"Wasn't that Rydag?" Tholie said. "The one Nezzie adopted who was…" – she paused, suddenly remembering Dolando's strong and unreasonable feelings – "… an outsider."
Ayla was aware of her hesitation and knew she had not said what she originally intended to say. She wondered why.
"Is he still with them?" Tholie asked, unaccountably flustered.
"No," Ayla said. "He died, early in the season, at the Summer Meeting." Rydag's death still upset and saddened her, and it showed.
Tholie's curiosity vied with her sense of discretion; she wanted to ask more questions, but this was not the time to ask questions about that particular child. "Isn't anyone else hungry? Why don't we eat?" she said.
After everyone had their fill, including Roshario, who didn't eat much, though it was more than she had eaten in one meal in some time, people gathered around the fire with cups of tea or lightly fermented dandelion wine. It was time to tell stories, recount adventures, and, especially, to learn more about the visitors and their unusual traveling companions.
The full complement of Sharamudoi were there, except those few who happened to be away: the Shamudoi, who lived on the land in the high embayment throughout the year, and their river-dwelling kin, the Ramudoi. During the warmer seasons the River People lived on a floating dock moored just below, but in winter they moved up to the high terrace and shared the dwellings of ceremonially joined cross-cousins. The dual couples were considered to be as closely related as mates, and the children of both families were treated as siblings.
It was the most unusual arrangement of closely related groups that Jondalar knew of, but it worked well for them because of their kinship ties and a unique reciprocal relationship that was mutually beneficial. There were many practical and ritual bonds between the two moieties, but primarily the Shamudoi contributed the products of the land and a safe place during rough weather, while the Ramudoi provided the produce of the river and skilled water transportation.
The Sharamudoi thought of Jondalar as kin, but he was kin only through his brother. When Thonolan fell in love with a Shamudoi woman, he had accepted their ways and had chosen to become one of them. Jondalar had lived with them just as long and felt they were family. He had learned and accepted their ways, but he had never gone through any ritual joining in his own right. In his heart he could not give up his identity with his own people, could not make the decision to settle with them permanently. Though his brother had become Sharamudoi, Jondalar was still Zelandonii. The evening conversation began, understandably, with questions about his brother.
"What happened after you left here with Thonolan?" Markeno asked.
As painful as it might be to talk about, Jondalar knew Markeno had a right to know. Markeno and Tholie had become cross-tied with Thonolan and Jetamio; Markeno was as close in kinship as he, and he was a brother born of the same mother. Briefly he told how they had traveled downriver in the boat Carlono had given them, some of their close calls, and their meeting with Brecie, the Mamutoi headwoman of Willow Camp.
"We're related!" Tholie said. "She is a close-cousin."
"I learned that later, when we lived with Lion Camp, but she was very good to us even before she knew we were kin," Jondalar said. "That was what made Thonolan decide to go north and visit other Mamutoi Camps. He talked about hunting mammoth with them. I tried to talk him out of it, tried to convince him to come back with me. We had reached the end of the Great Mother River, and that's as far as he always said he wanted to go." The tall man closed his eyes, shook his head as if trying to deny the fact, then bowed his head in anguish. The people waited, sharing his pain.
"But it wasn't the Mamutoi," he continued after a while. "That was an excuse. He just couldn't get over Jetamio. All he wanted was to follow her to the next world. He told me he was going to travel until the Mother took him. He was ready, he said, but he was more than ready. He wanted to go so much that he took chances. That's why he died. And I wasn't paying attention either. It was stupid of me to follow him when he went after that lioness who stole his kill. If it hadn't been for Ayla, I would have died with him."
Jondalar's last comments piqued everyone's curiosity, but no one wanted to ask questions that would force him to further relive his grief. Finally Tholie broke the silence. "How did you meet Ayla? Were you near Lion Camp?"
Jondalar looked up at Tholie and then at Ayla. He had been speaking in Sharamudoi and he wasn't sure how much she had understood. He wished she knew more of the language so she could tell her own story. It was not going to be easy to explain, or rather to make the explanation believable. The more time that passed, the more unreal it all seemed, even to him, but when Ayla told it, it seemed easier to accept.
"No. We didn't know Lion Camp then. Ayla was living alone, in a valley several days' journey away from Lion Camp," he said.
"Alone?" Roshario asked.
"Well, not entirely alone. She shared her small cave with a couple of animals, for company."
"Do you mean she had another wolf like this one?" the woman asked, reaching over to pat the animal.
"No. She didn't have Wolf then. She got him while we were living at Lion Camp. She had Whinney."
"What is a Whinney?"
"Whinney is a horse."
"A horse? You mean she had a horse, too?"
"Yes. That one, right over there," Jondalar said, pointing to the horses standing in the field, silhouetted against the red-streaked evening sky.
Roshario's eyes opened big with surprise, which made everyone else smile. They had all gone through their initial shock, but she hadn't noticed the horses before. "Ayla lived with those two horses?"
"Not exactly. I was there when the stallion was born. Before that, she lived with just Whinney… and the cave lion," Jondalar finished, almost under his breath.
"And the what?" Roshario changed to her less than perfect Mamutoi. "Ayla, you should tell us. Jondalar's confused, I think. And maybe Tholie will translate for us."
Ayla had caught bits and pieces of the conversation, but she looked to Jondalar for clarification. He looked absolutely relieved.
"I'm afraid I haven't been very clear, Ayla. Roshario wants to hear it from you. Why don't you tell them about living in your valley with Whinney, and Baby, and how you found me," he said.
"And why were you living alone in a valley?" Tholie added.
"It is a long story," Ayla said, taking a deep breath. The people settled back with smiles. That was exactly what they wanted to hear, a long, interesting new story. She took a sip of her tea and thought about how to begin. "I told Tholie, I don't remember who my people were. They were lost in an earthquake when I was a little girl, and I was found and raised by the Clan. Iza, the woman who found me, was a medicine woman, a healer, and she began to teach me healing when I was very young."
Well, that explained how the young woman could have such skill, Dolando thought, while Tholie was translating. Then Ayla picked up her narrative.
"I lived with Iza and her brother, Creb; her mate had died in the same earthquake that took my people. Creb was like the man of the hearth; he helped her raise me. She died a few years ago, but before she did, Iza told me I should leave and look for my own people. I didn't go, I couldn't leave…" Ayla hesitated, trying to decide how much to tell. "… Not then, but after… Creb died… I had to leave."
Ayla paused and took another sip of her tea while Tholie restated her words, having a little trouble with the strange names. The telling had brought back the powerful emotions of that time, and Ayla needed to regain her composure.