The shelters of stone - Jean M. Auel [75]
“I am Brukeval,” he said. He seemed hesitant and shy. “I’m a cousin of Jondalar.” His voice was quite low-pitched, but rich and resonant, very pleasing.
“Greetings! I am called Ayla of the Mamutoi,” she said, intrigued by more than his voice or demeanor.
He did not quite resemble the rest of the Zelandonii she had met. Rather than the usual blue or gray eyes, his large eyes were quite dark. Ayla thought they might be brown, but it was hard to be sure in firelight. More startling than his eyes, however, was his general appearance. He had a look that was familiar to her. His features had the cast of the Clan!
He’s a mixture, both Clan and Others. I’m sure of it, she thought. She studied him, but only with glances. He seemed to bring out her Clan woman training and she found herself being careful not to stare too directly. She didn’t think he was an equal mixture of half Clan, half Others, like Echozar, to whom Joplaya was Promised … or her own son.
The look of the Others was stronger in this man; his forehead was essentially high and straight, sloping back only a little, and when he turned she could see that while his head was long, the back of it was round and lacked the protruding bony occipital bun. But his browridges, which overhung his large deep-set eyes, were his most distinctive feature, not quite as imposing as men of the Clan, but definitely prominent. His nose was quite big, too, and though more finely modeled than Clan men, it had the same general shape.
She thought he probably had a receding chin. His dark brown beard made it hard to tell, but the beard itself made the man seem similar to the men she had known as a child. The first time Jondalar had shaved, which he usually did in summer, it had been a shock to her, and it had made him appear very young, preadolescent. She had never seen a grown man without a beard before that. This man was somewhat shorter than average, slightly shorter than her, though he was powerfully built, burly with heavy muscles and a deep barrel chest.
Brukeval had all the masculine qualities of the men she had grown up with, and she thought he was quite handsome in a comfortable way. She even felt a slight ringle of attraction. She was also feeling tipsy—definitely no more cups of barma for her.
Ayla’s warm smile communicated her feeling, but Brukeval thought there was an engaging shyness about her, too, in the way she glanced aside and looked down. He was not used to women reacting to him with such warmth, especially beautiful women who were with his tall, charismatic cousin.
“I thought you might want a cup of Laramar’s barma,” Brukeval said. “There have been so many people around you, all wanting to talk, but no one seemed to think you might be thirsty.”
“Thank you. I actually am thirsty, but I don’t dare have any more of that,” she said, indicating the cup. “I’ve already had so much, I’m dizzy.” Then she smiled, one of her full, glowing, irresistible smiles.
Brukeval was so entranced, he forgot to breathe for a moment. He’d been wanting to meet her all evening, but had been afraid to approach her. He had been casually spurned by beautiful women before. With her golden hair gleaming in the firelight, her firm and remarkably shapely body shown off becomingly by the soft clinging leather, and the slightly foreign features giving her an exotic appeal, he thought she was the most extraordinarily beautiful woman he had ever seen.
“Can I get you something else to drink?” Brukeval finally asked, smiling with a boyish eagerness to please. He hadn’t expected her to be so open and friendly to him.
“Go away, Brukeval. I was here first,” said Charezal, not entirely in fun. He had seen the way she smiled at Brukeval, and he had been trying all evening to entice Ayla away, or at least extract a promise that she would meet him some other time.
Few men would have been so persistent in trying to interest a woman chosen by Jondalar, but Charezal had moved to the Ninth Cave only the year before from a distant Cave. He was several years younger than Jondalar, had not even reached manhood