The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [195]
“I want to say something, Dolando, while we’re all gathered together here,” Tholie said.
The man nodded, although it wouldn’t have mattered. Tholie continued without waiting for his acknowledgment.
“I think I can speak for everyone when I say how glad we are to have Jondalar and Ayla here,” she said. Several people spoke out in agreement. “We were all worried about Roshario, not only because of the pain she was suffering, but because we feared she would lose the use of her arm. Ayla changed that. Roshario says she feels no more pain and, with luck, there is a good chance that she will have full use of her arm again.”
There was a chorus of positive comments expressing gratitude and invocations for good luck.
“We owe our kinsman, Jondalar, thanks too,” Tholie went on. “When he was here before, his ideas for changes in the tools we use were a big help, and now he has shown us his thrower, and the result is this feast.” Again the group made vocal expressions of affirmation. “In the time he has lived with us, he has hunted both sturgeon and chamois, but he has never said whether he prefers the water or the land. I think he would make a good River man…”
“You’re right, Tholie. Jondalar’s a Ramudoi!” one man shouted out. “Or at least half of one!” Barono added, to an uproar of laughter. “No, no, he’s been learning about the water, but he knows the land,” a woman said. “That’s right! Ask him! He threw a spear before he cast his first harpoon, he’s a Shamudoi!” an older man added. “He even likes women who hunt!”
Ayla glanced up to see who had made the last comment. It was a young woman, a little older than Darvalo, named Rakario. She liked to be around Jondalar all the time, which annoyed the young man. He had complained that she was always in the way.
Jondalar was smiling broadly at the good-humored argument. The commotion was a demonstration of the friendly competition between the moieties; a rivalry within the family that added a little excitement but was never allowed to go beyond well-understood limits. Jokes, bragging, and a certain level of insults were permissible, but anything that might unduly offend or cause real anger was quickly squelched, with both sides joining forces to calm tempers and alleviate hurt feelings.
“As I said, I think Jondalar would make a good River man,” Tholie continued when everyone had settled down, “but Ayla is most familiar with the land, and I’d like to encourage Jondalar to stay with the land hunters, if he is willing and they will accept him. If Jondalar and Ayla would stay and become Sharamudoi, we would make an offer to cross-mate with them, but since Markeno and I are Ramudoi, they would have to be Shamudoi.”
There was a great outburst of excitement among the people, with encouraging remarks and even congratulations directed at the two couples.
“That’s a wonderful plan, Tholie,” Carolio said.
“It was Roshario who gave me the idea,” Tholie said.
“But what does Dolando think about accepting Jondalar, and Ayla, a woman who was raised by the ones who live on the peninsula?” Carolio asked, looking directly at the Shamudoi leader.
There was a sudden silence. Everyone knew the implications of her question. After his violent reaction to Ayla, would Dolando be willing to accept her? Ayla had hoped his angry raving would be forgotten and wondered why Carolio had brought it up, but she had to do it. It was her responsibility.
Carlono and his mate had originally been cross-coupled with Dolando and Roshario, and together they had founded this particular group of Sharamudoi when they and a few others moved away from their rather crowded birthplace. Positions of leadership were usually conferred by informal consensus, and they were the natural choice. In practice, a leader’s mate usually took on the responsibilities of a coleader, but Carlono’s woman had died when Markeno was quite young. The Ramudoi leader never formally mated again and his twin sister, Carolio,