The shelters of stone - Jean M. Auel [152]
“Shevonar’s Ceremonial outfit is particularly nice,” Marthona said. “It was created by the old pattern-maker, who is gone now. He was very good.”
Ayla had thought the clothing of the Zelandonii was very interesting, some of it quite beautiful—particularly Marthona’s things—but she’d had no idea of the complexity of the meanings associated with it. Some things had seemed too ornate for her taste. She had learned to appreciate the pure form and usefulness of the things she made, just as her Clan mother did. Occasionally she varied the pattern in a basket she was weaving, or showed off the grain of the wood in a bowl or cup she carved and sanded smooth, but she had never added decorations.
Now she was beginning to understand how the clothes and jewelry that people wore, as well as their facial tattoos, characterized and identified them. Shevonar’s ensemble, for all that it was highly decorated, was one that she felt had a balanced and pleasing pattern. She was surprised, however, when Marthona said that it had been created by an old man.
“Shevonar’s clothes must have taken a lot of work. Why would an old man spend so much rime making clothes?” Ayla asked.
Jondalar smiled. “Because the old man’s craft was designing Ceremonial and burial clothing. That’s what a patternmaker does.”
“The old man didn’t make Shevonar’s Ceremonial clothes, he planned how they would go together,” Marthona said. “There are so many aspects to include, it takes a special skill and an artistic eye to put them together in a pleasing way. But he could arrange to have the clothes made. Several people had worked closely with him for many years, and the team was in great demand. Now, one of them plans the clothing, but she isn’t as good, not yet.”
“But why would the old man or anyone else do it for Shevonar?” Ayla asked.
“He traded for it,” Jondalar said.
Ayla frowned. It was obvious she still didn’t quite understand. “I thought people traded with other Camps or Caves. I didn’t know they traded with people in their own Cave.”
“But why not?” Willamar said. “Shevonar was a spear-maker. He was known for his well-made spears, but he couldn’t arrange all the elements and symbols he wanted to show on his Ceremonial outfit in a way that pleased him. So he traded twenty of his finest spears for that outfit, and he prized it greatly.”
“It was one of the last the old man made,” Marthona said. “After his eyes no longer allowed him to practice his craft, he traded Shevonar’s spears, one by one, for other things he wanted, but he saved the best one for himself. His bones are now buried in sacred ground, but he took that spear with him to the spirit world. It was one that had both his and Shevonar’s abelans on it.”
“If he is especially pleased with his handiwork,” Jondalar explained, “along with the abelan of the person it is being made for, a spear-maker sometimes incorporates his own symbol mark within the design carved or painted on it.”
Ayla learned during the hunt that certain marks on spears were very important. She knew that every spear carried a mark of its owner, so that there would be no doubt who had killed which animal. She didn’t know that it was called an abelan, or that it was so important to the Zelandonii. She had seen one dispute resolved because of the marks. Two spears had found the same animal, but only one was imbedded in a vital organ.
Though each spear bore the owner’s symbol mark, she had heard the hunters talking about the spear-makers. They always seemed to know who made which spear, whether or not it bore the mark of the one who made it. The style of the spear and the decorations on it declared the maker.
“What is your abelan, Jondalar?” she asked.
“It’s not anything specific, it’s just a mark. It looks like this,” he said. He smoothed out the dry dirt nearby, and with his finger drew a line, then a second line that started parallel with the first line, but converged to a point at the end. A small line joined the two