Ayla out of wanting to go.
“Good. I’d like to arrange for some practice sessions with those spear-throwers, when the weather clears. I’d like to see how they work and what I could do with one,” Talut said.
“I think you might be surprised,” Jondalar replied, smiling, “at how well they work.”
“Not by themselves. I’m sure they work well for either of you, but it takes some skill, and there may not be much time for practice before spring.” Talut paused, considering.
Ayla waited, her hand on the mare’s withers, just below her short, stiff mane. A heavy fur mitten dangled by a cord out of the sleeve of her parka. The cord was drawn up through the sleeve, through a loop at the back of the neck, down the other sleeve, and attached to the other mitten. With the cord attached to them,