It was more than just a refuge from the winter; it promised to be safe haven from the storms of the world that had engulfed them. The Yilanè had never been here — nor had the Sasku ever heard of them; they could understand little of what had happened to the hunters since the old woman dozed and forgot to translate such complex thoughts. What was important was that they wanted the newcomers to stay close by. This had something to do with the Harwan, the dark hunters to the north, who had always been a constant bother with their raids. The barrier in the river had begun as a natural landslide, but the Sasku had been levering boulders and rocks into it for years to construct the massive barrier that now barred access to the valley from the north. The valley beyond the rockfall widened out between its high walls and contained wooded hills, flat pastureland as well. Further to the south the high rock walls closed in again, constricting the water’s flow so that the river became narrow and fierce, filled with rapids, so that no boat could pass that way. Despite these barriers the Harwan still caused trouble, coming into the valley at places where the rim was low so that the Sasku had to stay on guard at all times. None of this would happen if the sammads stayed close by; the Harwan would keep their distance then. The Sasku would be happy to supply them with food. It was an arrangement that suited everyone.
The sammads stayed in their tents by the river, for the grazing was good enough there and in the wooded highlands above. The hunting was not good, and it would have been a hungry winter had it not been for the Sasku. They were free with their food for they seemed to have an abundance of it, all grown in their fields beside the river. They asked nothing in return, though they were grateful for fresh meat after a successful hunt. If they did ask anything, it was only the privilege of seeing the mastodons, for coming close to them, for the ultimate favor of being permitted to reach out and touch their wrinkled; hairy skins.
Kerrick’s pleasure was even greater than theirs since he found every aspect of the Sasku’s life fascinating in the extreme. The other hunters took no interest at all in the Sasku, even laughing at the males who grubbed in the dirt like women. Kerrick understood the Sasku better, saw the relationship between their work in their fields and the pastured animals of the Yilanè, understanding the security that was guaranteed by a food supply that did not move about with the seasons. Since there were more hunters than game, the hunters of the sammads were pleased to see him spending so much time with the Sasku. He stayed many nights in the rock-carved rooms and in the end brought Armun and all their furs and goods to the rock chambers in the cliff. They were made welcome, the women and children gathering around in admiration of her fair looks, hesitantly touching her shoulder-length hair.
Armun proved to be very quick at picking up the language spoken by the Sasku. Kerrick went often to the old woman, Huanita, and learned some of the Sasku words from her and their way of speaking. Armun was eager to learn these as well and practiced them on the other women when he was away. They laughed and covered their mouths when she spoke, and she smiled because she knew that there was no malice in their laughter. When they finally understood what she was trying to say they would speak the words correctly, over and over for her, as though she were a child, and she would repeat after them. In a short time she was the one who was teaching Kerrick and he no longer had to rely on the old woman and her senile vagaries.
With Armun working hard to learn the new language, Kerrick could devote all of his time to investigating the fascinating activities and skills of the Sasku. He discovered that the hard bowls were really made from soft clay found in a thin layer in one particular hillside. The clay was molded and shaped while still wet, then put in an immensely hot oven to dry, an oven shaped from stones and more of the clay itself. Wood burned beneath it day and night and the heat worked a change that turned clay to stone.
Of even greater interest were the fibers they used for ropes and cord, that they wove into cloth to be made into clothing. These came from a little green plant called charadis. The seeds were not only good to eat, but when hammered and pressed produced an oil with many uses. However it was the stems of the plant that were of most value.
The charadis stalks were put into shallow ponds and heavy rocks were placed on top of them to hold them under water. After a certain time the soggy stalks were removed and dried in the sun, then beaten on stone slabs. Special wooden tools with prongs were used to rake out and separate the fibers, which the women then twisted and spun into strong lengths. Many of these lengths could be wound together to make cords and ropes, which were then knotted into nets for fishing and catching animals. Best of all, the thin lengths were stretched on wooden frames, many of them, close together. Then the women wove other threads back and forth between them to make the white fabric that Armun so greatly admired. She soon discarded her skins and furs and dressed as the other women did in the soft charadis cloth.
Armun was happy among the Sasku, happier than she had ever been in her life before. Her baby would be born soon and she was grateful that she was warm and comfortable here and not spending the winter in a cold tent. She had no desire, big as she was, to climb the barrier of stone to go back to the sammads by the river for the birth. But this was not the important reason. Her sammad was here, Kerrick her sammadar. She dated the beginning of her real life from the moment he had looked into her face and had not laughed. The Sasku did not laugh at her either, taking no notice of her divided lips at all, lost as they were in admiration of her fair skin, her hair as pale as charadis. That is what they called it, for it was almost as white as the cloth itself. She felt at home among them, talking easily now in their language, learning to spin and cook the crops that they grew. The baby would be born here.
Kerrick did not question the decision, was pleased by it if anything. The cleanliness of the stone caves, the soft luxury of the woven cloth, was far superior to the windy tents and vermin-ridden furs. Life with the Sasku was, in many ways, like the bustle of life in a Yilanè city, though he did not often make this observation consciously. He did not like to think of the Yilanè at all, and let his thoughts slip away from them whenever some chance resemblance brought them to mind. The mountains and desert were a barrier: the Yilanè could not find them here. That was the way it should be. He had responsibilities now and they took precedence over everything. The birth was the important thing. Though only to him and Armun. Another birth was of greater importance to the Sasku and it was all that they could talk about.
The mastodon cow, Dooha, was also giving birth. This would be her fourth calf so that she and the sammads accepted it as a natural occurrence.
Not so the Sasku. Kerrick was beginning to understand some of the reverence that they had for the mastodons. They knew many things about the world that the Tanu did not, in particular they knew about the spirits of the beasts and rocks, about what lay beyond the sky, where the world had come from and what the future would be like. They had special persons called manduktos who did nothing except pay attention to such matters. Sanone was first among them and led them, just as the manduktos led the rest of the Sasku. His powers were very much like that of a Yilanè eistaa. Therefore, when he sent for him Kerrick went at once to the cave. Sanone sat before the image of the mastodon and waved Kerrick to sit beside him.