The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [242]
She shivered with a chill of fear as she remembered the time that Creb, to save her life, had taken her back with them, against all tradition. By the unwritten law of the Clan, he should have let her die. But to the Clan, she was dead, now. It occurred to her how ironic that was. When Broud had cursed her with death, he shouldn’t have. He didn’t have a good reason. Creb did have a reason; she had broken the most powerful taboo of the Clan. Perhaps he should have made sure that she died, but he didn’t.
They began striking camp and stowing their tent, sleeping rolls, cooking utensils, ropes, and other equipment in the pack-saddle baskets, with the efficiency of unspoken routine. Ayla was filling waterbags at the river when Jeren and his hunters returned. With smiles and many words of what were obviously profuse thanks, the men presented Ayla with a package wrapped in a piece of fresh aurochs hide. She opened it to find the tender rump, butchered from a recent kill.
“I am grateful, Jeren,” Ayla said, and she gave him the beautiful smile that always made Jondalar melt with love. It seemed to have a similar affect on Jeren, and Jondalar smiled inwardly when he saw the dazed expression on the man’s face. It took Jeren a moment to collect himself; then he turned to Jondalar and began talking, trying very hard to communicate something. He stopped when he saw he was not being understood, and he talked to the other men. Then he turned back to Jondalar.
“Tamen,” he said, and began walking toward the south and motioning for them to follow. “Tamen,” he repeated, beckoning and adding some other words.
“I think he wants you to go with him,” Ayla said, “to see that man you know. The one who speaks Zelandonii.”
“Tamen, Zel-an-don-yee. Hadumai,” Jeren said, beckoning both of them.
“He must want us to visit. What do you think?” Jondalar said.
“Yes, I think you’re right,” Ayla said. “Do you want to stop and visit?”
“It would mean going back,” Jondalar said, “and I don’t know how far. If we had met them farther south, I wouldn’t have minded stopping for a little while on the way, but I hate to go back now that we’ve come this far.”
Ayla nodded. “You’ll have to tell him, somehow.”
Jondalar smiled at Jeren, then shook his head. “I’m sorry” he said, “but we need to go north. North,” he repeated, pointing in that direction.
Jeren looked distressed, shook his head, then closed his eyes as if trying to think. He walked toward them and took a short staff out of his belt. Jondalar noticed the top of it was carved. He knew he had seen one like it before, and he tried to remember where. Jeren cleared a space on the ground, then drew a line with the staff, and another crossing it. Below the first line, he drew a figure that vaguely resembled a horse. At the end of the second line pointing toward the channel of the Great Mother River, he drew a circle with a few lines radiating from it. Ayla looked more closely.
“Jondalar,” she said, with excitement in her voice, “when Mamut was showing me symbols and teaching me what they meant, that was a sign for ‘sun.’ ”
“And that line points in the direction of the setting sun,” Jondalar said, pointing west. “Where he drew the horse, that must be south.” He indicated the direction when he said it.
Jeren was nodding vigorously. Then he pointed north and frowned. He walked to the north end of the line he had drawn and stood facing them. He lifted his arms and crossed them in front of him, in the same way that Ayla had done when she was trying to tell Jeren not to hunt Whinney and Racer. Then he shook his head no. Ayla and Jondalar looked at each other and back at Jeren.
“Do you think he’s trying to tell us not to go north?” Ayla asked.
Jondalar felt a dawning recognition of what Jeren was trying to communicate. “Ayla, I don’t think he just wants us to go south with him and visit. I think he’s trying to tell us something more. I think he’s trying to warn us not to