Part 24 (1/2)

”I was looking for Marthona. She isn't at home and she wasn't with Proleva. I wondered if she might have come here,” Ayla said.

”No, she's not here.”

”Well, I'm sorry to have bothered you. I know how busy you are. I shouldn't have taken up your time,” Ayla said.

”It's perfectly all right,” the donier said, then she noted that the young woman seemed tense, but eager, and somehow hopeful. ”Did you want Marthona for anything special?”

”No, I was just looking for her. I thought she might need help with something.”

”If you are looking for something to do, perhaps you can help me,” Zelandoni said, holding the drape open while she stepped back. Ayla's big, pleased smile made the older woman realize that was the real reason she had come.

”Is it all right for Wolf to come in?” Ayla said. ”He won't disturb anything.”

”I know he won't. I told you we understood each other,” the donier said, holding back the drape to allow the animal in after Ayla. ”The red ochre you collected for me needs to be ground into powder. There's the mortar,” Zelandoni said, showing her a red-stained stone with a saucerlike depression formed by years of use, ”and here's the rock for grinding. Jonokol will be here soon and will need it to a.s.sist me in making a post with Shevonar's abelan. He is my acolyte.”

”I met a man named Jonokol at the welcoming feast, but he said he was an artist,” Ayla said.

”Jonokol is an artist. He is also my acolyte. I think he is more artist than acolyte, though. He has no interest in healing, or even finding his way to the spirit world. He seems content to remain an acolyte, but he is young yet. Time will tell. He may yet feel the call. In the meantime, he is a fine artist, and he makes an excellent a.s.sistant,” Zelandoni said, then added, ”Most artists are also zelandonia. Jonokol has been since he was very young, when he first showed talent.”

Ayla was glad to grind the red iron oxide into powder, it was a way to be of help without special training, but the repet.i.tious physical activity left her mind free to think. She wondered about the zelandonia, and why artists, like Jonokol, would be brought into the group when they were so young; they couldn't possibly know anything about what it was or meant. Why would artists need to be part of the zelandonia?

While she was working, Jonokol came in. He looked at Ayla, and then the wolf with some surprise. Wolf lifted his head up, then glanced at Ayla, tensing to rise if she signaled. She motioned a sign that meant the man was welcome. The wolf relaxed, but continued to be watchful.

”Ayla came over to help, Jonokol,” Zelandoni said. ”I understand you have met.”

”Yes, the first night she was here. Greetings, Ayla,” Jonokol said.

Ayla finished grinding the red lumps into fine powder and gave the mortar, grinding stone, and the red powder to Zelandoni, hoping the woman would give her something else to do, but it soon became evident that they were both waiting for her to go. ”Is there anything else you would like me to do?” she finally asked.

”Not right now,” the donier said.

Ayla nodded, then signaled to Wolf and left. Marthona was still gone when she returned to the dwelling, and with Jondalar away, she didn't know what to do. I should have stayed and had tea with Proleva, she thought. Then she decided, Why not go back? Ayla wanted to get to know the accomplished and admired woman. After all, they were going to be related; she was the mate of Jondalar's brother. Maybe I could even bring a nice tea, Ayla thought, something with dried linden flowers to add a nice fragrance and a little sweetening. I wish I knew if a linden tree grew nearby.

15.

The men were nearly finished digging the grave pit, and glad of it. The Zelandonia had invoked strong protection for them before they left to make the ground ready to receive the body of Shevonar, including pouring red powdered ochre over their hands, but each of them still had trembled privately when they crossed the invisible barrier marked by the carved and red-painted posts.

The four diggers wore large leather hides with no shaping and totally devoid of decoration, sort of a blanket with a hole through the middle for their heads. A face-covering hood went over their heads with holes cut out for their eyes but not their mouths or noseholes-bodily openings that invited the entry of a spirit.

The covering was intended to hide their ident.i.ty from any spirits that might be lurking nearby looking for a living body to inhabit; there could be no abelans, no symbols or designs of any kind to announce who was encroaching upon the sacred ground and disturbing the spirits. They did not speak, for even the sound of their voices could give them away. Digging a grave trench was not a job that was easy to delegate, and Joharran had decided that since he was the one who was responsible for organizing the ill-fated hunt, he ought to be one of the diggers. He had chosen his two aides, Solaban and Rushemar, and his brother Jondalar, to a.s.sist him. Though the four men knew each other well, they sincerely hoped it was not apparent to any lingering elans.

It was hard work chopping up the hard ground with the stone mattocks. The sun was high overhead, and they were sweaty and hot. It was difficult to breathe inside the leather hoods, but not one of the strong, fearless hunters even considered removing them. Any one of them could face up to a charging rhinoceros and dodge aside at the last moment, but it took far more courage to brave the unseen dangers of the hallowed burial ground.

None of them wanted to stay in the enclosure haunted by spirits any longer than necessary, and they worked as fast as they could, scooping out the dirt loosened by the mattocks. The shovels they used were made of the large flat bones, scapulas or pelvises, of the bigger animals with one side tapered, then smoothed with a round stone and river sand to a fairly sharp edge to make shoveling easier. The opposite end was attached to a long branch. The dirt was placed on leather hides similar to the ones they wore, so it could be pulled away from the edge of the pit to make room for the many people who would be crowding close.

Joharran nodded to the others when the last few shovelfuls of loose earth were pitched out of the hole. It was deep enough. They gathered up the tools and quickly left. Still not speaking, they walked far away from the living areas to a place that had been selected earlier, one seldom frequented by people.

Joharran thrust the pick end of the mattock into the ground, then the diggers dug a second hole, smaller than the first, took off the hoods and coverings and threw them into it, then carefully filled the dirt back in. The digging tools would be returned to the special place they were kept, but the diggers were careful not to let any part of the tools touch any part of their own naked bodies, except for their ochre-reddened hands.

They went directly to a special small cave near the valley floor in the cave-pocked limestone cliffs. A carved post with the Zelandonii abelan and other markings was planted in the ground in front of it. They went in, replaced the burial digging tools, and quickly left, grasping the post with both hands and murmuring a few sounds under their breaths asking for the protection of the Mother as they went. Then they followed a snaking path to another cave in the highland, the one used primarily by the zelandonia for ceremonies involving men and boys.

The six Zelandonia of the Caves that took part in the tragic hunt were waiting for them outside the cave, along with several acolytes. They had water, heated almost to the boil with hot rocks, and several varieties of saponin-producing plants, generally referred to as soaproots. The foamy lather turned red from the ochre powder used to protect their hands and feet. Hot water, almost too hot to stand, was poured over their stained appendages into a small hole dug in the earth. The ablution was performed a second time, making sure no trace of red remained. They even cleaned under their fingernails with small pointed sticks. Then they washed a third time. They were inspected and, if necessary, washed again, until each Zelandoni was satisfied.

Then each man took watertight baskets of warm water and more soaproots and washed his entire body, including his hair. Only when they were finally declared purified, and were allowed to don their own clothing, did they breathe easier. The One Who Was First gave each of them a cup of hot, bitter-tasting tea, instructing them to first rinse out their mouths, spit it out in a special hole, then drink the rest. They rinsed and swallowed hurriedly and left quickly, relieved that this part was over. None of them liked being so close to such powerful magic.

Jondalar and the other men walked into Joharran's home, talking softly, still conscious of their close contact with the world of the spirits.

”Ayla was here looking for you, Jondalar,” Proleva said. ”She left, then came back with some delicious tea. We talked a little, but then several people came to talk about the burial feast. She offered to help, but I told her next time. I'm sure Zelandoni has other plans for her. She left not long ago. I have to go, too. There's some food and hot tea for you in the cooking room.”

”Did Ayla say where she was going?” Jondalar asked.

”To your mother's.”

”Thank you. I'll go see what she wanted.”

”Have a bite to eat first. That was hard work,” Proleva said.

He ate quickly, washed it down with some tea, then started out. ”Let me know when the zelandonia are ready, Joharran,” Jondalar said as he left.

Everyone was sitting around the low table, drinking Marthona's wine, when he went into his mother's dwelling.

”Get your cup, Jondalar,” she said. ”I'll pour you some. This has been a difficult day, and it's not over yet. I thought we should all try to relax a little.”

”You look all scrubbed and clean, Jondalar,” Ayla said.

”Yes, and am I ever glad that's over. I want to do my part, but I hate digging in hallowed ground,” Jondalar said, and felt a shudder.

”I know how you feel,” Willamar said.

”If you were digging, why are you so clean?” Ayla asked.

”He was helping to dig the burial pit,” Willamar explained, ”and he had to be completely purified after digging in the sacred burial ground and disturbing the spirits. The zelandonia use hot water and lots of soaproot, and foam up several times.”

”That reminds me of the hot pool of the Losadunai. Remember, Jondalar?” Ayla said. She noticed that his expression had changed to a suggestive smile, and she recalled one pleasurable afternoon with him in the natural hot spring. She looked away, trying not to smile back. ”Do you remember that cleansing foam they made using rendered fat and ashes?”

”Yes. It really foamed up and made things cleaner than anything I've ever seen,” he said. ”It even took all taste and smell away.” His smile had grown, and she knew he was teasing her with double meanings. He had said then, when they shared Pleasures, that he couldn't even taste her. But it was an interesting experience to feel so clean.

”I was thinking,” Ayla said, still avoiding Jondalar's amorous glances and trying to be serious, ”that cleansing foam could be very good for purifying. Some Losadunai women showed me how to make it, but it can be tricky, and doesn't always work. Maybe I should try to make some to show Zelandoni.”

”I can't imagine how fat and ashes can make someone clean,” Folara said.

”I wouldn't believe it myself if I hadn't seen it,” Ayla said, ”but when you mix them together in a certain way, something happens and you don't have fat or ashes anymore, but something else. You have to add water to the ashes, cook it a while, then let it cool before you strain it. It becomes very strong, it can even give you blisters if you are not careful. It is like the part of fire that burns you, but without heat. Then you add melted fat to it, about the same amount of fat as there is liquid, but both the fat and the strained liquid must have the same feeling of heat as the skin at the inside of your wrist. If you've done everything right, when you mix it around, it makes a foam that can clean almost anything. You rinse the foam away, and it takes dirt with it. It can even take grease away.”

”Why would someone decide to put fat and ash-water together in the first place?” Folara asked.

”The woman who told me about it said it was an accident the first time she did it,” Ayla explained. ”She'd been cooking or rendering some fat over a firepit when it started to rain very hard. She ran to get under cover. When she went back, she thought the fat was ruined. It had overflowed into the firepit that had been full of ashes and had filled up with rain. Then she saw the wooden spoon she'd been using to stir it. It had taken a long time to carve and was a favorite of hers, so she decided to retrieve it. She reached through a slippery foam that she thought was ruined fat to get the spoon, and when she went to clean the foam off, she discovered it not only rinsed away easily, but it left her hand and the spoon clean.”