Ayla gave her big pleased grin. She suddenly realized that although Folara might be every inch a tall and beautiful young woman, she hadn’t been one for too long. She’d have to ask Jondalar how many years Folara counted, but Ayla suspected that she was still quite young, probably close in age to Latie, the daughter of Nezzie, who was the mate of the Mamutoi Lion Camp’s headman.
“Of course. I’ll even take you down to meet them,” she glanced toward the low table where everyone was gathered, “maybe tomorrow, after everything is calmed down. You can go down and look at them any time you want, but don’t get too close by yourself until the horses get to know you.”
“Oh, I won’t,” Folara said.
Recalling Latie’s fascination with the horses, Ayla smiled and asked, “Would you like to ride on Whinney’s back sometime?”
“Oh! Could I?” Folara asked, breathless, her eyes open wide. At that moment, Ayla could almost see Latie in Jondalar’s sister. She had developed such a passion for the horses that Ayla had wondered if she might try to get a baby horse of her own someday.
Ayla went back to her fire-making as Folara reached for the waterbag—the waterproof stomach of some large animal. “I need to get more water. This is almost empty,” the young woman said.
The coal was still glowing, barely alive. Ayla blew on it a little more, added shavings, then the small kindling that Folara had given her, and finally a few of the larger pieces of wood. She saw the cooking stones and put several into the fire to heat. When Folara returned, the waterbag was bulging and seemed quite heavy, but the young woman was obviously used to lifting it and filled a deep wooden bowl with water, likely the one that Marthona used for making tea. Then she gave Ayla the wooden tongs with the slightly charred ends. When she felt they were hot enough, Ayla used the tongs to pick up a hot stone. It sizzled and sent up a cloud of steam when she dropped it in the water. She added a second, then fished out the first one and replaced it with a third, and then more.
Folara went to tell Zelandoni the water was nearly ready. Ayla knew she must have told her something else as well from the way the older woman’s head jerked up to look at her. Ayla watched the woman haul herself up from the low cushions, and thought of Creb, the Clan Mog-ur. He’d had a lame leg and it made it difficult for him to get up from low seats. His favorite place to relax had bee
n a bent old tree with a low branch that was just the right height to sit on and get up from easily.
The woman came into the cooking room. “I understand the water is hot.” Ayla nodded toward the steaming bowl. “And did I hear Folara correctly? She said you were going to show her how to start a fire with stones. What kind of trick is that?”
“Yes. I have some firestones. Jondalar has some, too. The only trick is learning how to use them, and it’s not hard. I’ll be happy to show you any time you would like. We had planned to, anyway.” Zelandoni looked back toward Willamar. Ayla knew she was pulled two ways.
“Not now,” the woman said under her breath, shaking her head. She measured some dried herbs into the paini of her hand from a pouch tied to a belt around her ample waist, then dropped them into the steaming water. “I wish I had brought some yarrow,” she mumbled to herself.
“I have some, if you’d like,” Ayla said.
“What?” Zelandoni said. She was concentrating on what she was doing and hadn’t really paid attention.
“I said I have some yarrow, if you want it. You said you wished you had brought some.”
“Did I? I was thinking it, but why would you have yarrow?”
“I am a medicine woman … a healer. I always have some basic medicines with me. Yarrow is one. It’s good for stomachaches, it relaxes, and it helps wounds heal clean and fast,” she said.
Zelandoni’s jaw would have dropped open if she hadn’t caught it halfway down. “You’re a healer? The woman Jondalar brought home is a healer?” She almost laughed, then closed her eyes and shook her head. “I think we are going to have to have a long talk, Ayla.”
“I would be happy to talk to you anytime,” she said, “but do you want the yarrow?”
Zelandoni thought for a moment. She can’t be One Who Serves. If she was, she would never leave her people to follow some man to his home, even if she did choose to mate. But she may know a little about herbs. A lot of people learn something about them. If she has some yarrow, why not use it? It has a distinctive enough odor so I can tell if it’s right. “Yes. I think it would be helpful, if you have some handy.”
Ayla hurried to her traveling pack, reached into a side pocket, and took out her otterskin medicine bag. This is getting very worn, she thought as she carried it back. I’m going to have to replace it soon. When she got to the cooking room, Zelandoni looked with interest at the strange container. It appeared to be made of the entire animal. She had never seen one like it, but there was something about it that seemed authentic.
The younger woman lifted the otter head flap, loosened the drawstring tie around the neck, then looked inside and withdrew a small pouch. She knew what it contained from the shade of color of the leather, the fiber of the drawstring closure, and the number and arrangement of the knots on the dangling ends. She untied the knot that closed it—it was a kind of knot that was easy to loosen if you knew how—and handed the pouch to the woman.
Zelandoni wondered how Ayla knew that she had the correct herb without smelling it, but when she brought it to her nose, she knew it was right. The donier poured a little into her palm, looked it over carefully to see if it was just leaves, or leaves and flowers, and if there was anything else in it. It appeared to be pure yarrow leaf. She added a few pinches to the wooden bowl.
“Should I add another cooking stone?” Ayla asked, wondering if she wanted an infusion or a decoction—steeped or boiled.
“No,” the donier said. “I don’t want anything too strong. He only needs a mild infusion. He’s almost over the shock. Willamar is a strong man. He’s worried about Marthona now, and I want to give some to her. I need to be careful with her medicine.”
Ayla thought she must be giving Jondalar’s mother regular doses of some medicine that she was watching carefully. “Would you like me to make some tea for everyone?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. What kind?” the older healer asked.
“Just something mild that tastes good. Some mint, or chamomile. I even have some linden flowers to sweeten it.”
“Yes, why don’t you. Some chamomile with the linden flowers would be nice, gently calming,” Zelandoni said as she turned to go.
Ayla was smiling as she removed more pouches from her medicine bag. Healing magic, she knows it! I haven’t lived near anyone who knows medicines and healing magic since I left the Clan! It’s going to be wonderful to have someone to talk to about it.