by Jean M. Auel
Ayla hoped she had enough of the heart stimulant made from the digitalis foxglove leaves to last until someone could go to get some, but wished even more that she had the rest of her own preparation with her. She wasn’t sure of someone else’s methods. She was always very careful to dry the large, fuzzy leaves slowly, in a cool, dark place out of the sun, to retain as much of the active principle as possible. In fact, she wished she had all her carefully prepared herbal medicines, but they were still stored in her small cave in the valley.
Just as Iza had done, Ayla always carried her otter skin medicine bag which contained certain roots and barks, leaves, flowers, fruits, and seeds. But that was little more than first aid to her. She had an entire pharmacopoeia in her cave, even though she’d lived alone and had no real use for it there. It was training and habit that caused her to collect medicinal plants as they appeared with the passing seasons. It was almost as automatic as walking. She knew of many other uses for the plant life in her environment, from fibers for cordage to food, but it was the medicinal properties that interested her most. She could hardly pass a plant she knew to have healing properties without gathering it, and she knew hundreds.
She was so familiar with the vegetation that unknown plants always intrigued her. She looked for similarities to known plants, and understood categories within larger categories. She could identify related types and families, but knew well that similar appearance did not necessarily mean similar reactions, and cautiously experimented on herself, tasting and testing with knowledge and experience.
She was also careful with dosages and methods of preparation Ayla knew that an infusion, prepared by pouring boiling water over various leaves, flowers, or berries and letting it steep, extracted aromatic and volatile principles and essences. Boiling, which produced a decoction, withdrew the extractive, resinous, and bitter principles and was more effective on hard materials like barks, roots, and seeds. She knew how to withdraw the essential oils, gums, and resins of a herb, how to make poultices, plasters, tonics, syrups, ointments, or salves using fats or thickening agents. She knew how to mix ingredients, and how to strengthen or dilute as needed.
The same process of comparison that was applied to plants revealed the similarities between animals. Ayla’s knowledge of the human body and its functions was the result of a long history of drawing conclusions from trial and error, and an extensive understanding of animal anatomy derived from butchering the animals that were hunted. Their relationship to humans could be seen when accidents or injuries were sustained.
Ayla was a botanist, pharmacist, and doctor; her magic consisted of the esoteric lore passed down and improved upon by generation after generation for hundreds, thousands, perhaps millions of years of gatherers and hunters whose very existence depended on an intimate knowledge of the land on which they lived and its products.
Out of that timeless resource of unrecorded history, passed on to her through the training she had received from Iza, and aided by an inherent analytical talent and intuitive perception, Ayla could diagnose and treat most ailments and injuries. With a razor-sharp flint blade she even did minor surgical operations occasionally, but Ayla’s medicine depended more on the complex active principles of healing plants. She was skilled, and her remedies were effective, but she could not perform major surgery to correct a congenital defect of the heart.
As Ayla watched the sleeping boy who looked so much like her son, she felt a deep relief and gratitude knowing that Durc had been sound and healthy when he was born—but that did not assuage the pain of having to tell Nezzie that no medicine could make Rydag well.
Later in the afternoon, Ayla sorted through her packets and pouches of herbs to prepare the mixture she had promised Nezzie she would make. Mamut silently watched her again. There could be little doubt now of her healing skills by anyone, including Frebec, though he still might not want to admit it, or Tulie, who had not been as vocal, but who, the old man knew, had been very skeptical. Ayla appeared to be an ordinary young woman, quite attractive even to his old eyes, but he was convinced there was much more to her than anyone knew; he doubted if she even knew the full extent of her potential.
What a difficult—and fascinating—life she has led, he mused. She looks so young, but she is already much older in experience than most people will ever be. How long did she live with them? How had she become so skilled in their medicine? he wondered. He knew that such knowledge was not usually taught to one not born to it, and she had been an outsider, more than most people could ever understand. Then there was her unexpected talent for Searching. What other talents might lie untapped? What knowledge not yet used? What secrets unrevealed?
Her strength comes out in a crisis; he remembered how Ayla had given orders to Tulie, and Talut. Even me, he thought with a smile, and no one objected. Leadership comes to her naturally. What adversity has tested her to give her such presence so young? The Mother has plans for her, I’m sure of it, but what about the young man, Jondalar? He is certainly well favored, but his gifts are not extraordinary. What is Her purpose for him?
She was putting the balance of her packages of herbs away when Mamut suddenly looked more closely at her otter skin medicine bag. It was familiar. He could close his eyes and almost see one so similar that it brought back a flood of memories.
“Ayla, may I see that?” he asked, wanting to see it more closely.
“This? My medicine bag?” she queried.
“I’ve always wondered how they were made.”
Ayla handed him the unusual pouch, noticing the arthritic bumps in his long, thin, old hands.
The ancient shaman examined it carefully. It showed signs of wear; she’d had it for some time. It had been made, not by sewing or attaching pieces together, but from the skin of a single animal. Rather than slitting the otter’s belly, which was the usual way to skin an animal, only the throat had been cut, leaving the head attached by a strip at the back. The bones and insides were drawn out through the neck and the brain case was drained, leaving it somewhat flattened. The entire skin was then cured and small holes had been cut at intervals around the neck with a stone awl for a cord to be threaded through as a drawstring. The result was a pouch of sleek, waterproof otter fur with the feet and tail still intact, and the head used as a cover flap.
Mamut gave it back to her. “Did you make that?”
“No. Iza make. She was medicine woman of Brun’s clan, my … mother. She teach me since little girl, where plants grow, how to make medicine, how to use. She was sick, not go to Clan Gathering. Brun need medicine woman. Uba too young, I am only one.”
Mamut nodded with understanding, then he looked at her sharply. “What was the name you said just now?”
“My mother? Iza?”
“No, the other one.”
Ayla thought for a moment. “Uba?”
“Who is Uba?”
“Uba is … sister. Not true sister, but like sister to me. She is daughter of Iza. Now she is medicine woman … and mother of …”
“Is that a common name?” Mamut interrupted in a voice that carried an edge of excitement.
“No … I do not think … Creb name Uba. Mother of Iza’s mother had same name. Creb and Iza had same mother.”
“Creb! Tell me, Ayla, this Creb, did he have a bad arm and walk with a limp?”
“Yes,” Ayla replied, puzzled. How could Mamut know?
“And was there another brother? Younger, but strong and healthy?”
Ayla frowned in the face of Mamut’s eager questions. “Yes. Brun. He was leader.”
“Great Mother! I can’t believe it! Now I understand.”
“I do not understand,” Ayla said.
“Ayla, come, sit down. I want to tell you a story.”
He led her to a place by the hearth near his bed. He perched on the edge of the platform, while she sat on a mat on the floor and looked up expectantly.
“Once, many, many years ago, when I was a very young man, I had a strange adventure that
changed my life,” Mamut began. Ayla felt a sudden, eerie tingling just under her skin and had a feeling that she almost knew what he was going to say.
“Manuv and I are from the same Camp. The man his mother chose for a mate was my cousin. We grew up together, and as youngsters do, we talked about making a Journey together, but the summer we were going to go, he got sick. Very sick. I was anxious to start, we’d been planning the trip for years and I kept hoping he’d get better, but the sickness lingered. Finally, near the end of the summer I decided to Journey alone. Everyone advised against it, but I was restless.
“We had planned to skirt Beran Sea and then follow the eastern shore of the big Southern Sea, much the way Wymez did. But it was so late in the season I decided to take a short cut across the peninsula and the eastern connection to the mountains.”
Ayla nodded. Brun’s clan had used that route to the Clan Gathering.
“I didn’t tell anyone my plan. It was flathead country, and I knew I’d get a lot of objections. I thought if I was careful I could avoid any contact, but I didn’t count on the accident. I’m still not sure how it happened. I was walking along a high bank of a river, almost a cliff, and the next thing I knew I slipped and fell down it. I must have been unconscious for a while. It was late afternoon when I came to. My head hurt and was none too clear, but worse was my arm. The bone was dislocated and broken, and I was in great pain.
“I stumbled along the river for a while, not sure where I was going. I’d lost my pack and didn’t even think to look for it. I don’t know how long I walked, but it was almost dark when I finally noticed a fire. I didn’t consider that I was on the peninsula. When I saw some people near it, I headed for it.
“I can imagine their surprise when I stumbled into their midst, but by then I was so delirious I didn’t know where I was. My surprise came later. I woke up in unfamiliar surroundings, with no idea how I had gotten there. When I discovered a poultice on my head and my arm in a sling, I remembered falling, and thought how lucky I was to have been found by a Camp with a good Healer, then the woman appeared. Perhaps you can imagine, Ayla, how shocked I was to discover I was in the Camp of a clan.”
Ayla was feeling shocked herself. “You! You are man with broken arm? You know Creb and Brun?” Ayla said in stunned disbelief. A rush of feeling overwhelmed her and tears squeezed out of the corners of her eyes. It was like a message from her past.
“You have heard of me?”
“Iza told me, before she is born, her mother’s mother heal man with broken arm. Man of the Others. Creb tell me, too. He said Brun let me stay with clan because he learn from that man—from you, Mamut—Others are men, too.” Ayla stopped, stared at the white hair, the wrinkled old face, of the venerable old man. “Iza walk in spirit world now. She was not bom when you come … and Creb … he was boy, not yet chosen by Ursus. Creb was old man when he die … how can you still live?”
“I have wondered myself why the Mother chose to grant me so many seasons. I think She has just given me an answer.”
13
“Talut? Talut, are you asleep?” Nezzie whispered in the big headman’s ear as she shook him.
“Huh? Wha’s wrong?” he said, coming abruptly awake.
“Shhh. Don’t wake everybody. Talut, we can’t let Ayla go now. Who will take care of Rydag the next time? I think we should adopt her, make her part of our family, make her Mamutoi.”
He looked up and saw her eyes glistening a reflection of the red coals of the banked fire. “I know you care for the boy, Nezzie. I do, too. But is your love for him a reason to make a stranger one of us? What would I say to the Councils?”
“It’s not just Rydag. She is a Healer. A good Healer. Do the Mamutoi have so many Healers that we can afford to let such a good one go? Look what has happened in just a few days. She saved Nuvie from choking to death … I know Tulie said that could just have been a technique she learned, but your sister can’t say that about Rydag. Ayla knew what she was doing. That was Healing medicine. She’s right about Fralie, too. Even I can see this pregnancy is hard on her, and all that fighting and arguing isn’t helping. And what about your headache?”
Talut grinned. “That was more than Healing magic; that was amazing!”
“Shhhh! You’ll wake the whole lodge up. Ayla is more than a Healer. Mamut says she’s an untrained Searcher, too. And look at her way with animals, I wouldn’t doubt if she isn’t a Caller besides. Think what a benefit that would be to a Camp if it turns out that she can not only Search out animals to hunt, but Call them to her?”
“You don’t know that, Nezzie. You’re just guessing.”
“Well, I don’t have to guess about her skill with those weapons. You know she’d bring a good Bride Price if she were Mamutoi, Talut. With everything she has to offer, tell me what you think she’d be worth as the daughter of your hearth?”
“Hmmm. If she were Mamutoi, and the daughter of the Lion Hearth … But she may not want to become Mamutoi, Nezzie. What about the young man, Jondalar? It’s obvious that there is strong feeling between them.”
Nezzie had been thinking about it for some time and she was ready. “Ask him too.”
“Both of them!” Talut exploded, sitting up.
“Hush! Keep your voice down!”
“But he has people. He says he’s Zel … Zel … whatever it is.”
“Zelandonii,” Nezzie whispered. “But his people live a long way from here. Why should he want to make such a long trip back if he can find a home with us? You could ask him, anyway, Talut. That weapon he invented ought to be reason enough to satisfy-the Councils. And Wymez says he is an expert toolmaker. If my brother gives him a recommendation, you know the Councils won’t refuse.”
“That’s true … but, Nezzie,” Talut said, lying down again, “how do you know they will want to stay?”
“I don’t know, but you can ask, can’t you?”
It was midmorning when Talut stepped out of the longhouse, and noticed Ayla and Jondalar leading the horses away from the Camp. There was no snow, but early morning hoarfrost still lingered in patches of crystal white, and their heads were wreathed in steam with each breath. Static crinkled in the dry freezing air. The woman and man were dressed for the cold in fur parkas with hoods pulled tight around their faces, and fur leggings which were tucked into footwear that was wrapped around the lower edge of the trousers and tied.
“Jondalar! Ayla! Are you leaving?” he called, hurrying to catch up with them.
Ayla nodded an affirmative reply, which made Talut lose his smile, but Jondalar explained, “We’re just going to give the horses some exercise. We’ll be back after noon.”
He neglected to mention that they were also looking for some privacy, a place to be alone for a while to discuss, without interruption, whether to go back to Ayla’s valley. Or rather, in Jondalar’s mind, to talk Ayla out of wanting to go.
“Good. I’d like to arrange for some practice sessions with those spear-throwers, when the weather clears. I’d like to see how they work and what I could do with one,” Talut said.
“I think you might be surprised,” Jondalar replied, smiling, “at how well they work.”
“Not by themselves. I’m sure they work well for either of you, but it takes some skill, and there may not be much time for practice before spring.” Talut paused, considering.
Ayla waited, her hand on the mare’s withers, just below her short, stiff mane. A heavy fur mitten dangled by a cord out of the sleeve of her parka. The cord was drawn up through the sleeve, through a loop at the back of the neck, down the other sleeve, and attached to the other mitten. With the cord attached to them, if the dexterity of a bare hand was needed, the mittens could be pulled off quickly, without fear of losing them. In a land of such deep cold and strong winds, a lost mitten could mean a lost hand, or a lost life. The young horse was snorting and prancing with excitement, and bumped against Jondalar impatiently. They seemed anxious to be on their way, and were waiting for him to finish
only out of courtesy, Talut knew. He decided to plunge ahead anyway.
“Nezzie was talking to me last night, and this morning I spoke to some others. It would be helpful to have someone around to show us how to use those hunting weapons.”
“Your hospitality has been more than generous. You know I would be happy to show anyone how to use the spear-thrower. It is small enough thanks for all you have done,” Jondalar said.
Talut nodded, then went on, “Wymez tells me you are a fine flint knapper, Jondalar. The Mamutoi can always use someone who can produce good-quality tools. And Ayla has many skills that would benefit any Camp. She is not only proficient with the spear-thrower and that sling of hers—you were right”—he turned from Jondalar to Ayla—“she is a Healer. We would like you to stay.”
“I was hoping we might winter with you, Talut, and I appreciate your offer, but I’m not sure how Ayla feels about it,” Jondalar replied, smiling, feeling that Talut’s offer couldn’t have come at a better time. How could she leave now? Certainly Talut’s offer meant more than Frebec’s nastiness.
Talut continued, addressing his remarks to the young woman. “Ayla, you have no people now, and Jondalar lives far away, perhaps farther than he cares to travel if he can find a home here. We would like you both to stay, not only through the winter, but always. I invite you to become one of us, and I speak for more than myself. Tulie and Barzec would be willing to adopt Jondalar to the Aurochs Hearth, and Nezzie and I want you to become a daughter of the Lion Hearth. Since Tulie is headwoman, and I am headman, that would give you a high standing among the Mamutoi.”
“You mean, you want to adopt us? You want us to become Mamutoi?” Jondalar blurted, a little stunned, and flushed with surprise.
“You want me? You want adopt me?” Ayla asked. She had been listening to the conversation, frowning with concentration, not entirely sure she believed what she was hearing. “You want make Ayla of No People, Ayla of the Mamutoi?”