“And does air come out of your mouth with a loud noise in the throat, like when you burp a baby?”
“Yes, but many people belch,” Vashona said.
“That’s true, but have you spit up blood, too?” Ayla asked.
Vashona frowned. “Sometimes,” she said.
“Have you noticed blood or a dark sticky mass in your excrement?”
“Yes,” the woman said, almost in a whisper. “More lately. How did you know?”
“She knows from her examination of you,” Zelandoni interjected.
“What did you do for your pain?” Ayla asked.
“I did what everybody does for pain. I drank willow-bark tea,” Vashona said.
“And do you also drink a lot of peppermint tea?” Ayla said.
Both Vashona and Shevola, her acolyte daughter, looked at the stranger with surprise. “It’s her favorite tea,” Shevola said.
“Licorice root or anise tea would be better,” Ayla said, “and no more willow bark, either, for now. Some people think that since everybody uses it, it can’t hurt you. But too much can. It is a medici
ne, but it’s not good for everything, and should not be used too frequently.”
“Can you help her?” the acolyte asked.
“I think so. I believe I know what is wrong. It’s serious, but there are things that can help. I must tell you, though,” Ayla added, “that it could be something even more serious that is much harder to treat, although we can at least relieve some of her pain.”
Ayla caught the eye of Zelandoni, who was nodding slightly with a knowing expression on her face.
“What would you suggest for treatment, Ayla?” she asked.
Ayla looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, “Anise or licorice root to settle the stomach. I have some dried in my medicine bag. And I think I have dried sweet flag—although it is so sweet it’s almost bitter—which can stop cramping spasms, and there are plenty of dandelions around to cleanse her blood and help her insides work better. I just picked some cleavers, which can purge her body of residues of wastes, and a decoction of the woodruff I just gathered is good for stomachs, can help her feel better all over, and tastes good. I may be able to find more of those wood avens rootlets I used for flavoring the other evening. They’re especially good for stomach disorders. But what I’d really like to have is celandine; that would be most helpful. It’s a good treatment for either one of her possible problems, especially the more serious one.”
The young woman looked at Ayla with awe. The First knew she wasn’t Summer Camp’s Zelandoni’s First Acolyte. She was still new to the zelandonia and had much to learn. And Ayla could still surprise even the First with the depth of her knowledge. She turned to the young acolyte.
“Perhaps you could assist Ayla with the preparation of your mother’s medicine. It will be a way for you to learn how to make it after we leave,” Zelandoni said.
“Oh, yes. I’d like to help,” the young woman said, then looked at her mother with tenderness in her eyes. “I think this medicine will make you feel much better, mother.”
Ayla watched the fire sending flickering sparks up into the night as though trying to reach their twinkling brethren far up in the sky above. It was dark; the moon was young and had already set. No clouds obscured the dazzling display of stars that were so thick, they seemed to be strung together on skeins of light.
Jonayla was asleep in her arms. She had finished nursing some time before, but Ayla was comfortable relaxing by the fire holding her. Jondalar was sitting beside her and a little behind, and she leaned into his chest and the arm that had found its way around her. It had been a busy day and she was tired. There were only nine people of the Cave who had not gone to the Summer Meeting, six who were too sick or weak to make the long walk—she and Zelandoni had looked at all six—and three who had stayed behind to care for them. Some of those who couldn’t make the journey were nonetheless well enough to help with certain chores like cooking and gathering food. The older man Jondalar had been talking with earlier, who was staying for a while to help, had gone hunting and brought down a deer, so they put together a venison feast for their guests.
In the morning, Zelandoni took Ayla aside and told her that she had arranged for the young acolyte to show their Sacred Cave to her. “It isn’t very big, but it is very difficult. You may have to crawl through parts of it, so wear something to climb through caves and cover your knees. When I was young, I went into it once, but I don’t think I could do it now. I think the two of you will manage just fine, but it will be slow going. You are both strong young women, so it shouldn’t take too long, but because it is difficult, you might want to consider leaving your baby here.” She paused, then added, “I will watch her if you like.”
Ayla thought she detected a reluctance in Zelandoni’s voice. Taking care of babies could be tiring, and the First might have other plans. “Why don’t I ask Jondalar if he will. He likes to spend time with Jonayla.”
The two young women started out together, with the young acolyte showing the way. “Should I call you by your full title, a short version of it, or by your name?” Ayla asked after they had walked a short distance. “Different acolytes seem to have different preferences.”
“What do people call you?”
“I am Ayla. I know I’m the acolyte of the First, but I still have trouble thinking of myself that way, and ‘Ayla’ is what everyone calls me. I like it better. My name is the only thing I have left from my real mother, my original people. I don’t even know who they were. I don’t yet know what I’m going to do when I become a full Zelandoni. I know we’re supposed to leave our personal names behind, and I hope when the time comes, I’ll be ready to, but I’m not yet.”
“Some acolytes are happy to change names, some would rather not, but it all seems to work out. I think I’d like you to call me Shevola. It seems more friendly than acolyte.”
“So please call me Ayla.”