The shelters of stone - Jean M. Auel [218]
“I think it has to do with their mating,” Ramara said.
She thought about her own Matrimonial and glanced at her dark-haired mate. His hair was probably the darkest of anyone of the Ninth Cave, and when she met him, she liked the contrast he made with her own pale blond coloring. Solaban’s hair was almost black, though his eyes were blue, and his skin was so pale that he often sunburned, especially early in the summer season. She also thought he was the most handsome of all the men of the Cave, even compared to Jondalar. She understood the appeal of the tall blond man with the extraordinary blue eyes, and when she was younger, like most women, she had been infatuated with him. But she learned what love was when she met Solaban. Jondalar didn’t seem quite so attractive since his return, perhaps because he gave all his attention to Ayla. Besides, she rather liked the woman.
“Why can’t they get mated just like everyone else?” Solaban said, obviously feeling grouchy.
“Well, they aren’t just like everyone else. Jondalar just returned from a Journey that was so long, no one expected him to come back, and Ayla isn’t even Zelandonii. But she really wants to be. At least that’s what I heard,” Ramara said.
“When she mates him, she’ll be the same as Zelandonii anyway,” Solaban said. “Why do they need to bother with an acceptance ceremony for her?”
“It’s not the same. She wouldn’t be Zelandonii. She’d be ‘Ayla of the Mamutoi, mated to Jondalar of the Zelandonii.’ Whenever she was introduced, everyone would know she was a foreigner,” she said.
“She just has to open her mouth and everyone knows it anyway,” he said. “Making her Zelandonii isn’t going to change that.”
“Yes, it will. She might talk like a stranger, but when people meet her, they would know that she isn’t a foreigner anymore,” Ramara said.
Ramara looked at the tools, weapons, and clothing covering every flat surface. She knew her mate and understood the real reason for his irritability, and it had nothing to do with Ayla or Jondalar. She smiled to herself and said, “If it wasn’t raining out, I’d take the boys to Wood River Valley to watch the horses. All the children like to do that. They don’t usually get a chance to see animals up close.”
Solaban’s frown deepened. “That means they’ll have to stay here, I suppose.”
Ramara flashed a teasing grin. “No, I don’t think so. I thought I’d go to the other end of the shelter where everyone is cooking and getting things prepared, and help the women who are watching the children so their mothers can work. The boys can play with the others who are their age. When Proleva asked me to watch Jaradal, she meant she wanted me to be particularly aware of him. All the mothers do that. The watchers have to know who they are responsible for, especially when children get to be about Robenan’s age. They get more independent and sometimes try to go off on their own,” Ramara said, watching her mate’s frown ease. “But you should get done before the ceremony. I may have to bring the boys here afterward.”
Solaban looked around at the neatly organized assortment of his personal things, and the rows of ander, bone, and ivory trimmed to about the same size, then shook his head. He still didn’t know precisely what to take with him, but it was this way every year. “I will,” he said, “as soon as I get everything set out so I can see what I want to take to the Summer Meeting for myself, and what I want to take to trade.” Besides being one of Joharran’s close aides, Solaban was a maker of handles, especially knife handles.
“I think most everyone is here,” Proleva said, “and it’s stopped raining.”
Joharran nodded, went out from under the overhang that had protected them from