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.""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 dis- turbing 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 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 sawShe didn't need to know why the process made a cleansing foam, she just knew that it did. It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last, that a discovery was made by accident.

"I'm sure Zelandoni would be interested," Marthona said. She had been aware of the byplay between her son and the young woman. Jondalar wasn't as subtle as he thought, and she was trying to help Ayla keep the discussion in a more serious vein. After all, they would be going to a funeral soon. It was hardly the time to be thinking about Pleasures. "I made a dis- covery like that once when I was making wine. Afterward, my wine always seemed to turn out well."

"Are you finally going to tell your secret, mother?" Jondalar said.

"What secret?"

"How you make wine that always turns out better than anyone else's wine, and never goes to vinegar," Jondalar said with a grin.

She nodded her head with a look of exasperation. "I don't think of it as a secret, Jondalar."said.

"Well, tell us," Jondalar said. "I always knew you did something special."

"I watched Zelandoni chew some herbs when she made a certain medi- cine, so the next time I crushed the berries for wine, I chewed some and spat the juice into the mash before it began to ferment. It think it's strange that something like that should make a difference, but apparently it does."

"Iza taught me that there are some medicines and some special drinks that must be chewed with the mouth to make them work," Ayla said. "Per- haps mixing the berries for wine with a little of the juices from the mouth adds some special ingredient." She had never thought of it before, but it was possible.

"I ask Doni to help make the fruit juice into wine, too. Maybe that's the real secret," Marthona said. "If you don't ask for too much, sometimes the Mother will give you what you want. When you were little, it never used to fail for you, Jondalar. If you asked Doni for it, you always seemed to get what you really wanted. Is that still true?"She watched him, then nodded. "Yes, I imagine that was too much even for the Great Earth Mother to let you have. I don't think you're sorry now, are you?"

Everyone looked puzzled by the rather cryptic conversation between mother and son. Jondalar was noticeably disconcerted. Ayla watched them, then it suddenly came to her that Marthona was talking about Zelandoni, or rather Zolena, the young woman she had been.

"Did you know digging in hallowed ground is one thing only men do, Ayla?" Willamar said, changing the subject to cloak the awkward moment.

"It would be too dangerous to expose the Blessed of Doni to such danger- ous forces."

"And I'm glad, too," Folara said. "It's bad enough to have to clean and dress a person whose spirit is gone. I hate having to do that! I was so happy when you asked me to look after Wolf earlier today, Ayla. I invited all my friends over, and told them to bring their little sisters and brothers. Wolf met a lot of people."entrance, though they had been expecting it. "The zelandonia are ready." It was Joharran's voice. The five of them inside quickly swallowed the last of their wine and went out. Wolf followed them out, but Ayla tied him with the special rope to a firmly planted stake not far from Marthona's dwelling to keep him away from the burial ceremony that everyone would be attending.

Many people had already gathered around the burial shelter. There was a soft hum of conversation as people greeted each other and talked, but in low voices. The wall panels had been removed and Shevonar's body was exposed for all to see, lying on the grass-mat shroud and netted hammock that would be folded around him later to carry him to the burial place. But first he would be carried to the Gather Field, which was large enough for all the people from the six Caves in the region that had taken part in the hunt to come together. Jondalar had gone off with his brother and several others shortly after they reached the area. Marthona and Willamar knew their parts in the forthcoming rituals and hurried to take their places. Ayla didn't know what to do and was feeling at a loss. She decided she would stay in the background and observe, and hope she wouldn't do anything that might embarrass her or Jondalar's family."You'll have to excuse her," the donier said to Ayla's young admirers, a bit abruptly. "She needs to be in front with the zelandonia." Ayla followed the woman. Behind her, the young people were even more impressed.

When they were out of hearing range of the youngsters, the woman spoke softly to Ayla. "The zelandonia don't eat at a burial. You will walk with us, but then you will join Jondalar and Marthona at the head of the line to get your food for the feast."

Ayla didn't question why she would be walking with the fasting zelando- nia but eating with Jondalar's family, though she thought about it later. She had no idea what was expected of her. She could only follow when they started across the bridge up to Down River and continued on to the Gather Field.

The zelandonia did not eat because it was necessary to fast to commu- nicate with the next world, which would be necessary during the burial.

Afterward, the First planned to make an extended metaphysical excursion to contact the elan of Thonolan. It was always difficult to travel to the next world, but she was accustomed to it now and knew what she had to do.

Fasting was a part of the life of the zelandonia, and she sometimes won-From the food being spread out near the high wall at the back, far away from the place where the body was placed, it was evident that many people had been working very hard to prepare it. "This is like a small Summer Meeting," Ayla heard someone say, and thought, If this is small, how big is a Zelandonii Summer Meeting? With something close to two hundred peo- ple from the Ninth Cave alone, plus the people from five other Caves, all of them rather populous, Ayla knew she would never be able to remember all of them. She didn't think there were even enough counting words for them all. She could only think of them as something like a herd of bison when they came together for mating or migrating.

When the six Zelandonia and the six leaders of the Caves arranged themselves around the burial shelter, which had been taken down, carried to the field, and erected again, people began to sit down on the ground and grow quiet. Someone had filled a large plate with choice portions from the feast, including a whole shank of bison. The One Who Was First picked it up and held it high for everyone to see. Then she placed it beside Shevonar's body.status in order to announce their place in this world to the spirits of the next, and to assist the elan of Shevonar in making the difficult transition.

The grieving mate, Relona, and her two children were first, since it was Shevonar's funeral, followed by his brother, Ranokol. Joharran and Proleva and Jaradal filed behind them, then Marthona and Willamar along with Fo- lara, Jondalar-the highest-ranking members of the Ninth Cave-and Ayla.

Ayla didn't know it, but she had presented quite a problem. As a for- eigner, her status in the Cave should have been last. If she and Jondalar had been officially Promised in a recognized ceremony, it would have been easier to place her among Jondalar's high-ranking family, but their upcom- ing mating was only understood, and her acceptance into the Cave was not even formally sanctioned yet. When it came up, Jondalar made it clear that wherever Ayla was placed, he would stay with her. If she was placed last in line, then he would stand last in line.

A man's status originally came from his mother, until he mated. Then, it might change. Normally, before a mating was officially authorized, the fami- lies, and sometimes the leaders and the zelandonia, engaged in Matrimo- nial negotiations, which involved many aspects. For example, gift ex-position was so low, his status could not be negotiated any higher. That was why Zelandoni insisted that she walk to the feast with the zelandonia.

Even as a foreigner, if she was recognized as one of the metaphysical elite, it gave her prestige, ambiguous though it was. And though the zelandonia did not eat at a burial feast, she could be shifted into the line with Jonda- lar's family before anyone could object.

Though some people might realize that a subterfuge had been perpe- trated, once it was done, her place was proclaimed to both this world and the next, and it would be a little late to change it. Ayla herself was com- pletely unaware of the small deception exercised on behalf of Jondalar and her, and in fact, those who engaged in it felt it was an insignificant trans- gression. Both Marthona and Zelandoni, for different reasons, were con- vinced that Ayla was genuinely a person of high status. It was just a matter of making it known.

While the family was eating, Laramar came around and poured some barma into their cups. Ayla remembered him from the first night. She had come to understand that while the beverage he made might be appreci- ated, the man himself was often disparaged, and she wondered why. Ayla watched him as he poured liquid from a waterbag into Willamar's cup. SheThen she saw that his neck was gray with grime, and she was sure that he seldom washed his hands.

It was easy enough to get dirty, particularly in winter when water often had to be melted from ice or snow, and using fuel for water to wash with was not always wise. But in summer, when water was available and soap- root plentiful, most people she knew preferred to be reasonably clean. It was unusual to see anyone quite so filthy.

"Thank you, Laramar," she said, smiled, and took a sip, though seeing the one who produced the brew made it less appetizing.

He smiled back. She had the feeling he didn't smile often and the dis- tinct impression that this smile was insincere. She also noticed that his teeth were crooked. That wasn't his fault, she knew. Many people had crooked teeth, but it did add to his generally disagreeable appearance.

"I was looking forward to your company," Laramar said.

Ayla was puzzled. "Why were you expecting my company?""But she's not Zelandonii, yet," the man said. "She is foreign."

"She is Promised to Jondalar, and her status among her own people was quite high."

"Didn't she say she was raised by flatheads? I didn't know the status of flatheads counted for more than a Zelandonii," he said.

"To the Mamutoi she was a healer and a daughter of their Mamut, their Zelandoni," Marthona said. The former leader was becoming irritated. She did not like having to make explanations to the lowest-ranked man of the Cave... especially when he was right.

"She didn't do much to heal Shevonar, did she?" Laramar said.

"No one could have done more for him than Ayla did, not even the First," Joharran said, coming to her defense. "And she did help relieve his pain so he could hold on until his mate arrived."

Ayla noticed that Laramar's smile had become malicious. He was taking great pleasure in upsetting Jondalar's family and putting them on the de-be left, and once the people were gone, the discarded meat and bones would be taken by various scavengers, while the vegetal matter would de- cay back into the ground. It was a common method of disposal. Laramar walked with Jondalar's family to the refuse heap, Ayla was sure it was to cause them a little more chagrin, then went his own way with a distinct swagger.

After people had gathered around the burial shelter again, the One Who Was First picked up the tightly woven basket of red ochre that Ayla had powdered. "There are Five Sacred Colors. All other colors are aspects of those primary colors. The first color is red," the large donier began. "It is the color of blood, the color of life. Some flowers and fruits show the true color of red, but they are ephemeral.

"Red seldom stays true for long. As blood dries it darkens, becomes brown. Brown is an aspect of red, sometimes called old red. The red ochres of the land are the dried blood of the Great Mother Earth, and though some can be almost as bright as new red, they are all old red.

"Covered with the red of blood from your mother's womb, you came into this world, Shevonar. Covered with the red earth of the Great Mother'sreally the darkest shade of old red. It is the color that overcomes the color of life as it ages. Just as life becomes death, red becomes black, dark.

Dark is the absence of life; it is the color of death. It does not even have an ephemeral life; there are no black flowers. Deep caves show the color in its true form.

"Shevonar, the body your elan inhabited has died and will go into the black under the ground, will return to the dark earth of the Mother, but your elan, your spirit, will go to the world of the spirits, will return to the Mother, the Original Source of Life. Take with you the spirit of this food we have given you to sustain you on your Journey to the spirit world." The large, impressive woman picked up the dish of food that had been left for him, held it up to show, then put it down beside him and sprinkled it with red ochre powder.

"Take with you your favorite spear to hunt the spirit animals for suste- nance." The donier put his spear beside him and sprinkled it with red ochre.

"Take with you your tools to make new spears for the hunters of the next world." She put his spear-shaft straightener under his hand, stiffened with rigor mortis, and sprinkled it with the red powder. "Do not forget the skills you learned in this world, make use of them in the next world. Do not grievebody and its accoutrements a lumpy definition. The netting was pulled up and attached to either end of a pole, which had recently been a small, straight tree. The bark still on the tree helped to keep the hammock with its macabre bundle from sliding.

Then the same men who had dug a pit in the sacred burial ground lifted the body of Shevonar and carried it between them. Joharran was at the front with the pole resting on his left shoulder, and Rushemar slightly be- hind him and on the other side rested it on his right. Solaban was at the rear on the same side as Joharran, but the pole rested on padding on his shoulder, since he was not as tall as Jondalar, who followed him.

The One Who Was First led the way toward the sacred burial ground.

The men carrying the body followed her, and the rest of the Zelandonia placed themselves around the pallbearers. Relona with her two children and then Ranokol walked behind the swaying hammock. The rest of the people fell in behind in the same order they had assumed for the feast.

Ayla again walked with Marthona near the front. She noticed Laramar watching her as he headed toward the last of the people of the Ninth Cave, which put him in front of the leaders of the Third Cave. Although ManvelarThe long line of people followed the path in single file as it narrowed in front of Big Rock, then used the few well-placed flattish stepping-stones to traverse Fish Creek, which ran down the middle of Little Valley. As the path closed in again in front of High Rock, they stayed in line until they reached the Crossing, but instead of continuing south after gaining the opposite bank, as they had done before to go to Two Rivers Rock, they turned left back toward the north and followed another trail.

No longer constrained by a narrow track between river and rock wall, they spread out and walked two or three abreast through the level field of the floodplain, then began to climb the slope of the rolling hills Ayla had seen across The River. The sun was descending in the west, nearing the tops of the cliffs behind when they came to an outcrop and a small, se- cluded, fairly level depression. The procession slowed and then stopped.

Ayla turned and looked back the way they had come. The view swept down a field of fresh summer green that stopped at the shadow cast by the sun setting behind the steep cliffs. The natural soft yellow of the limestone, streaked with the black wash of leached-out impurities, was darkening to deep purple, and a somber gloom cloaked the water flowing at the foot of the stone ramparts. It stretched across The River to shroud the row ofpulled back to create the recessed rear wall of the Gather Field led then to the sculptural relief of the shelters in the cliff of Down River and then, just as The River took a sharp turn to the east, the huge overhanging stone ledge that housed the Ninth Cave.

As they started to move again, Ayla noticed several people carrying torches. "Should I have brought a torch, Willamar?" she asked the man walking beside her. "It will probably be dark before we return."

"It's supposed to be dark," Marthona said; she was walking on the other side of Willamar, "and there will be many torches there. When people leave the burial ground, they will light torches to find their way, but they will not all go in the same direction. Some will go one way, some another, some will go down to The River, and some uphill toward a place we call Lookout. As Shevonar's elan and any other spirits that are near watch us go, they may try to follow us. We need to confuse them so that if they manage to get beyond the boundaries, they won't know which lights to follow."

As the procession approached the burial ground, Ayla noticed the mov- ing light of flickering fire from behind the outcrop and an aromatic scent detectable from quite a distance away. They moved around the obstructionhaps I should say without as much danger," Marthona explained. "And if there is a smell, the torches make it easier to bear." The Zelandonia of the six Caves placed themselves at equidistant intervals around the inside of the circle, offering another layer of protection. The One Who Was First stood at the head of the grave pit, then the four pallbearers with their sad burden carried the hammock into the area encircled by the torchlight. The two men in front walked around the right side of the hole they had dug until they faced the First and stopped, leaving the other two men at the foot. The four men waited silently, holding the body in the burial hammock hanging over the grave. Other family members and the leaders of Shevonar's Cave filled up the area within the torchlit circle, the rest of the people crowded around the outside of the boundaries created by the carved poles.

Then the Zelandoni of the Ninth Cave stepped forward. She paused, and for a moment all was still. Not a single sound was made by the entire throng. Into the silence came the distant roar of a cave lion, followed by the cackle of a hyena, which seemed to set the mood. The next sound she heard was eerie and high-pitched. Ayla was stunned. She felt a shiver down her back; she was not alone.She found herself remembering Iza's burial, when Mog-ur had made those signs in his modified one-handed way over her grave. Then Ayla recalled his death. She had gone inside the cave after the earthquake and found him with his skull crushed by falling stones, lying on top of Iza's burial cairn. She made the signs for him, since no one else had dared to go into the cave with the earthquake still rumbling aftershocks.

But the flute evoked another memory. She had heard the instrument before she ever heard Manen play his flute. It was during the ritual Cave Bear Ceremony at the Clan Gathering. The mog-ur of another clan had played a similar instrument, though the high-pitched warbling sound that symbolized the spiritual voice of Ursus had a different tonal quality from the one Manen had played and the one she heard now.

She was distracted from her thoughts by the First, who began to speak in a rich, resonant voice: "Great Earth Mother, First Progenitor, You have called Your child back to You. He was called in sacrifice to the Spirit of Bison, and the Zelandonii, Your children who live in the southwest of this land, ask that this one life be enough. He was a brave hunter, a good mate, a maker of fine spears. He honored You well in this life. Guide him back toThe measured beat of something pounding on something began. The sound was slightly dulled-or at least not as crisp-because several in- struments were playing together. The objects consisted of skins stretched very tight over one side of circular hoops, with a handle to hold it. The eerie sound of the flute joined in, weaving in and around the steady beat of the drums. The evocative tone seemed to encourage the emotional release of tears. Relona began to cry and keen her misery and grief once more. Soon all the people were wailing and keening, with tears in their eyes.

Then a voice joined in, a full sonorous contralto singing without words but fitting into the rhythm of the drums and blending with the flute, sounding almost like an instrument. The first time Ayla heard anyone sing was when she went to live with the Mamutoi. Most of the Lion Camp sang, at least along with a group. She had enjoyed listening to them and tried to join in, but singing was something she couldn't seem to do. She could hum in a kind of monotone, but she could not carry a tune. She recalled that some people were much better singers than others, and had admired them, but she had never before heard so rich and vibrant a voice. The voice be- longed to Zelandoni, the One Who Was First, and Ayla was overwhelmed.They dragged the hide upon which the earth from the grave had been piled closer to the hole again, and wedged the tree pole upright into the grave below the foot, using some of the loose dirt to support it. Another, shorter pole was placed at the head of the man, one that had been carved and painted with red ochre in the shape of Shevonar's abelan. His identify- ing mark would indicate the place where he was buried and act as a warn- ing that his body was laid to rest there and that his elan might still be nearby.

Relona walked forward stiffly, trying to stay in control of herself. She went to the pile, then, almost angrily, grabbed some dirt in each hand and threw it into the grave. Two older women helped each of her two children to do the same, then picked up handfuls themselves and dropped it on the wrapped body. Then all the people came forward, each taking a couple of handfuls of earth and tossing it into the grave. By the time everyone had passed by, adding their dirt, the hole was filled in and loose earth was heaped into a mound.

A few went back to add a little more. Then, suddenly, Relona fell to her knees, and tears nearly blinding her, she threw herself on the soft earth over the grave, heaving great sobs. Her eldest child walked back to her andAfter a while, Ayla saw the mother begin to respond to the young child's fearful sobs. Relona pushed herself away from the grave and, without even brushing herself off, took her daughter into her arms. The older one sat down and wrapped his arms around his mother's neck. She put an arm around him, too, and all three sat there crying together.

But the sound of these sobs seemed to have a different tone, Ayla thought, not so much of despair, but of mutual sadness and comfort. Then, at a signal from the First, the zelandonia and several others, including Ra- nokol, Shevonar's brother, helped them all up and led them away from the grave.

Ranokol's pain at the loss of his brother had been as great as Relona's, but he expressed it differently. He kept wondering why Shevonar had to make the sacrifice and not him. His brother had a family, and he didn't even have a mate. Ranokol couldn't stop thinking about it, but he didn't want to talk about it. He would have avoided the burial ceremony altogether if he could have, and throwing himself on the grave was the last thing he wanted to do. He just wanted to leave as soon as he could.changed, and Zelandoni began to sing again, "Out of the darkness, the chaos of time, The whirlwind gave birth to the Mother sublime.

She woke to Herself knowing life had great worth, The dark empty void grieved the Great Mother Earth."

The people responded in unison, some singing, some just saying the words.

"The Mother was lonely. She was the only."

Then the One Who Was First sang alone again.

"From the dust of Her birth She created the other, A pale shining friend, a companion, a brother.

They grew up together, learned to love and to care, And when She was ready, they decided to pair."

And the people responded again, with the next line.Then the Mother grew restless, unsure in Her heart.

She loved Her fair friend, Her dear complement, But something was missing, Her love was unspent."

"She was the Mother. She needed another."

"She dared the great void, the chaos, the dark, To find the cold home of the life-giving spark.

The whirlwind was fearsome, the darkness complete.

Chaos was freezing, and reached out for Her heat."

"The Mother was brave. The danger was grave."

"She drew from cold chaos the creative source, Then conceiving within, She fled with life-force.

She grew with the life that She carried inside.

And gave of Herself with love and with pride."

"The Mother was bearing. Her life She was sharing."

"The dark empty void and the vast barren Earth, With anticipation, awaited the birth.

Life drank from Her blood, it breathed from Her bones.

It split Her skin open and sundered Her stones.""In violent labor spewing fire and strife, She struggled in pain to give birth to new life.

Her dried clotted blood turned to red-ochred soil, But the radiant child made it all worth the toil."

"The Mother's great joy. A bright shining boy."

Ayla's breath caught in her throat when she heard those words. They seemed to tell the story of her and her son, Durc. She remembered strug- gling in pain to give birth to him and afterward, how it was all worth it. Durc had been her great joy. Zelandoni continued in her magnificent voice.

"Mountains rose up spouting flames from their crests, She nurtured Her son from Her mountainous breasts.

He suckled so hard, the sparks flew so high, The Mother's hot milk laid a path through the sky."