The Mammoth Hunters - Jean M. Auel [75]
They walked through the area of the Mammoth Hearth, which, except for the central passageway, was defined by mammoth bone partitions and leather drapes, as were all the hearths. Talut noticed Jondalar’s spear-thrower.
“That was quite a demonstration you both gave,” the headman said. “That bison was stopped in its tracks.”
“This will do much more than you saw,” Jondalar said, stopping to pick up the implement. “With it, you can throw a spear both harder and farther.”
“Is that true? Maybe you can give us another demonstration,” Talut said.
“I would like to, but we should go up on the steppes, to get a better feel for the range. I think you’ll be surprised,” Jondalar said, then turned to Ayla. “Why don’t you bring yours, too?”
Outside Talut saw his sister heading toward the river, and called out to the headwoman that they were going to look at Jondalar’s new way of throwing spears. They started up the slope, and by the time they reached the open plains, most of the Camp had joined them.
“How far can you throw a spear, Talut?” Jondalar asked when they reached a likely place for a demonstration. “Can you show me?”
“Of course, but why?”
“Because I want to show you that I can throw one farther,” Jondalar said.
Ceneral laughter followed his statement. “You’d better pick someone else to pit yourself against. I know you’re a big man, and probably strong, but no one can throw a spear farther than Talut,” Barzec advised. “Why don’t you just show him, Talut? Give him a fair chance to see what he’s up against. Then he can compete in his own range. I could give him a good contest, maybe even Danug could.”
“No,” Jondalar said, with a gleam in his eye. This was shaping up into a competition. If Talut is your best, then only Talut will do. And I would wager that I can throw a spear farther … except I have nothing to wager. In fact. with this,” Jondalar said, holding up the narrow, flat implement shaped out of wood, “I would wager that Ayla can throw a spear farther, faster, and with better accuracy than Talut.”
There was a buzzing of amazement among the assembled Camp in response to Jondalar’s claim. Tulie eyed Ayla and Jondalar. They were too relaxed, too confident. It should have been obvious to them that they were no match for her brother. She doubted that they’d even be a match for her. She was nearly as tall as the fair-haired man and possibly stronger, though his long reach might give him an edge. What did they know that she didn’t? She stepped forward.
“I’ll give you something to wager,” she said. “If you win, I will give you the right to make a reasonable claim of me, and if it’s within my power, I will grant it.”
“And if I lose?”
“You will grant me the same.”
“Tulie, are you sure you want to wager a future claim?” Barzec asked his mate, with a worried frown. Such undefined terms were high stakes, invariably requiring more than usual payment. Not so much because the winner made unusually high demands, although that happened, but because the loser needed to be certain the wager was satisfied and no further claim could be made. Who knew what this stranger might ask?
“Against a future claim? Yes,” she replied. But she did not say that she believed she could not lose either way, because if he won, if it really did what he said, they would have access to a valuable new weapon. If he lost, she’d have a claim on him. “What do you say, Jondalar?”
Tulie was shrewd, but Jondalar was smiling. He’d wagered for future claims before; they always added flavor to the game, and interest for the spectators. He wanted to share the secret of his discovery. He wanted to see how it would be accepted, and how it would work in a communal hunt. That was the next logical step in testing his new hunting weapon. With a little experimentation and practice, anyone could do it. That was the beauty of it. But it took time to practice and learn the new technique, which would require eager enthusiasm. The wager would help to create that … and he’d have a future claim on Tulie. He had no doubt of