The shelters of stone - Jean M. Auel [56]
“She’ll be formally introduced to everyone tonight,” he said, feeling protective of Ayla.
“That’s what we heard, but we don’t need a formal introduction. We just wanted to greet her and make her welcome.”
He could hardly refuse to introduce them. “Ayla, of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi, this is Marona of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, and her friends.” He looked more closely. “Portula? Of the Fifth Cave? Is it you?” Jondalar asked.
The woman smiled and blushed with pleasure to be remembered. Marona frowned at her. “Yes, I’m Portula, but I’m Third Cave now.” She certainly remembered him. He had been chosen for her First Rites.
But he recalled that she had been one of those young women who had followed him around afterward, trying to get him alone, even though they were forbidden to associate for at least a year after First Rites. Her persistence had spoiled somewhat his memory of a ceremony that usually left him with a warm glow of fondness for the young woman involved.
“I don’t think I know your other friend, Marona,” Jondalar said. She seemed to be a little younger than the other two.
“I am Lorava, Portula’s sister,” the young woman said.
“We all became acquainted when I was mated to a man from the Fifth Cave,” Marona said. “They came to visit me.” She turned to Ayla. “Greetings, Ayla of the Mamutoi.”
Ayla stood up to return the greetings. Although it normally wouldn’t have bothered her, she found herself feeling slightly disconcerted to be greeting unfamiliar women with no clothes on, and wrapped her drying skin around her, tucking it in at the waist, and put her amulet back around her neck.
“Grrreetings, Marrrona, of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonyee,” Ayla said, her slightly rolled r’s and peculiar throaty accent marking her immediately as a stranger. “Grrreetings, Porrrtula of the Fifth Cave, and Grrreetings to her Sister, Lorrrava,” she continued.
The younger woman tittered at Ayla’s funny way of talking and then tried to hide it, and Jondalar thought he noticed a trace of a smirk on Marona’s face. His brow wrinkled in a frown.
“I wanted to do more than greet you, Ayla,” Marona said. “I don’t know if Jondalar ever mentioned it, but as you know by now, we were Promised before he decided to leave on this great Journey he suddenly had to make. As I’m sure you must know, I wasn’t very pleased about it.”
Jondalar was trying to think of something to say to ward off what he felt sure was coming, Marona letting Ayla know that she was very unhappy by giving her an earful of his faults, but she surprised turn.
“But that was in the past,” Marona said. “To be honest, I haven’t thought about him in years, until you arrived today. Other people may not have forgotten, however, and some of them like to talk. I wanted to give them something else to talk about, to show them that I can greet you appropriately.” She motioned toward her friends to include them. “We were going to go to my room to get ready for your Welcome Feast tonight, and we thought you might like to join us, Ayla. My cousin Wylopa is there already—you remember Wylopa, don’t you, Jondalar? I thought it would give you a chance to get acquainted with some women before all the formal meetings tonight.”
Ayla noticed some tension, particularly between Jondalar and Marona, but under the circumstances that wouldn’t be unusual. Jondalar had mentioned Marona, and that they had been almost Promised before he left, and Ayla could imagine how she would feel in the woman’s place. But Marona had been straightforward about it, and Ayla did want to get to know some of the women better.
She missed women friends. She had known so few women her own age when she was growing up. Uba, Iza’s true daughter, had been like a sister to her, but Uba was much younger, and while Ayla had grown to care for all the