“Thank you,” Ayla said. “That was fascinating! Did you work it all out yourself?”
“Not exactly. Other Zelandonia showed me their way of marking, but I saw a plaque at the Fourteenth Cave once that was quite old. It wasn’t marked in quite the same way, but it gave me the idea when it was my time to Mark the Moons.”
“It’s a very good idea,” the First said.
It was very dark when they started back to their sleeping place. Ayla was holding the baby, who was sound asleep wrapped up in her carrying blanket, so both Jondalar and the First each borrowed a torch to see their way.
As they approached the visitors’ shelter, they passed by some of the other shelters they had seen earlier. When she came to the one where she had felt so uncomfortable, Ayla shuddered again and hurried past.
“What’s wrong?” Jondalar asked.
“I don’t know,” Ayla said. “I’ve been feeling strange all day. It’s probably nothing.”
When they reached their shelter, the horses were milling around outside, rather than in the large roomy space she had made for them inside. “Why are they out here? The horses have been acting up all day; that may be what’s bothering me,” Ayla said. As they turned into the shelter toward their tent, Wolf hesitated, then sat down on his haunches and refused to enter. “Now, what’s wrong with Wolf?”
17
“Why don’t we take the horses for a run this morning?” Ayla said softly to the man who was lying beside her. “Yesterday they seemed restless and edgy. I am too. They don’t really get to go free and fast when they are pulling the pole-drags. It’s hard work, but not the kind of exercise they like.”
Jondalar smiled. “That’s a good idea. I don’t get to exercise the way I’d like to either. What about Jonayla?”
“Maybe Hollida would like to watch her, especially if Zelandoni will keep an eye on them,” Ayla said.
Jondalar sat up. “Where is Zelandoni? She’s not here.”
“I heard her get up earlier. I think she went to talk to the Fifth,” Ayla said. “If we leave Jonayla, perhaps we should leave Wolf, too, though I’m not sure how the people of this Cave feel about him. They seemed a little nervous around him while we were eating last night. This is not the Ninth Cave.… Let’s take Jonayla with us. I can take her in her carrying blanket. She likes to ride.”
Jondalar pulled the top of their sleeping roll back and got up. Ayla got up too, leaving the baby who had been sleeping at her side to wake up while she went to pass her water.
“It rained last night,” Ayla said when she got back.
“Now aren’t you glad you stayed inside, in the tent and under cover?” Jondalar said.
Ayla didn’t answer. She hadn’t slept well. She just couldn’t get comfortable, but they did stay dry and the tent aired out.
Jonayla had rolled over on her stomach and was kicking her legs and holding her head up. She had also rolled out of her swaddling, and the soiled absorbent wadding it held in place. Ayla collected the unpleasant material and dumped it in the night basket, rolled up the damp, softened-leather swaddling blanket, then picked up the baby and headed down to the small stream to clean the little one, herself, and the blanket. She rinsed herself and the baby in the running water, a procedure to which the baby was now so accustomed, she didn’t even fuss about it, though it was cold. Ayla hung the swaddling across some brush near the water, then got dressed and found a comfortable place to sit outside of the stone shelter to nurse her infant.
In the meantime, Jondalar had found the horses not far up the valley, brought them back to the abri, and was tying riding blankets on the backs of both Whinney and Racer. At Ayla’s suggestion, he tied equally balanced pack baskets across the mare’s rump as well, but had some difficulty when Gray started nuzzling her dam, trying to nurse. About the time they were ready to go to what Ayla thought of as the main shelter in this place of many shelters, Wolf returned. She assumed he had gone off to hunt earlier, but he appeared so suddenly, he spooked Whinney, which surprised the woman. Whinney was normally a calm horse and the wolf didn’t usually alarm her; it was Racer who was more excitable, but all the horses seemed skittish, even the little filly. And Wolf, too, Ayla thought as he pressed against her as though looking for attention. She felt odd herself. Something seemed off, just not quite right. She looked at the sky to see if any storm threatened; a film of high clouds made the sky white with telltale traces of blue. They probably all needed a good run.
Jondalar put the halters on Racer and Gray. He had also made one for Whinney but Ayla used it only on special occasions. Before she even knew she was training Whinney, she had taught the mare to follow her; she still didn’t think of it as training. When she showed Whinney what to do, and repeated the instruction many times until she understood, then the mare did it because she wanted to. It was similar to the way Iza had trained Ayla to remember the many different plants and herbs, and their uses, by repetition and rote memorization.
When they were all packed, they walked to the shelter of the Zelandoni of the Fifth Cave, and again the procession of man, woman, baby, wolf, and horses caused the people to stop what they were doing and watch, hard pressed to avoid the discourtesy of outright staring. Both the Fifth and the One Who Was First walked out from the shelter.
“Come and join us for a morning meal,” the man said.
“The horses are agitated and we’ve decided to take them out for some exercise to run off their restlessness and settle them down,” Jondalar said.
“We just arrived yesterday. Don’t they get enough exercise traveling?” the First said.
“When we’re traveling and they are pulling loads, they don’t run or gallop,” Ayla explained. “Sometimes they need to stretch their legs.”
“Well, at least come and have some tea, and we’ll pack up some food for you to take with you,” the Zelandoni of the Fifth said.
Ayla and Jondalar looked at each other, and understood that although they would have preferred to just leave, it might offend the Fifth Cave, and that would not be appropriate. They nodded to each other in acquiescence.
“Thank you, we will,” Jondalar said, reaching into the carrying pouch attached to his waist thong and pulling out his personal drinking cup. Ayla also found her cup and passed it down to a woman near the fireplace who was ladling out the hot liquid. She filled the drinking containers, and handed them back. Rather than settling down to graze while they were waiting, the horses were markedly apprehensive, displaying their anxiety. Whinney was dancing in place, sniffing loudly as furrows appeared over her eyes. Gray was picking up her dam’s nervous symptoms, and Racer was sidestepping with his neck arched high. Ayla tried to comfort the mare, running her hand along the side of her neck, and Jondalar was having to hang on to the rope halter to keep the stallion from breaking away.
Ayla glanced across the stream dividing the valley and watched some children running and screaming alongside the waterway in some kind of game that to her seemed more frenzied than usual, even for excited youngsters. She watched them dashing in and out of the shelters, and suddenly had a feeling that it was dangerous, though she didn’t see how it could be. Just as she was about to speak to Jondalar and tell him they had to go, some people brought them rawhide-wrapped packages of food. The couple thanked everyone as they stashed the parfleches in the pack baskets on Whinney; then with the help of some nearby rocks, they climbed up onto the horses’ backs and started riding out of the valley.
As soon as they reached a clear, open field, they eased their control and let the horses run. It was exhilarating and lessened Ayla’s nervousness, but didn’t eliminate it. Finally the horses grew tired and slowed down. Jondalar noticed a stand of trees in the distance and guided Racer in that direction. Ayla saw where he was heading and followed. The young filly, who could already run as fast as her mother, trailed behind. Young horses quickly learned to run fast; they had to if they were going to survive. The wolf raced along with them; he also enjoyed a good run.
As they neared the trees, they could see a small pool, obviously spring fed, that overflowed its banks in a rill that ran off across the field. But as they neared the pool, Whinney suddenly stopped short, which nearly knocked Ayla to the ground. She wrapped her arm around her baby, who had been sitting in front of her, and quickly slid down from the mare’s back. She noticed Jondalar having trouble with Racer, too. The stallion reared up, neighing loudly, and the tall man slid back, then quickly stepped off. He didn’t fall, but had trouble regaining his footing.
Ayla became aware of a loud rumbling, feeling it as much as hearing it, and realized it had been going on for some time. She glanced ahead and saw the water in the pool shoot up in a fountain as though someone had squeezed the spring and sent a squirt of liquid up in the air. It was only then that she noticed the ground was moving.
Ayla knew what it was—she had felt the earth shift beneath her feet before—and felt a gorge of panic rise up in her throat. The earth was not supposed to move. She struggled to keep her balance. Petrified, she clung to her baby, afraid to take a step.
She watched the knee-high grass of the open field perform a strange, quivering dance as the groaning earth moved in unnatural ways to unheard music deep within. Ahead, the small stand of trees near the spring amplified the movement. The water bounced up and fell back, swirled over its bank, churned up dirt from its bed, and spit out muddy globs. She smelled the stench of raw earth; then with a crack, one fir tree suddenly gave way and slowly began to tip over, pulling up and exposing half its circle of roots.
The shaking seemed to go on forever. It brought back recollections of other times, and the losses that had come with the moving, groaning earth. She shut her eyes tight, trembling, and sobbed with grief and fear. Jonayla started to cry. Then Ayla felt a hand on her shoulder, and arms wrap around her and the baby that offered solace and comfort. She leaned against the warm chest of the man she loved, and the baby quieted. Slowly, she became aware that the quaking had stopped and the shuddering earth had stilled, and she felt the tightness inside her lessen.
“Oh, Jondalar,” she cried. “That was an earthquake. I hate earthquakes!” She trembled in his arms. She thought, but didn’t want to say it aloud—voicing thoughts could give them power—that earthquakes were evil; bad things always seemed to happen when the earth shook.
“I don’t much like them either,” he said, holding his fragile little family close. Ayla looked around, and noticed the tilted fir tree near the spring. She shivered with an unexpected memory of a scene long ago.
“What’s wrong?” Jondalar asked.
“That tree,” she said.
He looked where she was gazing and saw the tree near the spring, canted over and roots exposed.
“I remember seeing many trees tipped over and leaning like that, and some on the ground and fallen across a river. It must have been when I was very young …,” she said, hesitating, “before I lived with the Clan. I think it was when I lost my mother, and family, and everything. Iza said that I could walk well and talk; I suppose I could count five years when she found me.”
After she told him of her memory, Jondalar held her until she relaxed again. Though it was just a brief recitation, it gave him a better understanding of the terror she must have felt as a little girl when an earthquake had brought her world crashing down around her, and life as she had known it came to an abrupt end.
“Do you think it will come back? The earthquake? Sometimes when the earth moves like that, it doesn’t settle down right away. It comes back,” Ayla said, when they finally let go of each other.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But maybe we should get back to Old Valley, and make sure everyone there is all right.”
“Of course! I was so scared, I wasn’t thinking about anyone else. I hope everyone is safe. And the horses! Where are the horses?” Ayla cried, looking around. “Are they all right?”
“Aside from being as frightened as we were, I think they’re fine. Racer reared up and made me slide off, but I managed not to fall. Then he started running in big circles. As far as I could tell, Whinney didn’t move, and Gray stayed by her side. I think she must have run away after it stopped.”
Off in the distance on the level field, Ayla spied the animals, and breathed out, relieved. She whistled her special summons loudly and saw Whinney’s head go up, then start in her direction. Racer and Gray followed, and Wolf behind them.
“They’re coming now, and there’s Wolf, too. I think he must have run off with them,” Jondalar said.
By the time the horses and Wolf arrived, Ayla was more composed. Since there was no convenient rock or stump of wood nearby to help her climb on Whinney’s back, she gave Jonayla to Jondalar for a moment, and holding on to the mare’s stand-up mane, she jumped up, threw her leg over, and found her seat. She took the child from the man and watched while Jondalar climbed up on Racer’s back in much the same way, though he was so tall, he could almost step up onto the back of the compact, sturdy stallion.
She looked toward the spring, where the tree still leaned at a precarious angle. It would fall soon, she was sure. Though she had wanted to go there before, she didn’t want to go near it now.
As they started toward Old Valley, they heard a loud crack, and when they glanced back, there was a more muffled boom as they watched the tall fir hitting the ground. Riding back to the Fifth Cave, Ayla wondered about the horses, and the implication of their recent actions.
“Do you suppose that the horses knew the ground was going to shake like that, Jondalar? Was that why they were behaving so strangely?” she asked.
“They definitely were nervous,” Jondalar said, “but I’m glad they were. That’s why we left and were out in the open when it happened. I think it’s safer to be out here; you don’t have to worry about things falling on you.”
“But the ground can open up under you,” Ayla said. “I think that’s what happened to my family. I remember that smell of deep earth, of wetness and decay. But I don’t think all earthquakes are the same. Some are more powerful than others. And most of them can be felt a long distance away, but not as strongly.”
“When you were young, you must have been very close to the place where the shaking started, if all the trees toppled over and the ground opened up. I don’t think we were as close to this one. Only one tree fell.”
Ayla smiled at him. “There aren’t many trees out here to fall, Jondalar.”
He smiled a little ruefully. “That’s true, and all the more reason to be out here when the ground shakes,” he said.
“But how would you know when the ground is going to shake?”
“By paying attention to the horses!” he said.
“If only I could be sure that would always work,” she said.
As they neared Old Valley, they noticed unusual activity. Almost everyone seemed to be outside of the shelters, and many of them were clustered around in front of one of them. They dismounted and walked the horses toward the shelter they had been using, which was just beyond the one where the people were gathered.
“There you are!” the First called out. “I was a little worried about you when the ground started shaking.”
“We’re fine. Are you all right?” Ayla said.
“Yes, yes, but the Fifth Cave has had some injuries, one serious,” the woman said. “Perhaps you might take a look.”
Ayla detected the note of concern in her voice. “Jondalar, would you take the horses and see how everything is? I’m going to stay here and help Zelandoni,” she said.
She followed the large woman until they came to the place in front of the shelter where a boy was lying on a fur bedroll that was spread out on the ground, with the fur side down to make a padding underneath. Extra pads and blankets had been placed under him to elevate his head and shoulders slightly. Soft, pliable skins, covered with blood, were directly under his head, and blood was still seeping out. She took Jonayla out of her carrying blanket, set it out on the ground, and
put the baby down on it. Wolf lay down next to her. Then Hollida appeared.
“I’ll watch her,” she said.
“I would be grateful,” Ayla said. She saw a cluster of people nearby who seemed to be consoling a woman, and realized that it was probably the boy’s mother. She knew how she would feel if he were her son. She exchanged a look with the First, held it for a moment, and understood that the boy’s injury was more than serious. It was grim.
Ayla knelt down to examine him. He was lying in the open in the light of the sun, though high clouds shielded the brightness somewhat. The first thing she noticed was that he was unconscious, but breathing, though it was slow and irregular. He had bled a great deal, but that was usually the case with head wounds. Much more serious was the pink-tinged fluid draining from his nose and ears. That meant the bone of the skull was cracked and the substance inside injured, which did not bode well for the child. Ayla understood the First’s concern. She lifted his eyelids and looked at both of his eyes; one of the pupils contracted in the light, and the other was larger than the first and did not react, another bad sign. She turned his head slightly to allow the bloody mucus coming from his mouth to drain to the side and not clog his breathing passages.
She had to control a reaction to shake her head so the mother wouldn’t see how hopeless she thought it was. She got up and looked intently at the First, communicating her bleak prognosis. They went off to the side where the Zelandoni of the Fifth Cave was watching. Some people from his shelter had come to get the Zelandoni when the boy was hurt, and he had already examined him. He had asked the First to look at the child to confirm his diagnosis.