The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [269]
He watched them all as the long yellow stream slowly emptied his bladder, steaming as it hit the cold ground and raising up a strong smell. The woman in command seemed appalled, though she tried not to show it. A couple of the women turned their heads or averted their eyes; others stared in fascination, as if they’d never seen a man pass his water before. The older man was trying very hard not to smile, though he couldn’t hide his delight.
When Jondalar was through, he tucked himself back in and then faced his tormentors, determined not to let them tie his hands again. He addressed himself to the man. “I am Jondalar of the Zelandonii, and I am on a Journey.”
“You Journey far, Zelandonii. Maybe … too far.”
“I have traveled much farther. I wintered last year with the Mamutoi. I am returning home now.”
“That’s what I thought I heard you speaking before,” the old man said, shifting into the language in which he was much more fluent. “There are a few here who understand the language of the Mammoth Hunters, but the Mamutoi usually come from the north. You came from the south.”
“If you heard me speaking before, why didn’t you come? I’m sure there’s been some misunderstanding. Why was I tied up?”
The old man shook his head, Jondalar thought with sadness. “You will find out soon enough, Zelandonii.”
Suddenly the woman interrupted with a spate of angry words. The old man started to limp away, leaning on a staff.
“Wait! Don’t go! Who are you? Who are these people? And who is that woman who told them to take me here?” Jondalar asked.
The old man halted and looked back. “Here, I am called Ardemun. The people are the S’Armunai. And the woman is … Attaroa.”
Jondalar missed the emphasis that had been put on the name of the woman. “S’Armunai? Where have I heard that name before … wait … I remember. Laduni, the leader of the Losadunai…”
“Laduni is leader?” Ardemun said.
“Yes. He told me about the Sarmunai when we were traveling east, but my brother didn’t want to stop,” Jondalar said.
“It’s well you didn’t, and too bad you are here now.”
“Why?”
The woman in command of the spear holders interrupted again with a sharp order.
“Once I was a Losadunai. Unfortunately, I made a Journey,” Ardemun said as he limped out of the earthlodge.
After he left, the woman in command said some sharp words to Jondalar. He guessed that she wanted to lead him someplace, but he decided to feign complete ignorance.
“I don’t understand you,” Jondalar said. “You’ll have to call Ardemun back.”
She spoke to him again, more angrily, then poked her spear at him. It broke the skin, and a line of blood trickled down his arm. Anger flared in his eyes. He reached over and touched the cut, then looked at his bloody fingers.
“That wasn’t necess—” he started to say.
She interrupted with more angry words. The other women circled him with their weapons as the woman walked out of the earthlodge; then they prodded Jondalar to follow. Outside, the cold made him shiver. They went past the palisaded enclosure, and though he couldn’t see in, he sensed that he was being watched through the cracks by those inside. The whole idea puzzled him. Animals were sometimes driven into surrounds like that, so they couldn’t get away. It was a way of hunting them, but why were people kept there? And how many were in there?
It’s not all that large, he thought, there can’t be too many in there. He imagined how much work it must have taken to fence in even a small area with wooden stakes. Trees were scarce on the hillside. There was some woody vegetation in the form of brush, but the trees for the fence had to come from the valley below. They had to chop the trees down, trim them of branches, carry them up the hill, dig holes deep enough to hold them upright, make rope and cord, and then tie the trees together with it. Why had these people been willing to put forth so much