The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [407]
40
Ayla thought about how to make herself understood to the man of the Clan, glancing at the young woman sitting nearby, who looked nervous and upset. Then, remembering the Clan Gathering, she tried the ancient, formal, and primarily silent language that was used to address the world of the spirits, and to communicate with other clans that had a different common language.
The man nodded and made a gesture. Ayla felt a great wash of relief when she found that she understood him, and a rush of excitement. These people did come from the same beginnings as her Clan! Sometime, in some far distant past, this man had the same ancestors as Creb and Iza. With a sudden insight, she recalled a strange vision, and knew that she, too, shared roots, even more ancient, with him, but her line had diverged, taken a different path.
Jondalar watched, fascinated, as they began to talk with signs. It was hard to follow the quick flowing movements they made, which gave him a sense of much greater complexity and subtlety to the language than he had supposed. When Ayla had taught people of the Lion Camp some of the Clan sign language so that Rydag could communicate with them for the first time in his life—the formal language because it was easier for the youngster to learn—she had taught them only the basic rudiments. The boy had always enjoyed talking with her more than anyone. Jondalar had guessed that Rydag could communicate with her more fully, but he was beginning to understand the range and depth of the language.
Ayla was surprised when the man skipped over some of the formalities of introduction. He didn’t establish names, places, or kinship lines. “Woman of the Others, this man would know where you learned to speak.”
“When this woman was a young child, family and people were lost to an earthquake. This woman was raised by a clan,” she explained.
“This man knows of no clan that took in a child of the Others,” the man signed.
“The clan of this woman lives far away. Does the man know of the river known to the Others as Great Mother?”
“It is the boundary,” he motioned impatiently.
“The river goes on for a greater distance than many know, to a great sea, far to the east. The clan of this woman lives beyond the end of Great Mother,” Ayla signed.
He looked incredulous, then studied her. He knew that, unlike the people of the Clan whose language included the understanding of unconscious body movements and gestures, which made it almost impossible to say one thing and mean something else, the people of the Others, who spoke with sounds, were different. He couldn’t be sure about her. He could see no signs of dissimulation, but her story seemed so far-fetched.
“This woman has been traveling since the beginning of last warm season,” she added.
He became impatient again, and Ayla realized he was in great pain. “What does the woman want? Others are gone, why does the woman not go?” He knew that she had probably saved his life and had helped his mate, which meant he owed her an obligation; that would make them the next thing to kin. The thought was unsettling.
“This woman is a medicine woman. This woman would look at the man’s leg,” Ayla explained.
He snorted with disdain. “The woman cannot be a medicine woman. The woman is not Clan.”
Ayla did not argue. She thought a moment, then decided to try another approach. “This woman would speak to the man of the Others,” she requested. He nodded approval. She stood up, then backed away before she turned around and went to talk to Jondalar.
“Are you able to communicate with him very well?” he asked her. “I know you are making a good attempt, but the Clan you lived with is so far away, I can’t help but wonder how successful you are.”
“I started out using the everyday language of my clan, and we couldn’t understand each other. I should