The Shelters of Stone (Earth's Children 5)

“Do you have any more lamps, Lanoga?” Zelandoni asked.

“Yes, but no oil,” the girl said.

“We can tie back the drape for now. He’s right here, just inside the entrance, blocking the way,” Zelandoni said.

Ayla found the tieback attached to the drape and wrapped it around the post. When she looked inside, she was appalled at the filth. There were no paving stones and the dirt floor was muddy in places where liquid of some kind had found its way down. From the stench, she thought some of it was probably urine. It appeared that every piece of their household furnishings was strewn across the floor, tattered mats and baskets, pads with the stuffing half gone, piles of leather and woven material that might have been clothing.

Bones with most of the meat chewed off were scattered here and there. Flies buzzed around rotting food that was left out, she couldn’t guess how many days before, on plates made of wooden slabs that were so rough, there were splinters in them. In the light she saw a rat’s nest beside the entrance, containing several squirming, red, hairless newborn, their eyes still closed.

Just beyond the entrance, a skinny youth was sprawled on the ground. She had met him briefly before, but now she looked more closely. He could count perhaps twelve years, Ayla thought, and his belt indicated he was coming of age, but he was more boy than man. It was fairly obvious what had happened. Bologan was bruised and battered, and his head was covered with dried blood.

“He’s been in a fight,” Zelandoni said. “Someone dragged him home and left him here.”

Ayla bent down to check his condition. She touched the pulse in his neck and noticed more blood, then put her cheek near his mouth. She not only felt his breath, she smelled it. “He’s still breathing,” she told Zelandoni, “but he’s badly hurt, the pulsing is weak His head is injured and he has lost a lot of blood, but I don’t know if the bone is cracked. Someone must have hit him or he fell on something hard. That may be why he’s not waking up, but he smells of barma, too.”

“And I don’t know if he should be moved, but I can’t treat him here,” Zelandoni said.

The girl walked toward the entrance, carrying on her hip a thin, lethargic baby of about six months, who looked as though she hadn’t been washed since she was born. A toddler with snot running down his nose was hanging on her leg. Ayla thought she saw another child behind her, but wasn’t sure. She seems to be more mother than her mother, Ayla thought.

“Bologan all right?” Lanoga said, a worried look on her face.

“He’s alive, but he is injured. You did right to come and get me,” the donier said. Zelandoni shook her head with exasperation and a feeling of anger toward Tremeda and Laramar. “I’ll have to take care of him at my place,” she said.

Normally, only the most serious maladies were attended to in the donier’s dwelling; in a Cave as large as the Ninth, there wasn’t

room enough for all the people who were sick or injured at one time to move there. Someone with Bologan’s injuries, as serious as they were, usually would be cared for in his own home, with Zelandoni going there to treat him. But there was no one at this home to take care of him, and Zelandoni couldn’t bear the idea of even entering the place, much less spending any time there.

“Do you know where your mother is, Lanoga?”

“No,”

“Where did she go?” Zelandoni said, rephrasing her question.

“Went to the burial,” Lanoga said.

“Who is taking care of the children?”

“I am.

“But you’re not able to feed that baby,” Ayla said, shocked. “You can’t nurse.”

“I can feed her,” Lanoga said, a defensive tone in her voice. “She eats food. The milk dried up.”

“Which means Tremeda will have another baby within a year,” Zelandoni said under her breath.

“I know babies that young can eat food if they have to,” Ayla said, sympathetically, feeling a twinge of painful memory. “What do you feed her, Lanoga?”

“Mashed-up boiled roots,” she said.

“Ayla, will you go tell Joharran what happened, and ask him to come here with something to carry Bologan to my dwelling? And some help to carry him?” Zelandoni said.

“Yes, of course. I’ll be right back,” Ayla said, hurrying away.

It was late in the afternoon when Ayla left Zelandonii dwelling and hurried toward the leader’s. She had been helping the Ninth Cave’s healer and was going to tell Joharran that Bologan was awake and seemed to be coherent enough to talk.

Joharran had been waiting for her. After he left, Proleva said, “Would you like something to eat? You’ve been with Zelandoni all afternoon.” Ayla shook her head and started to go. She opened her mouth to make apologies, but Proleva quickly added, “Or maybe a cup of tea? I have some tea ready. It’s chamomile, lavender, and linden flower.”

“Well, maybe a cup, but I need to get back soon,” Ayla said. As she got out her drinking cup, she wondered if the mixture had been suggested by Zelandoni or whether Proleva realized that it was a good drink for pregnant women. It was innocuous, with only a mildly calming effect. She took a sip of the hot tea the woman ladled into her cup and savored the taste. It did have a nice flavor, and anybody could drink it, not just pregnant women.