The valley of horses_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [165]
“Thonolan! Am I happy to see you! I was afraid that when they found that empty boat I’d be given up for lost.”
“Big Brother, how many rivers have we crossed together? Don’t you think I know you can swim? Once we found the boat, we knew you were upriver and couldn’t be much farther ahead.”
“Who took half this fish?” Dolando asked.
“I gave it away.”
“Gave it away! Who did you give it to?” Markeno asked.
“Who could you give it to?” Carolio added.
“To a flathead.”
“A flathead?!” many voices echoed in response. “Why would you give half a fish that size to a flathead?” Dolando asked.
“He helped me, and he asked for it.”
“What kind of nonsense is that? How could a flathead ask for anything?” Dolando said. He was angry, which surprised Jondalar. The leader of the Sharamudoi seldom showed his ire. “Where is he?”
“He’s gone by now, into the woods. I was soaked, and shivering so badly that I thought I’d never warm up. Then this young flathead appeared and led me to his fire.…”
“Fire? Since when do they use fire?” Thonolan asked.
“I’ve seen flatheads with fire,” Barono said.
“I’ve seen them on this side of the river before, too … from a distance,” Carolio remarked.
“I didn’t know they were back. How many were there?” Dolando asked.
“Just the young one, and an older female. Maybe his dam,” Jondalar replied.
“There’s more, if they have their females with them.” The stocky leader glanced around the woods. “Maybe we should get up a flathead hunting party and clean the vennin out.”
There was ugly menace in Dolando’s tone that made Jondalar look twice. He’d picked up shades of that feeling toward flatheads in the leader’s comments before, but never with such venom.
Leadership among the Sharamudoi was a matter of competence and persuasion. Dolando was tacitly acknowledged leader not because he was the best in every way, but because he was competent, and he had the ability to attract people to him and handle problems when they arose. He did not command; he cajoled, coaxed, convinced, and compromised, and in general provided the oil that smoothed the inevitable friction of people living together. He was politically astute, effective, and his decisions were usually accepted, but no one was required to abide by them. Arguments could be vociferous.
He was confident enough to push his own judgment when he felt it was right, and to defer to someone with greater knowledge or experience on a particular subject if the need arose. He tended not to interfere in personal squabbles unless they got out of hand and someone called him in. Though generally dispassionate, his ire could be raised by cruelty, stupidity, or carelessness that threatened or caused harm to the Cave as a whole, or to someone unable to defend himself. And by flatheads. He hated them. To him, they were not just animals, they were dangerous, vicious animals that should be eliminated.
“I was freezing,” Jondalar objected, “and that young flathead helped me. He brought me to his fire, and they gave me a fur to use. As far as I’m concerned, he could have had the whole fish, but he only took half. I’m not about to go out on any flathead-hunting party.”
“They don’t usually cause that much trouble,” Barono said. “But if they’re around, I’m glad to know it. They’re smart. It’s not a good idea to let a pack catch you by surprise …”
“They’re murderous brutes …” Dolando said.
Barono ignored the interjection. “You’re probably lucky it was a younger one and a female. The females don’t fight.”
Thonolan didn’t like the direction the conversation was heading. “How are we going to get this splendid half-catch of my brother’s home?” He remembered the ride the fish had given Jondalar, and a grin cracked his face. “After the fight he gave you, I’m surprised you let half of him get away.”
The laughter spread to the others, with nervous relief.
“Does that mean he’s half Ramudoi, now?” Markeno said.
“Maybe we can take him hunting and he