The Plains of Passage (Earth's Children 4)

Dolando noticed the unfamiliar basket; it was not made the way they made baskets.

"Ayla gave them to me," Darvalo continued. "They were picking blackberries when I met them. These were already picked."

Watching the young man, Jondalar suddenly thought of Darvalo's mother. He had not expected Serenio to be gone, and he was disappointed. He had truly loved her, in a way, and he realized that he had been looking forward to seeing her. Was she expecting a child when she left? A child of his spirit? Maybe he could ask Roshario. She would know.

"Let's bring them to her," Dolando said, nodding a silent thanks to Ayla. "I'm sure she'll like them. If you want to come in, Jondalar, I think she's awake, and I know she will want to see you. Bring Ayla, too. She will want to meet her. It's hard on her. You know how she is. Always up and busy, always the first one to greet visitors."

Jondalar translated for Ayla, and she nodded her willingness. They left the horses grazing in the field, but she signaled Wolf to stay with her. She could tell that the carnivore still bothered people. Tame horses were strange but not considered dangerous. A wolf was a hunter, capable of inflicting harm.

"Jondalar, I think it's best if Wolf stays with me for now. Will you ask Dolando if it is all right to bring him in? Tell him he's accustomed to being indoors," Ayla said, speaking Mamutoi.

Jondalar repeated her request, although Dolando had understood her, and, seeing his subtle reactions, Ayla suspected that he did. She would keep that in mind.

They walked to the back and under the sandstone shelf, past a central hearth that was obviously a gathering place, to a wooden structure that resembled a sloping tent. Ayla noticed its construction as they approached. A ridgepole was anchored in the ground at the back and supported by a pole in front. Tapered oak planks that had been split radially out of a large tree trunk were leaned against it, graduated in size from short at the back to long in front. When she got closer, she saw that the planks were fastened together with slender willow withes sewn through predrilled holes.

Dolando pushed back a yellow drape of soft leather and held it up while everyone entered. He tied it back to allow more light in. Inside, thin cracks of daylight could be seen between some of the planks, but leather skins lined the walls in places to ward off drafts, although there was not much wind within the baylike niche carved out of the mountain. There was a small fireplace near the front, with a shorter plank making a hole in the roof above it, but no rain cover. The overhang protected the dwelling from rain and snow. Along one wall toward the back was a bed, a wide wooden shelf, fastened to the wall on one side and supported by legs on the other, covered by stuffed leather padding and furs. In the dim light, Ayla could just make out a woman reclining on it.

Darvalo knelt beside the bed, holding out the berries. "Here are the blackberries I promised you, Roshario. But I didn't pick them. Ayla did."

The woman opened her eyes. She had not been sleeping, only trying to rest, but she did not know visitors had arrived. She didn't quite catch the name Darvalo had said.

"Who picked them?" she said in a weak voice.

Dolando, bent over the bed, put his hand on her forehead. "Roshario, look who's here! Jondalar has come back," he said.

"Jondalar?" she said, looking at the man who was kneeling beside her bed next to Darvalo. He almost winced at the pain he saw etched on her face. "Is it really you? Sometimes I dream and think that I see my son, or Jetamio, and then I find out it's not true. Is it you, Jondalar, or are you a dream?"

"It's not a dream, Rosh," Dolando said. Jondalar thought he saw tears in his eyes. "He's really here. He brought someone with him. A Mamutoi woman. Her name is Ayla." He beckoned her forward.

Ayla motioned Wolf to stay, and she walked toward the woman. That she was suffering great pain was immediately apparent. Her eyes were glazed and had dark circles around them, making them seem sunken; her face was flushed with fever. Even from a distance and beneath the light covering, Ayla could see that her arm, between the shoulder and elbow, was bent in a grotesque angle.

"Ayla of the Mamutoi, this is Roshario of the Sharamudoi,"

Jondalar said. Darvalo moved over and Ayla took his place beside the bed.

"In the name of the Mother, you are welcome, Ayla of the Mamutoi," Roshario said, trying to rise, then giving up and lying back again. "I am sorry I cannot greet you properly."

"In the Mother's name, I thank you," Ayla said. "There is no need for you to get up."

Jondalar translated, but Tholie had included everyone to some degree in her language instructions, and she had laid a good groundwork for understanding Mamutoi. Roshario had understood the gist of Ayla's words, and she nodded.

"Jondalar, she's in terrible pain. I'm afraid it could be very bad. I want to examine her arm," Ayla said, shifting to Zelandonii so the woman wouldn't know how serious she thought the injury was, but it did not disguise the urgency in her voice.

"Roshario, Ayla is a healer, a daughter of the Mammoth Hearth. She would like to look at your arm," Jondalar said, then looked up at Dolando to make sure he did not disapprove. The man was willing to try anything that might help, so long as Roshario agreed.

"A healer?" the woman said. "Shamud?"

"Yes, like a shamud. Can she look?"

"I'm afraid it's too late to help, but she can look."

Ayla uncovered the arm. Some attempt had obviously been made to straighten it, and the wound had been cleaned and was healing, but it was swollen and bone protruded beneath the skin at an odd angle. Ayla felt the arm, trying to be as gentle as she could. The woman winced only when she lifted the arm to feel underneath but did not complain. She knew her examination was painful, but she needed to feel the bone under the skin. Ayla looked at Roshario's eyes, smelled her exhalations, felt the pulse in her neck and in her wrist, then sat back on her heels.

"It's healing, but it's not properly set. She may eventually

recover, but I don't think she will have the use of that arm, or her hand, the way it is, and it will always cause her some pain," Ayla said, speaking the language they all understood to some extent. She waited for Jondalar to translate.

"Can you do anything?" Jondalar asked.