and exposed himself to the old woman’s view, glowering at his brother who was hanging on to his sides, snorting, in a futile attempt to constrain his glee. The old woman looked at him, cocked her head to one side, and, with a gnarled finger, touched him.
Jondalar’s crimson turned to purple when, for some inexplicable reason, he felt his manhood swell. The woman cackled, and there were sniggers from the men standing nearby, but a strangely subdued note of awe as well. Thonolan burst out in loud guffaws, stomping and bending over double as tears came to his eyes. Jondalar hastily covered his offending member, feeling foolish and angry.
“Big Brother, you must really need a woman to get a rise over that old hag,” Thonolan quipped, catching his breath and wiping away a tear. Then he burst into uproarious laughter again.
“I just hope it’s your turn next,” Jondalar said, wishing he could think of some witty remark to squelch him.
The old woman signaled to the leader of the men who had stopped them, and spoke to him. A heated exchange followed. Jondalar heard the woman say “Zelandonyee” and saw the young man point to the meat drying on cords. The exchange ended abruptly with an imperious command from the woman. The man shot a glance at Jondalar, then motioned to a curly-haired youth. After a few words, the young man dashed away at full speed.
The two brothers were led back to their tent and their backframes were returned, but not their spears or knives. One man was always a short distance away, obviously keeping an eye on them. Food was brought to them, and, when night fell, they crawled into their tent. Thonolan was in high spirits, but Jondalar was in no mood for conversation with a brother who laughed every time he looked at him.
There was an air of expectancy in the camp when they awoke. About midmorning a large party arrived, amid shouts of greeting. Tents were set up, men, women, and children settled in, and the spartan camp of the two men began to take on aspects of a Summer Meeting. Jondalar and Thonolan watched with interest the assembly of a largestructure, circular, with straight walls covered with hides, and a domed, thatched roof. The various parts of it were preassembled, and it went up with surprising speed. Then bundles and covered baskets were carried inside.
There was a lull in activities while food was prepared. In the afternoon, a crowd began to gather around the large circular structure. The old woman’s log was brought and placed just outside the opening, and the fur robe draped over it. As soon as she appeared, the crowd quieted and formed a circle around her, leaving the place in the center open. Jondalar and Thonolan watched her speak to a man and point to them.
“Maybe she’ll want you to show off your great desire for her again.” Thonolan gibed as the man beckoned.
“They’ll have to kill me first!”
“You mean you’re not dying to bed that beauty?” Thonolan asked, feigning wide-eyed innocence. “It certainly looked that way yesterday.” He began to chuckle again. Jondalar turned and stalked off toward the group.
They were led to the center and she motioned for them to sit in front of her again.
“Zel-an-don-yee?” the old woman said to Jondalar.
“Yes,” He nodded. “I am Jondalar of the Zelandonii.”
She tapped the arm of an old man beside her.
“I … Tamen,” he said, then some words Jondalar couldn’t understand, “ … Hadumai. Long time … Tamen …” another unfamiliar word, “west … Zelandonii.”
Jondalar strained, then suddenly realized he had understood some of the man’s words. “Your name is Tamen, something about Hadumai. Long time … long time ago you … west … made a Journey? to the Zelandonii? Can you speak Zelandonii?” he asked excitedly.
“Journey, yes,” the man said. “No talk … long time.”
The old woman grabbed the man’s arm and spoke to him. He turned back to the two
Jondalar’s crimson turned to purple when, for some inexplicable reason, he felt his manhood swell. The woman cackled, and there were sniggers from the men standing nearby, but a strangely subdued note of awe as well. Thonolan burst out in loud guffaws, stomping and bending over double as tears came to his eyes. Jondalar hastily covered his offending member, feeling foolish and angry.
“Big Brother, you must really need a woman to get a rise over that old hag,” Thonolan quipped, catching his breath and wiping away a tear. Then he burst into uproarious laughter again.
“I just hope it’s your turn next,” Jondalar said, wishing he could think of some witty remark to squelch him.
The old woman signaled to the leader of the men who had stopped them, and spoke to him. A heated exchange followed. Jondalar heard the woman say “Zelandonyee” and saw the young man point to the meat drying on cords. The exchange ended abruptly with an imperious command from the woman. The man shot a glance at Jondalar, then motioned to a curly-haired youth. After a few words, the young man dashed away at full speed.
The two brothers were led back to their tent and their backframes were returned, but not their spears or knives. One man was always a short distance away, obviously keeping an eye on them. Food was brought to them, and, when night fell, they crawled into their tent. Thonolan was in high spirits, but Jondalar was in no mood for conversation with a brother who laughed every time he looked at him.
There was an air of expectancy in the camp when they awoke. About midmorning a large party arrived, amid shouts of greeting. Tents were set up, men, women, and children settled in, and the spartan camp of the two men began to take on aspects of a Summer Meeting. Jondalar and Thonolan watched with interest the assembly of a largestructure, circular, with straight walls covered with hides, and a domed, thatched roof. The various parts of it were preassembled, and it went up with surprising speed. Then bundles and covered baskets were carried inside.
There was a lull in activities while food was prepared. In the afternoon, a crowd began to gather around the large circular structure. The old woman’s log was brought and placed just outside the opening, and the fur robe draped over it. As soon as she appeared, the crowd quieted and formed a circle around her, leaving the place in the center open. Jondalar and Thonolan watched her speak to a man and point to them.
“Maybe she’ll want you to show off your great desire for her again.” Thonolan gibed as the man beckoned.
“They’ll have to kill me first!”
“You mean you’re not dying to bed that beauty?” Thonolan asked, feigning wide-eyed innocence. “It certainly looked that way yesterday.” He began to chuckle again. Jondalar turned and stalked off toward the group.
They were led to the center and she motioned for them to sit in front of her again.
“Zel-an-don-yee?” the old woman said to Jondalar.
“Yes,” He nodded. “I am Jondalar of the Zelandonii.”
She tapped the arm of an old man beside her.
“I … Tamen,” he said, then some words Jondalar couldn’t understand, “ … Hadumai. Long time … Tamen …” another unfamiliar word, “west … Zelandonii.”
Jondalar strained, then suddenly realized he had understood some of the man’s words. “Your name is Tamen, something about Hadumai. Long time … long time ago you … west … made a Journey? to the Zelandonii? Can you speak Zelandonii?” he asked excitedly.
“Journey, yes,” the man said. “No talk … long time.”
The old woman grabbed the man’s arm and spoke to him. He turned back to the two