The shelters of stone - Jean M. Auel [245]
“Shortly after we started out, when Thonolan and I got down off the other side of the glacier over the highland to the east, we met up with a band of flatheads—men of the Clan—probably a hunting party,” Jondalar said, “and had a small confrontation.”
“What kind of confrontation?” Joharran asked. Everyone else was paying close attention, too.
“A young one threw a stone at us, I think because we were on their side of the river, in their territory. Thonolan threw a spear back when he saw someone moving in the woods where they were hiding. Suddenly they all stepped forward and showed themselves. Two of us against several of them, the odds were not good. To tell you the truth, I don’t think the odds would be good one on one. They may be short, but they are powerful. I wasn’t at all sure how to get out of it, it was their leader who resolved it.”
“How could you tell they had a leader? And even if they did, how do you know they weren’t just a pack, like wolves?” another man asked. Jondalar thought he recognized him, but wasn’t sure. He had been gone five years, after all.
“Now I know for sure, I’ve met others since, but even then it was obvious. He told the youngster who had thrown the stone to return Thonolan’s spear and retrieve the stone, then they slipped back into the woods,” Jondalar said. “He put everything back the way it was, and thought that settled it. Since no one was hurt, I guess it did.”
“Told the youngster? Flatheads can’t talk!” the man said.
“In fact, they can,” Jondalar said. “They just don’t talk like we do. They use hand signs, mostly. I’ve learned some of them, and I’ve communicated with them, but Ayla is much better. She knows their language.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Zelandoni of the Fourteenth said.
Jondalar smiled. “I did at first, too,” he said. “I never saw one up close before that encounter. Have you?”
“No, I can’t say that I have, and I have no desire to,” the woman said. “I understand they rather resemble bears.”
“They don’t resemble bears, any more than we do. They look like people, a different kind of people, but there is no mistaking them. That hunting party was carrying spears and wearing clothes. Did you ever see bears do that?” Jondalar asked.
“So they are clever bears,” she said.
“Don’t underestimate them. They are not bears, or any other kind of animal. They are people, intelligent people,” Jondalar said.
“You said you communicated with them? When?” asked the man Jondalar couldn’t quite place.
“Once, when we were staying with the Sharamudoi, I got into trouble on the Great Mother River. The Sharamudoi live beside her, not too far from the end where she empties into Beran Sea. When you first get down off the glacier, the Mother is hardly a stream, but where they live she is huge, so wide in places, she almost looks like a lake. But though she can seem placid and smooth, she has a deceptively deep, swift, and strong current. By then so many other rivers, large and small, have flowed into her that when you see her from the home of the Sharamudoi, you know why she’s called the Great Mother River.” Jondalar was getting into Story-Telling mode, and people were listening with rapt attention.
“The Sharamudoi make excellent watercraft out of huge logs that are dug out and shaped to make a shell with pointed ends. I was practicing to control a small dugout boat using a paddle, when I lost control.” Jondalar made a deprecating smile that showed his chagrin. “To be honest, I was showing off a little. They usually keep a line—with one end attached to the boat—and a hook with bait ready all the rime in their boats, and I wanted to prove to them that I could catch a fish. The trouble is, fish in a river that big match its size, especially sturgeon. The River Men don’t call it fishing when they go after the big ones; they say they are hunting sturgeon.”
“I once saw a salmon nearly as big as a man,” someone called out.
“Some sturgeon near the end of the Great Mother River are bigger than the length of three tall men,” Jondalar said. “When I noticed the fishing gear, I threw out a line,