Mammoth Hunters (31 page)

Barzec and Tornec came out of the lodge, followed by Danug and Druwez. They motioned morning greetings to Nezzie in the way Ayla had shown them; it was becoming customary with the Lion Camp, and Nezzie encouraged it. Rydag came out next, motioned his greeting and smiled at her. She motioned and smiled back, but when she hugged him, her smile faded. Rydag didn’t look well. He was puffy and pale and seemed more tired than usual. Perhaps he was getting sick.

“Jondalar! There you are,” Barzec said. “I’ve made one of those throwers. We were going to try it out up on the steppes. I told Tornec a little exercise would help him get over his headache from drinking too much last night. Care to come along?”

Jondalar glanced at Ayla. It wasn’t likely they were going to get anything resolved this morning, and Racer seemed to be quite content to have Latie giving him attention.

“All right. I’ll get mine,” Jondalar said.

While they waited, Ayla noticed that both Danug and Druwez seemed to be avoiding Latie’s efforts to get their attention, though the gangly, red-haired young man smiled shyly at her. Latie watched after her brother and her cousin with unhappy eyes when they left with the men.

“They could have asked me to go along,” she mumbled under her breath, then turned determinedly back to brushing Racer.

“You want learn spear-thrower, Latie?” Ayla asked, remembering early days when she watched after departing hunters wishing she could go along.

“They could have asked me. I always beat Druwez at Hoops and Darts, but they wouldn’t even look at me,” Latie said.

“I will show, if you want, Latie. After horses brushed,” Ayla said.

Latie looked up at Ayla. She remembered the woman’s surprising demonstrations with the spear-thrower and sling, and had noticed Danug smiling at her. Then a thought occurred to her. Ayla didn’t try to call attention to herself, she
just went ahead and did what she wanted to do, but she was so good at what she did, people had to pay attention to her.

“I would like you to show me, Ayla,” she said. Then, after a pause, she asked, “How did you get so good? I mean with the spear-thrower and the sling?”

Ayla thought, then said, “I want to very much, and I practice … very much.”

Talut came walking up from the direction of the river, his hair and beard wet, his eyes half closed.

“Oooh, my head,” he said with an exaggerated moan.

“Talut, why did you get your head wet? In this weather, you’ll get sick,” Nezzie said.

“I am sick. I dunked my head in cold water to try to get rid of this headache. Oooh.”

“No one forced you to drink so much. Go inside and dry off.”

Ayla looked at him with concern, a little surprised that Nezzie seemed to feel so little sympathy for him. She’d had a headache and felt a little ill when she woke up, too. Was it caused by the drink? The bouza that everyone liked so well?

Whinney lifted her head and nickered, then bumped her. The ice on the horses’ coats did not hurt them, though a big build-up could be heavy, but they enjoyed the brushing and the attention, and the mare had noticed that Ayla had paused, lost in thought.

“Whinney, stop that. You just want more attention, don’t you?” she said, using the form of communication she usually did with the horse.

Though she’d heard it before, Latie was still a little startled by the perfect imitation of Whinney’s nicker that Ayla made, and noticed the sign language now that she was more accustomed to it, though she wasn’t sure she understood the gestures.

“You can talk to horses!” the girl said.

“Whinney is friend,” Ayla said, saying the horse’s name the way Jondalar did because the people of the Camp seemed more comfortable hearing a word rather than a whinny. “For long time, only friend.” She patted the mare, then looked over the coat of the young horse and patted him. “I think enough brush. Now we get spear-thrower and go practice.”

They went into the earthlodge, passing by Talut, who was looking miserable, on their way to the fourth hearth. Ayla picked up her spear-thrower and a handful of spears, and on
her way out, noticed the leftover yarrow tea she had made for her morning headache. The dried flower umbel and brittle feathery leaves of the plant still clung to a stalk that had been growing near the teasel. Spicy and aromatic when fresh, the yarrow that had grown near the river was sapped of its potency by rain and sun, but it reminded her of some she had prepared and dried earlier. She had an upset stomach along with her headache, so she decided to use it as well as the willow bark.

Perhaps it would help Talut, she thought, though from the sound of his complaints she wondered if the preparation of ergot she made for particularly bad headaches might be better. That was very powerful medicine, though.

“Take this, Talut. For headache,” she said on the way out. He smiled weakly, and took the cup and drank it down, not really expecting much, but glad for the sympathy which no one else seemed disposed to offer.

The blond woman and girl walked up the slope together, heading for the trampled track where the contests had been held. When they reached the level ground of the steppes, they saw that the four men who had gone up earlier were practicing at one end; they headed for the opposite end. Whinney and Racer trailed along behind. Latie smiled at the dark brown horse when he nickered at her and tossed his head. Then he settled down to graze beside his dam, while Ayla showed Latie how to cast a spear.

“Hold like this,” Ayla began, holding the narrow wooden implement that was about two feet long in a horizontal position. She put the first and second fingers of her right hand into the leather loops.

“Then put spear on,” she continued, resting the shaft of a spear, perhaps six feet long, in a groove cut down the length of the implement. She fitted the hook, carved as a backstop, into the butt end of the spear, being careful not to crush the feathers. Then, holding the spear steady, she pulled back and hurled it. The long free end of the spear-thrower rose up, adding length and leverage, and the spear flew with speed and force. She gave the implement to Latie.

“Like this?” the girl said, holding the spear-thrower the way Ayla had explained. “The spear rests in this groove, and I put my fingers through the loops to hold it, and put the end against this back part.”

“Good. Now throw.”

Latie lobbed the spear a good distance. “It’s not so hard,” she said, pleased with herself.

“No. Is not hard to throw spear,” Ayla agreed. “Is hard to make spear go where you want.”

“You mean to be accurate. Like making the dart go in the hoop.”

Ayla smiled. “Yes. Need practice, to make dart go in hoop … go in the hoop.” She had noticed Frebec coming up to see what the men were doing, and it suddenly made her conscious of her speech. She still wasn’t speaking right. She needed to practice, too, she thought. But why should it matter? She wasn’t staying.

Latie practiced while Ayla coached, and they both became so involved they didn’t notice that the men had drifted in their direction and had stopped their practice to watch.

“That’s good, Latie!” Jondalar called out after she had hit her mark. “You may turn out to be better than anyone! I think these boys got tired of practicing and wanted to come and watch you instead.”

Danug and Druwez looked uncomfortable. There was some truth in Jondalar’s teasing, but Latie’s smile was radiant. “I will be better than anyone. I’m going to practice until I am,” she said.

They decided they’d had enough practicing for one day, and tromped back down to the earthlodge. As they approached the tusk archway, Talut came bursting out.

“Ayla! There you are. What was in that drink you gave me?” he asked, advancing on her.

She took a step back. “Yarrow, with some alfalfa, and a little raspberry leaf, and …”

“Nezzie! Do you hear that? Find out how she makes it. It made my headache go away! I feel like a new man!” He looked around. “Nezzie?”

“She went down to the river with Rydag,” Tulie said. “He seemed tired this morning, and Nezzie didn’t think he should go so far. But he said he wanted to go with her … or maybe, he wanted to be with her … I’m not sure of the sign. I said I’d go down and help her carry him, or the water, back. I’m just on my way.”

Tulie’s remarks caught Ayla’s attention for more than one reason. She felt some concern about the child, but more than that, she detected a distinct change in Tulie’s attitude toward
him. He was Rydag now, not just “the boy,” and she spoke about what he had said. He had become a person to her.

“Well …” Talut hesitated, surprised for a moment that Nezzie wasn’t in his immediate vicinity, then, reproaching himself for expecting her to be, he chuckled. “Will you tell me how to make it, Ayla?”

“Yes,” she said. “I will.”

He looked delighted. “If I’m going to make the bouza, then I ought to know a remedy for the morning after.

Ayla smiled. For all his size, there was something so endearing about the huge red-haired headman. She had no doubt he could be formidable if brought to anger. He was as agile and quick as he was strong, and he certainly did not lack for intelligence, but there was a gentle quality to him. He resisted anger. Though he was not averse to making a joke at someone else’s expense, he laughed as often at his own foibles. He dealt with the human problems of the people with genuine concern and his compassion extended beyond his own camp.

Suddenly a high-pitched keening pulled everyone’s attention toward the river. Her first glance sent Ayla running down the slope; several people followed behind. Nezzie was kneeling over a small figure, wailing in anguish. Tulie was standing beside her looking distraught and helpless. When Ayla arrived, she saw that Rydag was unconscious.

“Nezzie?” Ayla said, asking with her expression what had happened.

“We were walking up the slope,” Nezzie explained. “He started having trouble breathing. I decided I’d better carry him, but as I was putting down the waterbag, I heard him cry out in pain. When I looked up, he was lying there like that.”

Ayla bent down and examined Rydag carefully, putting her hand, and then her ear, to his chest, feeling his neck near the jaw. She looked at Nezzie with troubled eyes, then turned to the headwoman.

“Tulie, carry Rydag to lodge, to Mammoth Hearth. Hurry!” she commanded.

Ayla ran back up ahead and dashed through the archwavs. She rushed to the platform at the foot of her bed, and pawed through her belongings until she found an unusual pouch that had been made from a whole otter skin. She dumped its contents on the bed and searched through the pile of packets and small pouches it had contained, looking at the shape of
the container, the color and type of cord that held it closed, and the number and spacing of knots in it.

Her mind raced. It’s his heart, I know the trouble is his heart. It didn’t sound right. What should I do? I don’t know as much about the heart. No one in Brun’s clan had heart problems. I must remember what Iza explained to me. And that other medicine woman at the Clan Gathering, she had two people in her clan with heart problems. First think, Iza always said, what exactly is wrong. He’s pale and swollen up. He’s having trouble breathing, and he’s in pain. His pulse is weak. His heart must work harder, make stronger pushes. What is best to use? Datura, maybe? I don’t think so. What about hellebore? Belladonna? Henbane? Foxglove? Foxglove … leaves of foxglove. It’s so strong. It could kill him. But he will die without something strong enough to make his heart work again. Then, how much to use? Should I boil it or steep it? Oh, I wish I could remember the way Iza did. Where is my foxglove? Don’t I have any?

“Ayla, what’s wrong? She looked up to see Mamut beside her.

“It’s Rydag … his heart. They bring him. I look for … plant. Tall stem … flowers hang down … purple, red spots inside. Big leaves, feel like fur, underside. Make heart … push. You know?” Ayla felt stifled by her lack of vocabulary, but she had been more clear than she realized.

“Of course, purpurea, foxglove is another name. That’s very strong …” Mamut watched Ayla close her eyes and take a deep breath.

“Yes, but necessary. Must think, how much … Here is bag! Iza say, always keep with.”

Just then Tulie came in carrying the small boy. Ayla grabbed a fur off her bed, put it on the ground near the fire, and directed the woman to lay him down on it. Nezzie was right behind her, and everyone else crowded around.

“Nezzie, take off the parka. Open clothes. Talut, too much people here. Make room,” Ayla directed, not even realizing she was issuing commands. She opened the small leather pouch she held and sniffed the contents, and looked up at the old shaman, concerned. Then with a glance at the unconscious child, her face hardened with determination. “Mamut, need hot fire. Latie, get cooking stones, bowl of water, cup to drink.”

While Nezzie loosened his clothing, Ayla bunched up more
furs to put behind him and raise his head. Talut was making the people of the Camp stand back to give Rydag air, and Ayla working room. Latie was anxiously feeding the fire Mamut had made, trying to make the stones heat faster.

Ayla checked Rydag’s pulse; it was hard to find. She laid her ear to his chest. His breathing was shallow and raspy. He needed help. She moved back his head, to open his air passage, then clamped her mouth over his to breathe her air into his lungs, as she had done with Nuvie.

Mamut observed her for a while. She seemed too young to have much healing skill, and certainly there had been an indecisive moment, but that had passed. Now she was calm, focusing on the child, issuing orders with quiet assurance.

He nodded to himself, then sat behind the mammoth skull drum and began a measured cadence accompanied by a low chant, which, strangely, had the effect of easing some of the strain Ayla was feeling. The healing chant was quickly picked up by the rest of the Camp; it relieved their tensions to feel they were contributing in a beneficial way. Tornec and Deegie joined in with their instruments, then Ranec appeared with rings made out of ivory-that rattled. The music of drums and chanting and rattle was not loud or overpowering, but instead gently pulsing and soothing.