The Plains of Passage (Earth's Children 4)
Page 70
Carlono's thoughts were diverted from consideration of her speech mannerism to appreciation of her. This woman Jondalar has brought certainly is a beauty. She suits him, he decided.
"Jondalar has told me of your boats, and about hunting sturgeon," Ayla continued.
Both men laughed, as though she had made a joke, and they looked at Jondalar, who smiled, too, although he turned slightly red.
"Did he ever tell you how he hunted half a sturgeon?" the tall young man said.
"Ayla of the Mamutoi," Jondalar interjected, "this is Markeno of the Ramudoi, the son of Carlono's hearth, and Tholie's mate."
"Welcome, Ayla of the Mamutoi," Markeno said, informally, knowing she had been greeted with the proper ritual many times. "Have you met Tholie? She will be pleased you are here. She misses her Mamutoi kin sometimes." His command of his mate's language was almost perfect.
"Yes, I've met her, and Shamio, too. She is a beautiful little girl."
Markeno beamed. "I think so, too, though one is not supposed to say that of the daughter of one's own hearth." Then he turned to the youngster. "How is Roshario, Darvo?"
"Ayla has fixed her arm," he said. "She is a healer."
"Jondalar told us she set the break properly," Carlono said, careful to be noncommittal. He would wait to see how well her arm healed.
Ayla noticed the Ramudoi leader's response, but she thought it was understandable, given the circumstances. No matter how well they liked Jondalar, she was a stranger, after all.
"Darvalo and I are going to gather some herbs I noticed on the way here, Jondalar," she said. "Roshario is still sleeping, but I want to make a drink for her when she wakes. Dolando is with her. I don't like the look of Racer's eyes, either. Later I'll look for more of those white plants to help him, but I don't want to take the time now. You might try rinsing them with cool water," she said. Then, smiling at everyone, she signaled Wolf, nodded to Darvalo, and headed for the edge of the embayment.
The view from the path at the end of the wall was no less spectacular than it had been the first time she saw it. She had to catch her breath as she looked down, but she could not resist doing it. She allowed Darvalo to lead the way and was glad she did when he showed her a shortcut he knew. The wolf explored the area around the path, busily chasing after intriguing scents, then rejoining them. The first few times Wolf suddenly reappeared, he startled the youth, but as they continued, Darvalo began to get used to his comings and goings.
The large old linden tree announced its presence long before they reached it with a rich fragrance, reminiscent of honey, and the droning hum of bees. The tree came into view around a turn in the path and revealed the source of the luscious aroma, small green-and-yellow flowers dangling from oblong, winglike bracts. The bees were so busy collecting nectar that they didn't bother with the people who disturbed them, though the woman had to shake some bees out of the blossoms they cut. The insects just flew back to the tree and found others.
"Why is this especially good for Rosh?" Darvalo asked. "People always make linden tea."
"It does taste good, doesn't it? But it's helpful, too. If you're upset, or nervous, or even angry, it can be very soothing; if you're tired, it wakes you up, lifts your spirits. It can make a headache go away and calm an upset stomach. Roshario will be feeling all of those things, because of the drink that made her go to sleep."
"I didn't know it would do all that," the youngster said, looking again at the familiar spreading tree with smooth dark brown bark, impressed that something so ordinary had qualities that made it so much more than it seemed.
"There is another tree I would like to find, Darvalo, but I don't know the name in Mamutoi," Ayla said. "It's a small tree, sometimes growing as brush. It has thorns on it, and the leaves are shaped a little like a hand with fingers. It has clusters of white flowers earlier in the summer, and about now, round red berries." "It's not a rosebush you want, is it?"
"No, but that's a good guess. The one I want usually grows bigger than a rosebush, but the flowers are smaller, and the leaves are different."
Darvalo frowned with concentration, then suddenly smiled. "I think I know what you mean, and there are some not far from here. In spring, we always pick the leaf buds and eat them when we walk by." "Yes, that sounds like the one. Can you take me to it?" Wolf was not in sight, so Ayla whistled. He appeared almost instantly, looking at her with eager anticipation. She signaled him to follow. They walked for a short while until they came to a stand of Hawthorne.
"That's exactly what I was looking for, Darvalo!" Ayla said. "I wasn't sure if my description was clear enough."
"What does this do?" he asked as they were picking berries and some leaves.
"It's for the heart, restores, strengthens it, and stimulates, makes it beat hard—but it's gentle, for a healthy heart. It's not for someone with a weak heart, who needs a strong medicine," Ayla said, trying to find words to explain so that the youngster would understand what she knew from observation and experience. She had learned from Iza in a language and
way of teaching that were difficult to translate. "It is also good to mix with other medicines. It stimulates them, makes them work better."
Darvalo was deciding that it was fun to gather stuff with Ayla. She knew all kinds of things that no one else did, and she didn't mind telling him at all. On the way back, she stopped at a dry sunny bank and cut some pleasant-smelling purple hyssop flowers. "What does that do?" he asked.
"It clears the chest, helps breathing. And this," she said, picking some soft, downy leaves of mouse-eared hawkweed that were nearby, "stimulates everything. It's stronger, and doesn't taste too good, so I'll only use a little. I want to give her something pleasant to drink, but this will clear her mind, make her feel alert."
On the way back, Ayla stopped once more, to gather a large bunch of pretty pink gillyflowers. Darvalo expected to learn more medical lore when he asked what they were for.
"Just because they smell nice, and add a sweet, spicy flavor. I'll use some for the tea, and I'll put some in water by her bed, to make her feel good. Women like pretty, nice-smelling things, Darvalo, especially when they are sick."
He decided he liked pretty, nice-smelling things, too, like Ayla. He liked the way she always called him Darvalo, and not Darvo, the way everyone else did. Not that he minded so much when Dolando or Jondalar called him that, but it was nice to hear her use his grown-up name. Her voice sounded nice, too, even if she did say some words a little funny. All it did was make you pay attention to her when she talked, and after a while think about what a nice voice she had.
There was a time when he wished more than anything that Jondalar would mate his mother and stay with the Sharamudoi. His mother's mate had died when he was young, and there had never been a man who lived with them until the tall Zelandonii man came. Jondalar had treated him like a son of his hearth—he had even begun to teach him to work the flint—and Darvalo had felt hurt when the man left.