The Earth's Children Series 6-Book Bundle

by Jean M. Auel

  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.

  “You never did tell me what all that finger moving was about, Ayla,” Roshario said. “What did it mean?”

  Ayla smiled. “It means that, with luck, the chances are good that you will have full use of your arm again, or close to it.”

  “That is indeed good news,” Dolando said. He had heard her remark as he was coming into the dwelling holding one end of a drying rack. The other end was supported by Darvalo. “Will this do?”

  “Yes, and thank you for bringing it inside. Some of the plants need to dry away from the light.”

  “Carolio says our morning meal is ready,” the young man said. “She wants to know if you want to eat outside, since it’s such a nice day.”

  “Well, I would,” Roshario said, then turned to Ayla, “if you think it’s all right.”

  “Just let me put the arm in a sling, and then you can walk out, if Dolando will give you a little support,” Ayla said. The Shamudoi leader’s smile was uncharacteristically broad. “And if no one minds, I would like to take a morning swim before I eat.”

  “Are you sure this thing is a boat?” Markeno said, helping Jondalar to prop the hide-covered round frame against the wall alongside the long poles. “How do you steer this bowl?”

  “It’s not as easy to control as your boats, but it’s used mostly for crossing rivers, and the paddles work well enough to push it across. Of course with the horses, we just attached it to the pole drag and let them pull it,” Jondalar said.

  They both glanced across the field where Ayla was currying Whinney while Racer stood by. Jondalar had brushed the stallion’s coat earlier and noticed that bare spots, where hair had fallen out on the hot plains, were filling in. Ayla had treated the eyes of both horses. Now that they were in a cooler, higher elevation away from the bothersome gnats, there was obvious improvement.

  “It’s the horses that are most surprising,” Markeno said. “I never imagined they would willingly stay near people, but those two seem to enjoy it. Although I think I was more surprised by the wolf at first.”

  “You are more used to Wolf now. Ayla kept him close to her because she thought he would be more frightening to people than the horses.”

  They saw Tholie walking toward Ayla, with Shamio and Wolf running around her. “Shamio just loves him,” Markeno said. “Look at her. I ought to be afraid, that animal could tear her apart, but he’s not threatening at all. He’s playing with her.”

  “The horses can be playful, too, but you can’t imagine what it’s like to ride on the back of that stallion. You can try it, if you want, though there isn’t much room here for him to really run.”

  “That’s all right, Jondalar. I think I’ll stick to riding in boats,” Markeno said. As a man appeared at the edge of the cliff, he added, “And here comes Carlono. I think it’s time for Ayla to ride in one.”

  They all converged near the horses, then walked together toward the cliff and stood at the place where the small stream spilled over the edge into the Great Mother River below.

  “Do you really think she ought to climb down? It’s a long drop and it can be scary,” Jondalar said. “It’s even a little unsettling for me. I haven’t done it in quite a while.”

  “You said you wanted to give her a ride in a real boat, Jondalar,” Markeno said. “And she might want to see our dock.”

  “It’s not that difficult,” Tholie said. “There are footholds and ropes to hold on to. I can show her how.”

  “She doesn’t have to climb down,” Carlono said. “We can lower her in the supply basket, the same way we brought you up the first time, Jondalar.”

  “That might be best,” Jondalar said.

  “Come down with me and we’ll send it up.”

  Ayla had listened to the discussion while she was looking down at the river and the precarious path they used to descend—the path Roshario had fallen down, though she had been completely familiar with it. She saw the sturdy knotted ropes that were secured to wooden pegs driven into narrow crevices in the rock, starting at the top where they stood. Part of the steep descent was washed by the stream as it fell, splashing from rock to ledge.

  She watched Carlono step over the edge with practiced ease, grabbing a rope with one hand while his foot found the first narrow ledge. She saw Jondalar blanch a little, take a deep breath, then follow the man down, somewhat slower and more carefully. In the meantime, Markeno, with Shamio wanting to help, picked up a large coil of thick rope. The coil ended with a loop that had been woven into the end as an integral part and dropped over a heavy stake that was about midway between the walls at the edge of the embayment. The rest of the long cable was thrown over the cliff. Ayla wondered what kind of fiber they used to make their ropes. They were the heaviest cordage she had ever seen.

  Shortly afterward, Carlono came back up carrying the other end of the cable. He walked toward a second stake not far from the first, then began hauling up the rope, neatly dropping it in a coil beside him. A large, shallow, basketlike object soon appeared at the edge of the cliff between the two stakes. Full of curiosity, Ayla went to take a closer look.

  Like the ropes, the basket was extremely sturdy. The flat woven bottom, which was reinforced and stiffened with wooden planks, was shaped in a long oval with straight sides around the edge like a low fence. It was easily big enough to hold a person lying down, or a medium-size sturgeon with its head and tail over the front and back. The largest sturgeon, one of two varieties that lived only in the river and its major tributaries, reached thirty feet in length and weighed over three thousand pounds, and had to be cut into pieces to be hoisted up.

  The supply basket was slung between two ropes that were threaded through and held in place by four rings made of fiber, two attached to each long side. Each rope went down through one ring, and up through the ring that was diagonally on the opposite side, crossing underneath. The four ends of the ropes were plaited together and formed into a large heavy loop above, and the rope that had been thrown over the edge was threaded through that loop.

  “Just climb in, Ayla. We’ll ho
ld it steady and lower you down,” Markeno said, putting on a pair of close-fitting, leather mittens, then wrapping the long end once around the second stake in preparation for lowering the basket.

  When she hesitated, Tholie said, “If you’d rather just climb down, I’ll show you how. I never did like to ride the basket.”

  Ayla looked at the steep climb again. Neither way looked very inviting. “I’ll try the basket this time,” she said.

  Where the path down was located, the wall below the cliff was steep but sloped enough to make it climbable, barely; near the middle where the stakes were, the top of the cliff overhung the wall. Ayla climbed into the basket, sat down on the bottom, and held on to the edge with a white-knuckled grip.

  “Are you ready?” Carlono asked. Ayla turned her head without letting go and nodded. “Lower her down, Markeno.”

  The young man loosened his grip as Carlono guided the supply basket over the edge. While Markeno let the rope slide through his leather-covered hands, controlling the descent with the help of the twist around the stake, the loop at the top of the basket skidded along the heavy rope and Ayla, suspended in empty space over the dock, was slowly lowered.

  Their device for transporting supplies and people between the deep ledge above and the dock below was simple but effective. It depended upon muscle power, but the basket itself, though sturdy, was relatively lightweight, making it possible for even one person alone to move fairly large loads. With additional people, quite heavy ones could be moved.

  When she first dropped over the top of the cliff, Ayla shut her eyes and clung to the basket, hearing her heart pound in her ears. But as she felt herself dropping slowly, she peeked her eyes open, then looked around in open-mouthed wonder. It was a view from a perspective she had never seen before and would probably never see again.

  Hanging out over the great moving river beside the steep wall of the gorge, Ayla felt that she was floating in air. The rock wall across the river was slightly more than a mile away, but it felt very close, though in places along the Gate the walls were much closer. It was a fairly straight stretch of river and, as she looked east and then west along its length, she could feel its power. When she had nearly reached the dock, she looked up and watched a white cloud appear over the edge of the wall, and she noticed two figures—one quite small—and the wolf, looking down at her. She waved. Then she landed with a slight bump while she was still looking up.