The shelters of stone - Jean M. Auel [83]
The day was warm; the hot sun warmed even the steady wind. As Ayla neared a small tributary, not much more than a trickle, but quick and sparkling, she looked upstream and saw a little waterfall coming down the rock face. She felt thirsty and, remembering that she had wanted to fill the waterbag, turned toward the water glinting down the side of the cliff.
She got off her horse, and they all took a drink from the pool at the bottom of the falls, Ayla from cupped hands, then she filled the waterbag with the cold, fresh liquid. She sat there a while, feeling refreshed and still a bit indolent, picking up small pebbles and idly tossing them into the water. Her eyes scanned the unfamiliar terrain, unconsciously noting details. She picked up another stone, rolled it in her hand, feeling the texture, looking at it but not seeing it, then tossed it.
It took a while for the character of the stone to penetrate her consciousness. Then she scrambled around to find it again, and when she picked it up—or one like it—she looked at it more carefully. It was a small, grayish-gold nodule, with the sharp angles and flat sides of its inherent crystal structure. Suddenly she reached for the flint knife she carried in the sheath on her belt and struck the stone with the back of it. Sparks flew! She struck it again.
“This is a firestone!” she shouted aloud.
She hadn’t seen any since she left her valley. She looked closely at the stones and pebbles on the ground in and near the streambed, and spied another piece of iron pyrite, and then another. She picked up several as her excitement grew.
She sat back on her heels, looking at her small pile of similar stones. There are firestones here! Now we won’t have to be so careful with the ones we have, we can get more. She could hardly wait to show Jondalar.
She gathered them up and a few more that she noticed, then whistled for Whinney, who had strayed off toward a patch of succulent green. But just before she made ready to mount, she saw Jondalar striding in their direction. Wolf at his side.
“Jondalar!” she called out, running toward him. “Look what I found!” she said, holding out several of the pieces of iron pyrite as she ran. “Firestones! There are firestones around here. They’re all over this stream!”
He hurried toward her, beaming a great smile, as much in response to her exuberant delight as for the remarkable find. “I didn’t know they were so close, but then I never much paid attention to this kind of stone, I was always looking for flint. Show me where you found them.”
She took him to the little pool at the foot of the waterfall, then trained her eyes on the rocks of the streambed and along the sides of the diminutive waterway. “Look!” she said triumphandy. “There’s another one,” pointing at a stone on the bank.
Jondalar knelt down and picked it up. “You’re right! This will make a difference, Ayla. It could mean firestones for everybody. If they are here, there may be other places nearby that have them, too. No one even knows about them yet, I haven’t had a chance to tell anyone.”
“Folara knows, and Zelandoni,” Ayla said.
“How do they know?”
“Remember the calming tea Zelandoni made for Willamar when you told him about your brother? I made Folara nervous when I used a firestone to start the fire that had gone out, so I promised her I’d show her how they worked. She told Zelandoni,” Ayla said.
“So Zelandoni knows. Somehow she always ends up knowing about things first,” Jondalar said. “But we’ll have to come back and look for more, later. Right now, some people want to talk to you.”
“About the Clan?” she guessed.
“Joharran came and got me this morning for a meeting, before I really wanted to get up, but I made him let you sleep. I’ve been talking about our meeting with Guban and Yorga. They’re very interested, but it’s hard for them to believe the Clan are people and not animals. Zelandoni has been analyzing some of the Elder Legends more closely—she’s the one who knows about the history of the