The shelters of stone - Jean M. Auel [216]
Willamar and Marthona were more accustomed to waiting until the time was right; it was a tactic often used in trade negotiations and dealings with other Caves. Ayla also seemed content to wait, but it was hard for the One Who Was First to fathom her real feelings. She didn’t know the foreign woman well enough yet, she was an enigma, but that made her intriguing.
“If you are finished, we’d like you to move closer to the hearth,” Jondalar said with an eager smile.
The large woman hoisted herself up from the stack of pads upon which she was sitting and walked toward the cooking hearth. Jondalar rushed to pick up the pads and put them down near the fireplace, but Zelandoni remained standing.
“You might want to sit, Zelandoni,” Jondalar said. “We’re going to be putting all the fires out, and it will be as dark as a cave in here.”
“If you prefer,” she said, seating herself on the stack of pads.
Marthona and Willamar took their cushions with them and also sat while the younger people collected all the oil lamps and placed them around the hearth, including, Zelandoni was a little surprised to notice, the one from in front of the donii in the niche. Just bringing them all together made the rest of the dwelling much darker.
“Is everyone ready?” Jondalar said, and when the three who were waiting nodded, the others began to snuff out the small flames. No one spoke as each one went out. The shadows deepened until the encroaching darkness overtook every glimmer of light and permeated the entire space, creating an eerie sense of close, impenetrable thickness in the intangible air. It was as dark as a cave, but in the dwelling, which moments before had been filled with a warm golden glow, the effect was eerie, unnerving, and, curiously, more frightening than in the cold deeps. Darkness was expected there. It wasn’t that fires did not go out inside a dwelling, but that all the illumination was not purposely put out. It felt as if they were tempting chance. The mystic impact was not lost on the First.
But as time passed and eyes adjusted to the darkness, Zelandoni noticed that the deep black was slightly less. She still could not see the shape of her own hand in front of her eyes, but above the roofless dwelling, on the underside of the overhanging shelf, the light from other fires was faintly reflected into neighboring spaces. It wasn’t much, but it was not quite as dark as a cave. She would have to remember that, she thought.
Her thoughts were distracted by a light nearby that was startling to eyes grown accustomed to the profound dark. It held for a long moment, highlighting Ayla’s face, then went out, but a moment later a small flame had started and was soon blazing.
“How did you do that?” she said.
“Do what?” Jondalar said, grinning widely.
“Start that fire so fast.” Zelandoni could see that everyone was smiling now.
“It’s the firestone!” Jondalar said, and held one out to show her. “When you strike it with flint, it makes a long-lasting, very hot spark, and with good dry tinder, if you aim it just right, it will catch and make a flame. Here, let me show you how it works.”
He made up a tinder bundle with fireweed fuzz and some shaved pieces of wood held in dried grass. The First got up from her padded seat and sat down on the floor near the fireplace. She preferred to sit on raised seats or chairs because it was easier to get up, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t get down if she wanted to or felt it was important enough. And this fire-making trick was. Jondalar demonstrated, then gave the stones to her. She tried it a few times with no success, frowning deeper with each attempt.
“You’ll get the technique,” Marthona encouraged. “Ayla, why don’t you show her.”
Ayla took the flint and iron pyrite, set the fire bundle just so, and carefully showed the woman the position of her hands. Then she struck off a spark that landed on the tinder. It sent up a thin wisp of smoke, which she crushed out; then she gave the stones back to Zelandoni.
The woman held them in front of her and started