The valley of horses_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [253]
When he finally ran out of usable material, not six, but twenty-five blades were lined up in a row—more than four times the useful cutting edge from the same amount of stone: more than four times the number of blanks. Long and thin, with surgically sharp edges, the blades were usable as cutting implements as they were, but they were not his finished product. They would be further shaped for a multitude of uses, primarily to make other tools. Depending on the shape and quality of the flint nodule, not four, but up to six or seven times the usable number of blanks for tools could be made from stones of the same size with the more advanced technique. The new method not only gave the toolmaker more control, it gave his people an unparalleled advantage.
Jondalar picked up one of the blades and gave it to Ayla. She checked the sharpness of the edge lightly with her thumb, exerted some pressure to test its strength, and turned it over in her hand. It curved up at the ends; it was the nature of the material, but more noticeable in the long thin blade. She held her palm out flat and watched it rock on its bowed back. The shape did not, however, limit its function.
“Jondalar, this is … I don’t know the word. It’s wonderful … important. You made so many … You are not through with these, are you?”
He smiled. “No, I’m not through.”
“They are so thin and fine—they are beautiful. They might break more easily, but I think with the ends retouched, they’d be strong scrapers.” Her practical side was already imagining the blanks into tools.
“Yes, and like yours, good knives—though I’d want to put a tang on it for a handle.”
“I don’t know what ‘tang’ is.”
He picked up a blade to explain. “I can blunt the back of this and shape a point, and I would have a knife. If I pressure off a few flakes on the inner face, I can even straighten out the curve somewhat. Now, about halfway down the blade, if I use pressure to break off the edge and make a shoulder, and leave just a prong on the lower end, that is a tang.”
He picked up a small segment of antler. “If I fit the tang into a piece of bone, or wood, or antler like this, the knife will have a handle. It’s easier to use with a handle. If you boil antler for a while, it will swell and soften, and then you can force the tang into the middle where it’s softer. When the antler dries, it shrinks and tightens around the tang. Often it will hold without binding or glue for a long time.”
Ayla was excited about the new method, and wanted to practice it as she had always done after watching Droog, but she wasn’t sure if it would violate Jondalar’s customs or traditions. The more she learned about the ways of his people, the less sense they made. He didn’t seem to mind her hunting, but he might not want her to make his kind of tools.
“I would like to try.… Is there … objection to women making tools?”
Her question pleased him. It took skill to make her kind of tools. He was sure even the best toolmaker had inconsistent results, though the worst could probably turn out some that were usable—even smashing a flint boulder by accident usually produced a few pieces that were usable. But he would have understood if she had tried to justify her method. Instead, she seemed to recognize his technique for what it was—a vast improvement—and wanted to try it. He wondered how he would feel if someone showed him as radical an improvement.
I’d want to learn it, he said to himself with a wry grin.
“Women can be good flint knappers. Joplaya, my cousin, is one of the best. But she’s a terrible tease—so I would never tell her that. She’d never let me forget it.” He smiled at the memory.
“In the Clan, women can make tools, but not weapons.”
“Women make weapons. After they have children, Zelandonii women seldom hunt, but if they learned when they were young, they understand how weapons are used. Many tools and weapons are lost or broken on a hunt. A man whose mate knows how to make new ones always has a fresh supply. And women are closer to the