Read The Shelters of Stone for Free Online Page A

Jondalar was looking at the woman, about the way his hands had held her shoulders? And the woman? In spite of her size, there was a seductive quality to the way she held her body. But another characteristic quickly asserted itself. As she turned to look at Ayla, she moved with a sense of assurance and composure that was a manifest sign of her authority.
    Observing small details of expression and posture for meaning was second nature to the young woman. The Clan, the people who raised her, did not speak primarily with words. They communicated with signs, gestures, and nuances of facial expression and stance. When she lived with the Mamutoi, her ability to interpret body language had evolved and expanded to include understanding the unconscious signals and gestures of those who used spoken language. Suddenly Ayla knew who the woman was, and realized something important had transpired between the man and the woman that involved her. She sensed she was facing a critical test, but she didn’t hesitate.
    “She’s the one, isn’t she, Jondalar?” Ayla said, approaching them.
    “I’m the one what?” Zelandoni said, glaring at the stranger.
    Ayla stared back at the woman without flinching. “You’re the one I must thank,” she said. “Until I met Jondalar, I didn’t understand about the Mother’s Gifts, especially Her Gift of Pleasure. I had only known pain and anger, but he was patient and gentle, and I learned to know the joy. He told me about the woman who taught him. I thank you, Zelandoni, for teaching Jondalar so he could give me Her Gift. But I am grateful to you for something much more important … and more difficult for you. Thank you for giving him up so he could find me.”
    Zelandoni was surprised, though she showed little sign of it. Ayla’s words were not at all what she expected to hear. Their eyes locked as the woman studied Ayla, searching for a sense of her depth, a perception of her feelings, an insight to the truth. The older woman’s comprehension of unconscioussignals and body language was not dissimilar to Ayla’s, though more intuitive. Her ability had developed through subliminal observation and instinctive analysis, not the expanded application of a language learned as a child, but was no less astute. Zelandoni didn’t know how she knew, she just knew.
    It took a moment before she became aware of something curious. Though the young woman seemed to be entirely fluent in Zelandomi—her command of the language was so good, she used it like one born to it—there could be no doubt she was a foreigner.
    The One Who Served was not unfamiliar with visitors who spoke with the accent of another language, but Ayla’s speech had a strangely exotic quality, unlike anything she’d ever heard. Her voice was not unpleasant, somewhat low-pitched, but a little throaty, and she had trouble with certain sounds. She recalled Jondalar’s remark about how far he had gone on his Journey, and a thought crossed Zelandoni’s mind in the few heartbeats that the two women stood confronting each other: this woman had been willing to travel a great distance to come home with him.
    Only then did she notice that the young woman’s face had a distinctly foreign look and tried to identify the difference. Ayla was attractive, but one expected that of any woman Jondalar would bring home. Her face was somewhat broader and shorter than that of Zelandomi women, but nicely proportioned, with a well-defined jaw. She was a shade taller than the older woman, and her rather dark blond hair was enhanced with sun-lightened streaks. Her clear gray-blue eyes held secrets, a strong will, but no hint of malice.
    Zelandoni nodded, and turned to Jondalar. “She’ll do.”
    He let out a breath, then looked from one to the other. “How did you know this was Zelandoni, Ayla? You haven’t been introduced yet, have you?”
    “It was not hard. You still love her, and she loves you.”
    “But … but … how…?” he