The shelters of stone - Jean M. Auel [34]
She looked at the tall, handsome man she had once loved, still loved in her own way, and the young woman sitting beside him who had managed to astonish her more than once in the short time since she arrived. “First, who is this ‘Grrrub’ you speak of, and why did you appeal to the spirit of a cave bear and not the Great Earth Mother?”
She could see where Zelandoni’s questions were leading, and because they were direct questions, she almost felt compelled to answer. She had learned what a lie was, and that some people could say a thing that wasn’t true, but she could not. The most she could do was refrain from mentioning, and that was particularly difficult when she was asked a direct question. Ayla looked down and stared at her hands. There were black smudges on them from making the fire.
She had been sure that eventually it would all come out, but she had hoped to spend some time with Jondalar’s people first, to get to know some of them. Perhaps it was just as well. If she was going to have to leave, it would be better to do it before she grew to like them.
But what about Jondalar? She loved him. What if she had to leave without him? His child was inside her. Not just the child of his hearth, or even the child of his spirit. His child. It didn’t matter what anyone else believed, she was convinced, she knew it was his child, as much as hers. He had started it growing inside her when they shared Pleasures—the Gift of Pleasure given to Her children by the Great Earth Mother.
She had been afraid to look at him, avoiding it for fear of what she might see. Suddenly she looked up, directly at him. She had to know.
4
Jondalar smiled and nodded his head imperceptibly. Then he reached for her hand, gave it a little squeeze, and held it. Ayla could hardly believe it. It was all right! He understood and he was telling her it was all right. She could say whatever she wanted about the Clan. He would stay with her. He loved her. She smiled back, her big wonderful smile, full of love.
Jondalar, too, had seen where Zelandoni’s questions were leading, and much to his own surprise, he didn’t care. At one time he had been so concerned about what his family and his people would think of this woman, and what they might think of him for bringing her home with him, he almost gave her up, almost lost her. Now, it didn’t matter. As much as he cared about them, as glad as he was to see them, if his own family wouldn’t accept her along with him, then he’d leave. It was Ayla he loved. Together, they had much to offer. Several Caves had already asked them to stay and live with them, including Dalanar’s Lanzadonii. He was sure they could find a home—somewhere.
The donier knew something had passed between Ayla and Jondalar, some kind of approval or affirmation. It made her curious, but she had learned that observation and patience often satisfied her curiosity better than questions.
Ayla turned to look at Zelandoni to answer. “Creb was mog-ur of Brun’s clan, the one who knew the spirit world, but he was more than just mog-ur. He was like you, Zelandoni, he was First, The Mog-ur of the whole Clan. But to me, Creb was … man of my hearth, though I wasn’t born there, and the woman he lived with, Iza, was his sibling, not his mate. Creb never had mate.”
“Who or what is the Clan?” Zelandoni asked. She noticed that Ayla’s accent got thicker when she spoke of them.
“The Clan is … I was … adopted by the Clan. They are the ones who took me in when I was … alone. Creb and Iza took care of me, raised me. Iza was mother, only mother I remember. And she was medicine woman, healer. Iza was First, too, in a way. She was most respected of all medicine women, as her mother and her grandmother had been, all the way back in unbroken line to beginning of Clan.”
“Is that where you learned your healing skills?” Zelandoni asked, leaning forward on