The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [283]
When they got back, Ardemun and Jondalar went to the end of the Holding, where the stones were, to pass their water. When they returned to the lean-to, Ardemun told the men that the hunters had returned with more meat from the horse kill, but something had happened while the second group was returning. He didn’t know what it was, but it was causing some commotion among the women. They were all talking, but he hadn’t been able to overhear anything specific.
That evening, food and water were brought to the men again, but not even the servers were allowed to stay and slice the meat. It had been precut into chunks and left for the men on a few logs, with no conversation. The men talked about it while they were eating.
“Something strange is going on,” Ebulan said, switching to Mamutoi so Jondalar could understand. “I think the women were ordered not to speak to us.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Olamun said. “If we did know something, what could we do about it?”
“You’re right, Olamun. It doesn’t make sense, but I agree with Ebulan. I think the women were told not to speak,” S’Amodun said.
“Maybe this is the time, then,” Jondalar said. “If Epadoa’s women are busy talking, maybe they won’t notice.”
“Notice what?” Olamun said.
“Ardemun managed to pick up a piece of flint…”
“So that’s what it was all about,” Ebulan said. “I couldn’t see anything that would make him trip and fall.”
“But what good is a piece of flint?” Olamun said. “You have to have tools to make it into anything. I used to watch the flint knapper, before he died.”
“Yes, but he also picked up a hammerstone, and there is some bone around here. It’s enough to make a few blades and shape them into knives and points, and a few other tools—if it’s a good piece of flint.”
“You’re a flint knapper?” Olamun said.
“Yes, but I’m going to need some help. Some noise to cover up the sound of stones hitting stones,” Jondalar said.
“But even if he can make some knives, what good will they be? The women have spears,” Olamun said.
“For one thing, they’re good for cutting the rope off someone whose hands are tied,” Ebulan said. “I’m sure we can think of a competition or game that will cover up the noise. The light is almost gone, though.”
“There should be enough. It won’t take me long to make the tools and the points. Then tomorrow I can work inside the lean-to, where they can’t see. I’ll need that legbone and those logs, and maybe a piece of a plank from the lean-to. It would help if I had some sinew, but thin strips of leather should work. And, Ardemun, if you find any feathers while you are out of the Holding, I could use them.”
Ardemun nodded, then said, “You’re going to make something that will fly? Like a throwing spear?”
“Yes, something that will fly. It will take careful whittling and shaping, and that will take some time. But I think I can make a weapon that might surprise you,” Jondalar said.
28
The next morning, before Jondalar began further work on the flint tools, he talked to S’Amodun about the two injured youngsters. He had thought about it the night before, and, recalling how Darvo had taken to flint knapping even as a young boy, he felt that if they could be taught a craft, like flint knapping, they could lead independent and useful lives even though they were crippled.
“With Attaroa as headwoman, do you really think they will ever have the opportunity?” S’Amodun asked.
“She allows Ardemun more freedom; she might feel that the two boys will not be a threat, either, and let them out of the Holding more often. Even Attaroa might be persuaded to see the logic of having a couple of toolmakers around. Her hunters’ weapons are poorly made,” Jondalar said. “And who knows? She may not be a leader much longer.”
S’Amodun eyed