THE SHELTERS OF STONE

Zelandoni Who Was First stood up. "It is the zelandonia who keep the History of the people." She looked at the zelandonia-in-training, the acolytes, but Ayla felt that Zelandoni seemed to make a special point of including her.

"Part of an acolyte's training is the memorization of the Elder Legends and the Histories. They explain who the Zelandonii are and where the People come from. Memorizing also helps one to learn, and there are many things an acolyte must learn. Let us finish this gather with Her Legend, the Mother's Song."

She paused and her eyes seemed to look inward, dredging up from the recesses of her own mind a story that she had committed to memory long ago. It was the most important of all the Elder Legends, because it was the one that told of the beginnings. To make the legends easy to remember, they were told in rhyme and meter, and to make the stories that were required to be memorized even easier to recall, melody was often added by those who had the talent to compose music, which other people enjoyed learning. Some of the songs were ancient and so familiar that the sound of the melody was often enough to recall the story.

Zelandoni Who Was First, however, had created a melody of her own composition for the Mother's Song, and many people were starting to learn it. She began to sing, a cappella, in a pure, strong, beautiful voice.

"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 Mother was lonely. She was the only."

Ayla felt a chill of recognition as the First began and joined in with the rest when they spoke or sang the last line in unison with the One Who Was First.

"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."

"Around Her he'd hover. Her pale shining lover."

Ayla remembered the last line of the second verse, too, and said it with the others, but then she listened through several more verses, trying to hear the words, saying what she remembered under her breath. She wanted to memorize it exactly because she loved this story, and she loved the way the First sang it. Just the sound of her voice almost brought tears to her eyes. Though she knew she would never learn to sing it, she wanted to learn the words. She had learned the Losadunai version on their Journey, but the language, the meter, and some of the story were different. She wanted to learn the story in Zelandonii and listened carefully.

"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."

"The Mother was giving. Another was living."

Jondalar had repeated a few lines to her while they were traveling, but she had never heard anything like the resonance and full dramatic power with which the First Among Those Who Served The Mother brought to it. His words had not been exactly the same, either.

"Her gushing birth waters filled rivers and seas,

And flooded the land, giving rise to the trees.

From each precious drop more grass and leaves grew,

And lush verdant plants made all the Earth new."

"Her waters were flowing. New green was growing."

"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."

"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."

"His life had begun. She nourished Her son ."

This was one of the parts she especially loved. It reminded her of her own experience, especially the part about it being all worth it because of her great joy, her wonderful boy.

"He stole from Her side as the Great Mother slept,

While out of the dark swirling void chaos crept.

With tempting inducements the darkness beguiled.

Deceived by the whirlwind, chaos captured Her child."

"The dark took Her son. The young brilliant one."

Just as Broud had taken her son. Zelandoni told the story so well, Ayla found herself feeling anxious for both the Mother and Her son. She was leaning forward, not wanting to miss a word.

"And Her luminous friend was prepared to contest,