Plains of Passage (53 page)

She’d had some of the roots with her when she left the Clan. They were in her medicine bag in the sacred red-colored pouch, and Mamut had been very curious when she told him about them. But he didn’t have the power of The Mog-ur, or perhaps the plant affected the Others differently. She and Mamut were both drawn into the black void and almost didn’t return.

Sitting on the ground, staring at the seemingly innocuous plant that
could be made into something so powerful, she recalled the experience. Suddenly she shivered with another chill and sensed a shadow of darkness, as though a cloud were passing overhead, and then she wasn’t just remembering, she was reliving that strange Journey with Mamut. The green woods faded and dimmed as she felt herself drawn back into her memory of the darkened earthlodge. In the back of her throat she tasted the dark cool loam and growing fungus of ancient primeval forests. She sensed herself moving with great speed to the strange worlds she had traveled with Mamut, and she felt the terror of the black void.

Then faintly, from far away, she heard Jondalar’s voice, full of agonized fear and love, calling to her, pulling her back and Mamut as well, by the sheer strength of his love and his need. In an instant she was back, feeling chilled to the bone in the warmth of late summer sunshine.

“Jondalar brought us back!” she said aloud. At the time she hadn’t been aware of it. He was the one she had opened her eyes to, but then he was gone and Ranec was there instead bringing a hot drink to warm her. Mamut had told her that someone had helped them to return. She hadn’t realized that it was Jondalar, but suddenly she knew, almost as though she was meant to know.

The old man had said he would never use the root again and warned her against it, but he also said that if she ever did, to make sure someone was there who could call her back. He’d told her the root was more than deadly. It could steal her spirit; she could be lost in the black void forever, and would never be able to return to the Great Earth Mother. It hadn’t mattered then, anyway. She’d had no roots left. She had used the last of them with Mamut. But now, in front of her, there was the plant.

Just because it was there didn’t mean she had to take it, she thought. If she left it, she would never have to worry that she might use it again and lose her spirit. She had been told the drink was forbidden to her, anyway It was for mog-urs who dealt with the spirit world, not medicine women who were only supposed to make it for them, but she had already drunk it, twice. And besides, Broud had cursed her; as far as the Clan was concerned, she was dead. Who was there to forbid her now?

Ayla didn’t even ask herself why she was doing it when she picked up the broken branch and used it as a digging stick to carefully extract several of the plants without damaging the roots. She was one of the few people on earth who knew their properties and how to prepare them. She could not leave them. It wasn’t that she had any particular intention of using them, which in itself was not unusual. She had many preparations of plants that might never be used, but this was different.
The others had potential medicinal uses. Even the golden thread, Iza’s magic medicine to fight off impregnating essences, was good for stings and bites when applied externally, but, as far as she knew, this plant had no other use. The root was spirit magic.

   “There you are! We were beginning to worry,” Tholie called out when she saw Ayla coming down the path. “Jondalar said if you didn’t get back soon, he’d send Wolf after you.”

“Ayla, what took you so long?” Jondalar said, before she could answer. “Tholie said you were coming right back.” He had unthinkingly spoken Zelandonii, which let her know just how worried he had been.

“The path kept on going, and I decided to follow it a little farther. Then I found some plants I wanted,” Ayla said, holding up the material she had collected. “This area is so much like the place I grew up. I haven’t seen some of these since I left.”

“What was so important about those plants that you had to collect them now? What is that one for?” Jondalar said, pointing to the golden thread.

Ayla understood him well enough, now, to know that the angry tone was the result of his concern, but his question caught her by surprise. “That’s … that’s for bites … and stings,” she said, flustered, and embarrassed. It felt like a lie; even though her answer was perfectly true, it was not complete.

Ayla had been raised as a woman of the Clan, and Clan women could not refuse to answer a direct question, especially when posed by a man, but Iza had stressed very strongly never to tell anyone, particularly a man, what power the tiny golden threads held. Iza herself would not have been able to resist answering Jondalar’s question fully, but she would never have had to. No man of the Clan would consider questioning a medicine woman about her plants or practices. Iza had meant that Ayla should never volunteer the information.

It was acceptable to refrain from mentioning, but Ayla knew that the allowance was meant for courtesy and to permit some measure of privacy, and she had gone beyond that. She was deliberately withholding information. She could administer the medicine, if she felt it was appropriate, but Iza had told her that it could be dangerous if people, especially men, realized that she knew how to defeat the strongest of spirits and prevent pregnancy. It was secret knowledge meant only for medicine women.

A thought suddenly occurred to Ayla. If it could prevent Her from blessing a woman, could Iza’s magic medicine be stronger than the Mother? How could that be? But if She did create all the plants in the
first place, She must have made it on purpose! She must have meant for it to be used to help women when it would be dangerous or difficult for them to become pregnant. But then why didn’t more women know about it? Maybe they did. Since it grew so close, maybe these Sharamudoi women were familiar with it. She could ask, but would they tell her? And if they didn’t know, how could she ask without telling them? But if the Mother meant it for women, wouldn’t it be right to tell them? Ayla’s mind raced with questions, but she had no answers.

“Why did you need to get plants for bites and stings now?” Jondalar said, his concern still showing in his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Ayla said, then smiled, “it’s just that this area feels so much like home, I wanted to explore it.”

Suddenly he had to smile, too. “And you found some blackberries for breakfast, didn’t you? Now I know what took you so long. I never met anyone who loved blackberries more than you do.” He had noticed her discomfiture, but he was delighted when he thought he had discovered why she seemed so reluctant to talk about her little side trip.

“Well, yes, I did have a few. Maybe we can go back later and pick some for everyone. They are so ripe and good now. There are some other things I want to look for, too.”

“I have a feeling we’re going to have all the blackberries we could want, with you around, Ayla,” Jondalar said, kissing her purple-stained mouth.

He was so relieved that she was safe, and so pleased with himself to think that he had found her out and discovered her weakness for sweet berries, that she just smiled and let him think what he wanted. She did like blackberries, but her real weakness was him, and she suddenly felt such an overwhelming warmth of love for him that she wished they were alone. She wanted to hold him, and touch him, and Pleasure him, and feel him Pleasuring her the way he did so well. Her eyes showed her feelings, and his wonderful, exceptionally blue eyes returned them with added measure. She felt a tingling deep inside and had to turn away to settle herself.

“How is Roshario?” she said. “Is she awake yet?”

“Yes, and she says she’s hungry. Carolio came up from the dock and is fixing something for us, but we thought we should wait until you came before she ate.”

“I’ll go and see how she is, and then I’d like to take a morning swim,” Ayla said.

As she headed for the dwelling, Dolando pulled back the flap to come outside, and Wolf came bounding out. He jumped up on her, put his paws on her shoulders, and licked her jaw.

“Wolf, get down! My hands are full,” she said.

“He seems glad to see you,” Dolando said. He hesitated, then added, “I am, too, Ayla. Roshario needs you.”

It was an acknowledgment of sorts, at least an admission that he did not want her to keep away from his mate, for all his raving the night before. She had known it when he allowed her into his dwelling, but he hadn’t said it.

“Is there anything you need? Anything I can get for you?” the man asked. He had noticed her hands were full.

“I’d like to dry these plants and need a rack,” she said. “I can make one, but for that I need some wood, and thongs or sinew for lashings.”

“I may have something better. Shamud used to dry plants for his uses, and I think I know where his racks are. Would you like to use one?”

“I think that would be perfect, Dolando,” she said. He nodded and strode away as she went inside. She smiled when she saw Roshario sitting up on her bed. Putting the plants down, she went to see her.

“I didn’t know Wolf had come back in here,” Ayla said. “I hope he didn’t bother you.”

“No. He was watching out for me, I’m sure. When he first came in—he knows how to get around the flap—he came straight back here. After I patted him, he went and settled down in that corner and just looked this way. That’s his place now, you know,” Roshario said.

“Did you sleep well?” Ayla asked the woman, straightening her bed and propping her up with pads and furs to make her more comfortable.

“Better than I have since I fell. Especially after Dolando and I had a long talk,” she said. She looked at the tall blond woman, the stranger that Jondalar had brought with him, who had stirred up their life and precipitated so much change in such a short time. “He really didn’t mean what he said about you, Ayla, but he is upset. He has lived with Doraldo’s death for years, never able to really put it away. He didn’t know the full circumstances until last night. Now he’s trying to reconcile years of hatred, and violence, toward what he was convinced were vicious animals, with all that came out about them, including you.”

“How about you, Roshario? He was your son,” Ayla said.

“I hated them, too, but then Jetamio’s mother died, and we took her in. She didn’t take his place, exactly, but she was so sick and needed so much care that I didn’t have time to dwell on his death. As I came to feel as though she was my own daughter, I was able to let the memory of my son rest. Dolando grew to love Jetamio, too, but boys are special to men, especially boys born to their hearth. He couldn’t get over the loss of Doraldo, just as he had reached manhood and had his life in
front of him.” Tears were glistening in Roshario’s eyes. “Now Jetamio’s gone, too. I was almost afraid to take Darvo in, for fear he would die young.”

“It’s never easy to lose a son,” Ayla said, “or a daughter.”

Roshario thought she saw a look of pain flash across the young woman’s face as she got up and went to the fire to start preparations. When she came back, she brought her medicines in her interesting wooden bowls. The woman had never seen any quite like them. Most of their tools, utensils, and containers were decorated with carvings or paintings, or both, particularly Shamud’s. Ayla’s bowls were finely made, smooth and well-shaped, but starkly plain. There were no decorations of any kind, except for the grain of the wood itself.

“Are you feeling much pain now?” Ayla asked as she helped Roshario lie down.

“Some, but not nearly as much as before,” the woman said, as the young healer started to remove the wrappings.

“I think the swelling is down,” Ayla said, studying the arm. “That’s a good sign. I’ll put the splints and a sling back on it for now, in case you want to get up for a while. I’ll put another poultice on tonight. When there is no more swelling, I’ll wrap it in birchbark, which you should keep on until the bone is healed; at least a moon and halfway into another,” Ayla explained, as she deftly took away the damp chamois skin and looked at a spreading bruise caused by her manipulations the day before.

“Birchbark?” Roshario said.

“When it is soaked in hot water, it softens and is easy to shape and fit. It gets hard and stiff as it dries, and will hold your arm rigid so the bone will heal straight, even when you are up and moving around.”

“You mean I’ll be able to get up and do something, instead of just lying around?” Roshario said with a delighted grin.

“You will only have the use of one arm, but there’s no reason you can’t stand on both legs. It was the pain that kept you here.”

Roshario nodded. “That’s true.”

“There is one thing I want you to try before I put the wrappings back on. If you can, I want you to move your fingers; it might hurt a little.”

Ayla tried not to show her concern. If there was some internal damage that prevented Roshario from moving her fingers now, it might be an indication that she would have only limited use of that arm. They were both watching her hand intently, and both smiled with relief when she moved her middle finger up, and then the rest of them.

“That’s good!” Ayla said. “Now, can you curl your fingers?”

“I can feel that!” Roshario said as she flexed her fingers.

“Does it hurt too much to make a fist?” Ayla watched while she slowly closed her hand.

“It hurts, but I can do it.”

“That’s very good. How much can you move your hand? Can you bend it up at the wrist?”

Roshario grimaced with the effort and breathed in through her teeth, but she bent her hand forward.

“That’s enough,” Ayla said.

They both turned to look when they heard Wolf announce Jondalar’s appearance with a single bark that sounded like a hoarse cough, and smiled when he entered.

“I came to see if there is anything I can do. Do you want me to help Roshario outside?” Jondalar asked. He had glanced at Roshario’s exposed arm, then looked away quickly. The swollen, discolored thing did not look good to him.

“Nothing now, but sometime in the next few days I will need some wide strips of fresh birchbark. If you happen to see a good-size birch tree, keep it in mind so you can show me where it is. It’s to hold her arm rigid while it’s healing,” Ayla replied while she wrapped it with splints.