The Mammoth Hunters - Jean M. Auel [91]
“I’ve got to show this to Dalanar! This is unbelievable! He’s improved on some of the processes—he has a natural feel for working with the stone, like you, Wymez. But you can almost shave this stone. This is caused by heating?”
Wymez nodded. “I wouldn’t say you can shave it. It’s still stone, not quite as easy to shape as bone, but if you know how to work stone, heating makes it easier.”
“I wonder what would happen with indirect percussion … have you tried using a piece of bone or antler with a point to direct the force of a blow from a hammerstone? You can get blades that are much longer and thinner that way.”
Ayla thought that Jondalar had a natural feel for working with the stone, too. But more than that, she sensed in his enthusiasm and spontaneous desire to share this marvelous discovery with Dalanar, an aching desire to go home.
In her valley, when she had been hesitant about facing the unknown Others, she had thought Jondalar only wished to leave so he could be with other people. She had never quite understood before just how powerful was his desire to return to his home. It came as a revelation, an insight; she knew that he could never be truly happy any other place.
Though she desperately missed her son and the people she loved, Ayla hadn’t felt homesickness in Jondalar’s sense, as a yearning to go back to a familiar place, where people were known, and customs were comfortable. She had known when she left the Clan she could never return. To them, she was dead. If they saw her, they would think she was a malicious spirit. And now, she knew she would not go back to live with them even if she could. Though she had been with the Lion Camp only a short time, she already felt more comfortable and at home than she had in all the years she lived with the Clan. Iza had been right. She was not Clan. She was born to the Others.
Lost in thought, Ayla had missed some further discussion. Hearing Jondalar mention her name brought her back.
… I think Ayla’s technique must be close to theirs. That’s where she learned. I have seen some of their tools, but I had never seen them made before she showed me. They are not without skill, but it’s a long step from preshaping a core to an intermediary punch, and that makes the difference between a heavy flake tool and a fine, light blade tool.”
Wymez smiled and nodded. “Now, if we could only find a way to make a blade straight. No matter how you do it, the edge of a knife is never quite as sharp after it’s been retouched.”
“I’ve thought about that problem,” Danug said, making a contribution to the discussion. “How about cutting a groove in bone or antler, and gluing in bladelets? Small enough to be almost straight?”
Jondalar thought about it for a moment. “How would you make them?”
“Couldn’t you start with a small core?” Danug suggested, a little tentatively.
“That might work, Danug, but a small core could be hard to work with,” Wymez said. “I’ve thought about starting with a bigger blade and breaking it into smaller ones …”
They were still talking about flint, Ayla realized. They never seemed to tire of it. The material and its potential never ceased to fascinate them. The more they learned, the more it stimulated their interest. She could appreciate flint and toolmaking, and she thought the points Wymez had shown them were finer than any she had ever seen, as much for their beauty as for their use. But she had never heard the subject discussed in such exhaustive detail. Then, she remembered her fascination with medical lore and healing magic. The times she had spent with Iza, and Uba, when the medicine woman was teaching them, were among her happiest memories.
Ayla noticed Nezzie coming out of the lodge, and got up to see if she could help. Though the three men smiled and made comments as she left, she didn’t think they would even notice that she had