The shelters of stone - Jean M. Auel [424]
“Look at this, Ayla!” Jondalar said, holding a flint point. He was full of excitement. “I heated the flint the way Wymez does, very hot. I knew I had it right when it cooled because it felt shiny and slick, almost as if it had been oiled. Then I retouched it bifacially, using the pressure techniques he developed. It still isn’t up to his quality, but I think with practice, I may get close. I can see all kinds of possibilities. I can remove those long thin flakes, now. That means I can make points almost as thin as I want, and get a long straight edge for a knife or a spear, without the curve that you always get when you start with a blade detached from a core. I can even straighten those blades more easily with careful retouching on the inner side of both ends of a curved blade. I can make any kind of notch I want. I can make shouldered points with a tang for halting. You can’t believe the control it gives me. I can do anything I want. It’s almost like bending the stone to your will. That Wymez is a genius!”
Ayla smiled at him going on and on. “Wymez may be a genius, Jondalar, but you are just as good,” she said.
“I only wish I were. Remember, he developed the process. I’m only trying to copy it. It’s too bad he lives so far away. But I am grateful for the time I had with him. I wish Dalanar were here. He said he was going to experiment this winter, too, and I’d really like to discuss it with him.”
Jondalar examined the blade again, looking it over critically. Then he looked up and smiled at her. “I almost forgot to tell you. I am definitely going to be taking on Matagan as an apprentice for more than this winter. Since he came to visit, I’ve been able to judge, and I think he does have talent and ability with the stone. I had a long talk with his mother and her mate, and Joharran is agreeable.”
“I like Matagan,” Ayla said. “I’m glad you will be teaching him your craft. You have so much patience, and you arc the best flint-knapper of the Ninth Cave, probably of all the Zelandoni.”
Jondalar smiled at her words. One’s mate always made favorable comparisons, he said to himself, but at a deeper level, he thought it might be true. “Would it be all right if he stays with us all the time?”
“I think I would like that. We have so much room in the main room, we can take part of it to make him a sleeping room,” she said. “I hope the baby doesn’t disturb him. Jonayla still wakes up at night.”
“Young men tend to be sound sleepers. I don’t think he even hears her.”
“I have been meaning to talk to you about something Zelandoni said,” Ayla said.
Jondalar thought she looked a bit troubled. It was probably his imagination.
“Zelandoni asked me to be her acolyte. She wants to train me,” Ayla blurted out.
Jondalar’s head snapped up. “I didn’t know you were interested in becoming a Zelandoni, Ayla.”
“I didn’t think I was, and I still don’t know if I am. She has said before that she thought I belonged in the zelandonia, but the first time she asked me to be her acolyte was right after Jonayla was born. She says she really needs someone, and I already know something about healing. Just because I’m an acolyte doesn’t mean I will necessarily become a Zelandoni. Jonokol has been an acolyte for a long time,” Ayla said, looking down at the vegetables she was cutting.
Jondalar walked over to her and lifted her chin to look directly at her. Her eyes did look troubled. “Ayla, everyone knows the only reason Jonokol is Zelandoni’s acolyte is because he’s such a good artist, he captures the spirit of animals with great skill, and Zelandoni needs him for the ceremonies. He will never be a donier.”
“He might. Zelandoni says he wants to move to the Nineteenth Cave,” Ayla said.
“It’s that new cave you found, isn’t it?” Jondalar said. “Well, he’d be the right