The Earth's Children Series 6-Book Bundle

by Jean M. Auel

  Dolando smiled, though it was a bit grim. “That’s what we are known for, Ayla. We use the skin of the chamois, and no one makes softer leather than the Shamudoi.”

  Jondalar watched them talking to each other with perfect understanding, even though the language they used was not exactly perfect and shook his head in wonder. Ayla must have known Dolando could understand Mamutoi, and she was already using some Sharamudoi—when had she learned the words for “plank” and “sandstone”?

  “I’ll get some after I talk to Roshario,” Dolando said.

  They approached the woman on the bed. Dolando and Jondalar explained that Ayla traveled with a wolf as a companion—they didn’t bother to mention the horses just yet—and that she wanted to bring him inside the dwelling.

  “She has complete control over the animal,” Dolando said. “He answers to her commands and will not harm anyone.”

  Jondalar shot him another look of surprise. Somehow, more had been communicated between Dolando and Ayla than he could account for.

  Roshario quickly agreed. Although she was curious, it didn’t seem at all surprising that this woman should be able to control a wolf. It only relieved her fears more. Jondalar had obviously brought a powerful Shamud who knew she needed help, just as their old Shamud had once known, many years before, that Jondalar’s brother, who had been gored by a rhinoceros, needed help. She didn’t understand how Those Who Served the Mother knew these things; they just did, and that was enough for her.

  Ayla went to the entry and called Wolf in, then brought him to meet Roshario. “His name is Wolf,” she said.

  In some way, when she looked into the eyes of the handsome wild creature, he seemed to sense her anguish and her vulnerability. He lifted one paw to the edge of her bed. Then, putting his ears down, he maneuvered his head forward, without being threatening in any way, and licked her face, whining almost as though he felt her pain. Ayla was suddenly reminded of Rydag, and the close bond that had developed between the sickly child and the growing wolf cub. Had that experience taught him to comprehend human need and suffering?

  They were all surprised at the gentle action of the wolf, but Roshario was overwhelmed. She felt that something miraculous had happened, that could only bode well. She reached over with her good arm to touch him. “Thank you, Wolf,” she said.

  Ayla laid the pieces of plank beside Roshario’s arm, then gave them to Dolando, indicating the size she wanted them to be. When Dolando went out, she led Wolf to a corner of the wooden dwelling, then checked the cooking stones again and decided they were ready. She started to take a stone out of the fire using two pieces of wood, but Jondalar appeared with a bent wood tool especially designed with enough spring to hold the hot cooking stones securely, and he showed her how to use it. As she put several stones into the cooking box to start the datura boiling, she looked at the unusual container a little more closely.

  She had never seen anything like it. The square box had been made from a single plank, bent around kerfed grooves that had been cut not quite all the way through for three of the corners; it was fastened together with pegs at the fourth. As it was bent, the square bottom was eased into a groove cut the length of the plank. Designs had been carved around the outside, and the lid with a handle fit over the top.

  These people had so many unusual things made out of wood. Ayla thought it would be interesting to see how they were made. Dolando returned then with some yellow-colored skins and gave them to her. “Will this be enough?” he asked.

  “But these are too fine,” she said. “We need soft, absorbent skins, but they don’t have to be your best.”

  Jondalar and Dolando both smiled. “These are not our best,” Dolando said. “We would never offer these in trade. There are too many imperfections in them. They are for everyday use.”

  Ayla knew something about working skins and making leather, and these were supple and smooth with an exquisitely soft feel and texture. She was very impressed and wanted to know more about them, but now was not the time. Using the knife that Jondalar had made for her, with a thin sharp flint blade mounted in an ivory handle made of mammoth tusk, she cut the chamois skin into wide strips.

  Then she opened one of her packets and poured into a small bowl a coarse powder of pounded dried spikenard roots, whose leaves rather resembled foxglove, but with yellow dandelionlike flowers instead. She added a bit of hot water from the cooking box. Since she was making a poultice to help the bone fracture mend, a little addition of datura would not hurt, and its numbing quality might help. But she also added pulverized yarrow, for its external painkilling and quick-healing properties. She fished out the stones and added more hot ones to the cooking box, to keep the decoction simmering, smelling it to check for potency.

  When she decided it had reached the proper strength, she scooped out a bowlful to let it cool, then carried it to Roshario. Dolando was sitting beside her. Then she asked Jondalar to translate exactly what she said, so there would be no misunderstanding.

  “This medicine will both dull the pain and make you sleep,” Ayla said, “but it is very powerful, and it is dangerous. Some people cannot tolerate this strong a dosage. It will relax your muscles, so I can feel the bones inside, but you may pass your water, or mess yourself, because those muscles will also relax. A few people stop breathing. If that happens, you will die, Roshario.”

  Ayla waited for Jondalar to repeat her statement, then longer to make sure it was fully understood. Dolando was obviously upset.

  “Do you have to use it? Can’t you break her arm without it?” he asked.

  “No. It would be too painful, and her muscles are too tight. They will resist and make it much harder to break in the right place. I have nothing else that will dull the pain as well. I cannot rebreak and set the bones without this, but you must know the danger. She will probably live if I do nothing, Dolando.”

  “But I will be useless, and live in pain,” Roshario said. “That is not living.”

  “You will have pain, but that doesn’t mean you will be useless. There are remedies to ease the pain, though they may take something from you. You may not be able to think as clearly,” Ayla explained.

  “So I will either be useless or mindless,” Roshario said. “If I die, will it be painless?”

  “You will go to sleep and not wake up, but no one knows what may happen in your dreams. You may feel great fear or pain in your dreams. Your pain may even follow you to the next world.”

  “Do you believe pain can follow someone to the next world?” Roshario asked.

  Ayla shook her head. “No, I don’t think that, but I don’t know.”

  “Do you think I will die if I drink that?”

  “I would not offer it to you if I thought you would die. But you may have unusual dreams. It is used by some, prepared another way, to travel to other worlds, spirit worlds.”

  Though Jondalar had been translating the exchange of communication, there was enough understanding between them that his words only clarified. Ayla and Roshario felt they were talking directly to each other.

  “Maybe you should not take the chance, Roshario,” Dolando said. “I don’t want to lose you, too.”

  She looked at the man with loving tenderness. “The Mother will call one or the other of us to Her first. Either you will lose me, or I will lose you. Nothing we do can stop that. But if She is willing to let me spend more time with you, my Dolando, I don’t want to spend it in pain, and useless. I would rather go quietly now. And you heard Ayla, it’s not likely that I will die. Even if it doesn’t work, and I’m no better off, at least I will know that I tried, and that will give me heart to go on.”

  Dolando, sitting on the bed beside her, holding her good hand, looked at the woman he had shared so much of his life with. He saw the determination in her eyes. Finally he nodded. Then he looked up at Ayla.

  “You have been honest. Now I must be honest. I will not hold it against you if you fail to help her, but if she dies, you must leave here q
uickly. I cannot be certain that I will be able to keep from blaming you, and I don’t know what I may do. Consider that before you begin.”

  Jondalar, translating, knew the losses Dolando had suffered: Roshario’s son, the son of his hearth, and the child of his heart, killed just as he had reached the full flush of his manhood; and Jetamio, the girl who had been like a daughter to Roshario and had captured Dolando’s heart as well. She had grown to fill the void left by the death of the first child after her own mother died. Her struggles to walk again, to overcome the same paralysis that had taken so many, gave her a character that endeared her to everyone, including Thonolan. It seemed so unfair that she should have been taken in the agonies of childbirth. He would understand if Dolando blamed Ayla if Roshario died, but he would kill him before he would let the man harm her. He wondered if Ayla was taking on too much.

  “Ayla, perhaps you should reconsider,” he said, speaking Zelandonii.

  “Roshario is in pain, Jondalar. I have to try to help her, if she wants me to. If she is willing to accept the risks, I can do no less. There is always risk, but I am a medicine woman; it is what I am. I cannot change anymore than Iza could.”

  She looked down at the woman lying on the bed. “I am ready, if you are, Roshario.”

  16

  Ayla bent over the woman on the bed, holding the bowl of cooling liquid. She dipped her little finger into it to check the temperature, then put it down and, gracefully lowering herself to the ground in a cross-legged position, sat quietly for a moment.

  Her thoughts were drawn back to her life with the Clan, and particularly to the training she had received from the skilled and knowledgeable medicine woman who had raised her. Iza had taken care of most ordinary illnesses and minor injuries with practical dispatch, but when she had to treat a serious problem—an especially bad hunting accident or a life-threatening illness—she asked Creb, in his capacity as Mog-ur, to call upon higher powers for their assistance. Iza was a medicine woman, but in the Clan, Creb was the magician, the holy man, who had access to the world of the spirits.

  Among the Mamutoi and, from the way Jondalar talked, apparently among his people as well, the functions of medicine woman and Mog-ur were not necessarily separated. Those who healed often interceded with the spirit world, though not all of Those Who Served the Mother were equally well versed in every capacity that was open to them. The Mamut of the Lion Camp was much more like Creb. His interest was in things of the spirit and the mind. Though he did have knowledge of certain remedies and procedures, his healing abilities were relatively undeveloped, and it often fell to Talut’s mate, Nezzie, to deal with the minor injuries and illnesses of the Camp. At the Summer Meeting, however, Ayla had met many skilled healers among the mamutii and had exchanged knowledge with them.

  But Ayla’s training had been of the practical kind. Like Iza, she was a medicine woman, a healer. She felt herself to be unknowledgeable in the ways of the spirit world, and she wished at that moment she had someone like Creb to call on. She wanted, and felt she needed, the assistance of any powers greater than herself that would be willing to help. Though Mamut had begun to train her in the understanding of the spiritual realm of the Great Mother, she was still most familiar with the spirit world she grew up with, particularly her own totem, the spirit of the Great Cave Lion.

  Though it was a Clan spirit, she knew it was powerful, and Mamut had said that the spirits of all animals, indeed all spirits, were part of the Great Earth Mother. He had even included her protective Cave Lion totem in the ceremony when she was adopted, and she knew how to ask for help from her totem. Even though she wasn’t Clan, Ayla thought, perhaps the spirit of her Cave Lion would help Roshario.

  Ayla closed her eyes and began to make the beautiful flowing motions of the most ancient, sacred, silent language of the Clan, the one known by all the clans, used to address the world of the spirits.

  “Great Cave Lion, this woman, who was chosen by the powerful totem spirit, is grateful to have been chosen. This woman is grateful for the Gifts that have been given, and most grateful for the Gifts inside, for the lessons learned and the knowledge gained.

  “Great Powerful Protector, who is known to choose males who are worthy and need great protection, but who chose this woman and marked her with the totem sign when she was only a girl, this woman is grateful. This woman knows not why the spirit of the Great Cave Lion of the Clan chose a girlchild, and one of the Others, but this woman is grateful that she was found worthy, and this woman is grateful for the protection of the great totem.

  “Great Totem Spirit, this woman who has asked before for guidance, would now ask for assistance. The Great Cave Lion guided this woman to learn the ways of a medicine woman. This woman knows healing. This woman knows remedies for illness and injury, knows teas and washes and poultices and other medicines from plants, this woman knows treatments and practices. This woman is grateful for the knowledge, and grateful for the unknown knowledge of medicine that the Totem Spirit may guide to this woman. But this woman knows not the ways of the spirit world.

  “Great Spirit of the Cave Lion, who dwells with the stars in the world of the spirits, the woman lying here is not Clan; the woman is one of the Others, as is this woman you chose, but help is asked for the woman. The woman suffers great pain, but the pain that is inside is worse. The woman would suffer the pain, but the woman fears that without both arms, the woman would be useless. The woman would be a good woman, would be a useful woman. This medicine woman would help the woman, but the help could be dangerous. This woman would ask the assistance of the spirit of the Great Cave Lion, and any spirits the Great Totem would choose, to guide this woman, and to help the woman lying here.”

  Roshario, Dolando, and Jondalar were as silent as Ayla, as she performed her unusual actions. Of the three, Jondalar was the only one who knew what she was doing, and he found himself watching the other two as much as Ayla. Though his knowledge of the Clan language was rudimentary—it was far more complex than he imagined—he did understand that she was asking for help from the spirit world.

  Jondalar simply did not see some of the finer nuances of a method of communicating that had been developed upon an entirely different basis than any verbal language. It was impossible to fully translate anyway. At best, any translation to words seemed simplistic, but he did think her graceful motions were beautiful. He recalled that there was a time when he might have been embarrassed over her actions, and he smiled to himself now at his foolishness, but he was curious about how Roshario and Dolando would interpret Ayla’s behavior.

  Dolando was perplexed and a little disturbed, since her actions were completely unfamiliar. His concern was for Roshario, and anything strange, even if it might be for a good purpose, felt slightly threatening. When Ayla was through, Dolando looked at Jondalar with a questioning expression, but the younger man only smiled.

  The injury had debilitated Roshario, leaving her weak and feverish, not enough to make her delirious, but drained and disoriented, and more open to suggestion. She had found herself focusing on the unknown woman and was strangely moved. She didn’t have the least idea what Ayla’s movements meant, but she did appreciate their flowing gracefulness. It was as though the woman were dancing with her hands, indeed with more than her hands. She evoked a subtle beauty with her motions. Her arms and shoulders, even her body, seemed integral parts of her dancing hands, responding to some internal rhythm that had a definite purpose. Though she didn’t understand it anymore than she understood how Ayla had known she needed her help, Roshario was certain it was important, and that it had something to do with her calling. She was Shamud; that was sufficient. She had knowledge beyond the ken of ordinary people, and anything that seemed mysterious only added to her credibility.

  Ayla picked up the cup and got up on her knees beside the bed. She tested the liquid again with her smallest finger, then smiled at Roshario.

  “May the Great Mother of All watch over you, Roshario,” Ayla said, then lifti
ng the woman’s head and shoulders up enough for her to drink comfortably, she held the small bowl to the woman’s mouth. It was a bitter, rather foetid brew, and Roshario made a face, but Ayla encouraged her to drink more until she finally consumed the entire bowlful. Ayla lowered her back down gently and smiled again to reassure the injured woman, but she was already watching for telltale signs of its effect.

  “Let me know when you feel sleepy,” Ayla said, although it would just confirm other indications she was noting, such as changes in the size of her pupils, the depth of her breathing.

  The medicine woman could not have said that she had administered a drug that inhibited the parasympathetic nervous system and paralyzed the nerve endings, but she could detect the effects, and she had enough experience to know if they were appropriate. When Ayla noticed Roshario’s eyelids drooping sleepily, she felt her chest and her stomach, to monitor the relaxation of the smooth muscles of her alimentary tract, though she would not have described it that way, and watched her breathing closely to note the response of her lungs and bronchial tree. When she was sure the woman was sleeping comfortably, and in no apparent danger, Ayla stood up.

  “Dolando, it is best that you leave now. Jondalar will stay and help me,” she said in a firm though quiet voice, but her assured and competent manner gave her authority.

  The leader started to object, but he recalled that Shamud never allowed close loved ones around, either, simply refusing to help in any way until the person left. Perhaps that was how all of them were, Dolando thought, as he took a long look at the sleeping woman, then left the dwelling.

  Jondalar had watched Ayla take command in similar situations before. She seemed to forget herself entirely in her concentration on an ailing or suffering person, and without thought directed others to do whatever was necessary. It did not occur to her to question her prerogative to aid someone who needed her help, and as a result no one questioned her.