The shelters of stone - Jean M. Auel [397]
Jondalar’s face was split by a ridiculous grin. Or maybe the three of us,” he said, patting her belly. “This place is still sort of empty.”
“I love it. I just love it. It’s beautiful, Jondalar.”
He was so pleased by her delight, he felt tears welling up and had to do something to fend them off. He handed her the torch he still held. “Then you have to light the lamp, Ayla. It means you accept it. I have some rendered fat here. I carried it all the way from our last camp.”
He reached under his tunic and withdrew a small pouch, warmed by his body heat, made of the cured bladder of a deer, encased in a slightly larger pouch made of its hide, with the fur side in. The bladder was nearly waterproof, although it did seep slightly over time, especially when warm. The second pouch was to absorb the minimal seepage, the fur adding an extra layer to soak up any grease that might permeate. The top of the bladder had been tied with sinew from a leg tendon around a vertebra from the spine of the deer, shaved of extraneous bone to a circular shape. The natural hole, which had once held a spinal cord, served as a pouring hole. It was stoppered by a leather thong tied several times into a knot that fit the hole.
Jondalar pulled the end of the thong to release the knot and poured some of the liquefied fat into a new stone lamp. He dipped one end of an absorbent wick made of lichen taken from the branches of trees at the Summer Meeting camp and placed it into the oil, then held a torch to it. It flared up instandy. When the fat was fully melted and hot, he took out a leaf-wrapped package of wicks that came from a porous fungus that had been cut into strips and dried. He liked using fungus wicks, with their capacity to burn longer and warmer illumination. He laid the wick from the middle of the shallow bowl to the rim and extended it a bit farther over the edge. Then he added a second and a third wick to the same lamp, so that one lamp could give the light of three.
Then he filled a second lamp and gave the torch to Ayla. She held the fire to the wick. It caught, sputtered, then settled down into a glowing light. He carried the lamp to the niche that held the donii and placed it in front of the female figure. Ayla followed him. When he turned around, she looked up at the tall man.
“This dwelling is now yours, Ayla. If you allow me to light my hearth within it,” Jondalar said, “any children born here will be born to my hearth. Will you allow it?”
“Yes. Of course,” she said.
He took the torch from her and strode to the fireplace area, which was outlined with a circle of stones. Within it, wood had been set up, ready to light. He held the torch to the kindling and watched until the small wood set the larger pieces aflame. He did not want to take any chances that the fire would go out before it was well established. When he looked up, Ayla was looking at him with love in her eyes. He stood up and took her in his arms.
“Jondalar, I’m so happy,” she said, her voice cracking as tears filled her eyes.
“Then why are you crying?”
“Because I’m so happy,” she said, clinging to him. “I never dreamed I would ever be so happy. I am going to live in this beautiful home, and the Zelandonii are my people, and I’m going to have a baby, and I’m mated to you. Mostly because I’m mated to you. I love you, Jondalar. I love you so much.”
“I love you, too, Ayla. That’s why I built this dwelling for you,” he said, bending his head to reach her lips, which were straining to reach his. He tasted the salt from her tears.
“But, when did you do it?” she asked when they finally parted. “How? We were at the Meeting all summer.”
“Do you remember that hunting trip I went on with Joharran and the rest? It wasn’t only a hunting trip. We came back here and built this,” Jondalar said.
“You came all the way back here to build a dwelling? Why didn’t you tell me?” she said.
“I wanted to surprise you. You are