The Plains of Passage

  Ayla was stunned, too. Dolando's virulent reaction was so completely unexpected that she was at a loss. She saw Roshario attempting to get up, trying to push aside the wolf, who was standing defensively in front of her, as confused as everyone else by the commotion, but determined to protect the woman he saw as his charge. She should not get up, Ayla thought, hurrying toward the woman.

  "Get away from my woman. I don't want her tainted with your filth," Dolando shouted, struggling to free himself from the men trying to hold him back.

  Ayla stopped. Though she wanted to help Roshario, she didn't want to cause more trouble with Dolando. What is wrong with him? she wondered. Then she noticed that Wolf looked ready to attack, and she signaled him to come to her. That was the last thing she needed, for the wolf to cause anyone harm. Wolf was obviously struggling with himself. He wanted either to stand his ground or jump into the fray, but he did not want to back away from it; yet everything was confusing. Ayla's second signal was accompanied by her whistle, and that decided him. He ran to her, then stood defensively in front of her.

  Though he spoke Sharamudoi, Ayla was aware that Dolando had been shouting about flatheads and directing angry words at her, but the meaning had not been entirely clear. While she was waiting there with the wolf, suddenly she got a clear sense of his ravings and began to feel angry herself. The people of the Clan were not filthy murderers. Why was he so enraged by the thought of them?

  Roshario had gotten up and was trying to approach the struggling men. Tholie gave Shamio to someone nearby and ran to help her.

  "Dolando! Dolando, stop it!" Roshario said. Her voice seemed to reach him; his struggles eased, though the three men still held him.

  Dolando looked angrily at Jondalar. "Why did you bring her here?"

  "Dolando, what's wrong with you? Look at me!" Roshario said. "What would have happened if he hadn't? Ayla was not the one who killed Doraldo."

  He looked at Roshario and for the first time seemed to see the weak, drawn woman with her arm in a sling. A quick spasm shook him, and, like shedding water, the irrational fury left him. "Roshario, you shouldn't be up," he said, reaching for her, but he found himself restrained. "You can let me go," he said to Jondalar with a voice of cold anger.

  The Zelandonii man dropped his hold. Markeno and Carlono waited until they were sure he was not struggling before they released him, but they stayed nearby, just in case.

  "Dolando, you have no call to be angry with Jondalar," Roshario said. "He brought Ayla because I needed her. Everyone is upset, Dolando. Come and sit down and show them you are all right."

  She saw a stubborn look in Dolando's eye, but he went with her back to the bench and sat beside her. A woman brought them both some tea, then walked over to the place where Ayla, Jondalar, Carlono, and Markeno were standing, along with Wolf.

  "Would you like tea or a little wine?" she asked.

  "You wouldn't happen to have some of that wonderful bilberry wine, Carolio?" he said. Ayla noticed her resemblance to both Carlono and Markeno.

  "The new wine isn't ready, but there might be some left from last year. For you, too?" she said to Ayla.

  "Yes, if Jondalar wants, I will try it. I don't think we meet," she added.

  "No," the woman said, as Jondalar was getting ready to jump in and make the introductions. "We don't need to be formal. We all know who you are, Ayla. I am Carolio, that one's sister." She indicated Carlono.

  "I see the ... likeness," Ayla said, searching for the word, and Jondalar suddenly realized she was speaking Sharamudoi. He looked at her in wonder. How did she learn it so fast?

  "I hope you can overlook Dolando's outburst," Carolio said. "The son of his hearth, Roshario's son, was killed by flatheads, and he hates all of them. Doraldo was a young man, a few years older than Darvo, and full of high spirits, just beginning his life. It was very hard on Dolando. He has never quite gotten over it."

  Ayla nodded, but frowned. It was not usual for the Clan to kill the Others. What had the young man done? she wondered. She saw Roshario motioning to her. Though Dolando's glare was not welcoming, she hurried toward the woman.

  "You are tired?" she asked. "Is time you go to bed? Are you feeling pain?"

  "A little. Not much. I'll go to bed soon, but not yet. I want to tell you how sorry I am. I had a son..."

  "Carolio told me. She said he was killed."

  "Flatheads..." Dolando mumbled under his breath.

  "We may have all jumped to some conclusions," Roshario said. "You said you lived with ... some people on the peninsula?" There was suddenly absolute silence.

  "Yes," Ayla said. Then she looked at Dolando and took a deep breath. "The Clan. The ones you call flatheads, that is what they call themselves."

  "How? They don't talk," a young woman called out. Jondalar saw it was the woman sitting next to Chalono, another young man he knew. She was familiar, but her name eluded him for the moment.

  Ayla anticipated her unspoken comment. "They are not animals. They are people, and they do talk, but not with many words, though they use some. Their language is of signs and gestures."

  "Is that what you were doing?" Roshario asked. "Before you put me to sleep? I thought you were dancing with your hands."

  Ayla smiled. "I was talking to the spirit world, asking my totem spirit to help you."

  "Spirit world? Talking with hands? What nonsense!" Dolando spat.

  "Dolando," Roshario said, reaching for his hand.

  "It's true, Dolando," Jondalar said. "I even learned some of it. All of Lion Camp did. Ayla taught us so we could communicate with Rydag. Everyone was surprised to find out he could talk that way, even if he couldn't say words right. It made them realize he was not an animal."

  "You mean the boy Nezzie took in?" Tholie said.

  "Boy? Are you talking about that abomination of mixed spirits that we heard some crazy Mamutoi woman took in?"

  Ayla's chin went up. She was getting angry now. "Rydag was a child," she said. "He may have come from mixed spirits, but how can you blame a child for who he is? He didn't choose to be born that way. Don't you say it's the Mother who chooses the spirits? Then he was just as much a child of the Mother as anyone. What right do you have to call him an abomination?"

  Ayla was glaring at Dolando, and everyone was staring at both of them, surprised at Ayla's defense, and wondering what Dolando's reaction would be. He looked as surprised as the others.

  "And Nezzie is not crazy. She is a warm, kind, loving woman who took in an orphan child, and she didn't care what anyone thought," Ayla continued. "She was like Iza, the woman who took me in when I had no one, even though I was different, one of the Others."

  "Flatheads killed the son of my hearth!" Dolando said.

  "That may be, but it is not usual. The Clan would rather avoid the Others—that's how they think of people like us." Ayla paused, then she looked at the man who still suffered such anguish. "It is hard to lose a child, Dolando, but let me tell you about someone else who lost a child. She was a woman I met when many of the clans gathered—it was like a Summer Meeting, but they don't meet as often. She and some other women were out collecting food when suddenly several men came upon them, men of the Others. One of them grabbed her, to force her to have what you call Pleasures."

  There were gasps among the people. Ayla was talking about a subject that was never discussed openly, though all but the very youngest had heard about it. Some mothers felt they should take their children away, but no one really wanted to leave.

  "Women of the Clan do what men wish, they don't have to be forced, but the man who grabbed the woman couldn't wait. He wouldn't even wait for her to put her baby down. He grabbed her so roughly that the baby fell, and he didn't even notice. It wasn't until afterward, when he allowed her to get up, that she found her baby's head had hit a stone when it fell. Her baby was dead."

  A few of the listeners had tears in their eyes. Jondalar spoke up. "I know those things can happen. I heard about some young men who liv
e far to the west of here who liked to make sport with flatheads, several of them ganging up to force a clan woman."

  "It happens around here, too," Chalono admitted.

  The women looked at him with surprise that he said it, and most of the men avoided looking at him altogether, except Rondo, who was looking at him as though he were a worm.

  "It's always the big thing boys talk about," Chalono said, trying to defend himself. "Not many of them do it any more, though, especially after what happened to Doral..." He stopped suddenly, glanced around, then looked down, wishing he had never opened his mouth.

  The following uneasy silence was broken when Tholie said, "Roshario, you look very tired. Don't you think it's time you went back to bed?"

  "Yes, I think I'd like to," she said.

  Jondalar and Markeno hurried to help her, and everyone else took it as a signal to get up and leave. No one cared to linger around the last of the fire talking or gaming on this night. The two young men carried the woman into the dwelling while a stricken Dolando shuffled behind.

  "Thank you, Tholie, but I think it would be better if I slept near Roshario tonight," Ayla said. "I hope Dolando won't object. She's been through so much, and she is going to have a difficult night. In fact, the next few days will not be easy. The arm is already swelling, and she will be feeling some pain. I'm not sure she should have gotten up this evening, but she was so insistent I don't think I could have stopped her. She kept saying she was feeling good, but that was because the drink that made her sleep also stops deep pain, and it hadn't entirely worn off. I gave her something else besides, but it will all wear off tonight, and I would like to be there."

  Ayla had just come into the dwelling after spending a little time currying and combing Whinney in the dying light of the sunset. It always relaxed her and made her feel better to be near and tend to the mare when she was upset. Jondalar had joined her there for a short time but had sensed that she wanted to be alone for a while, so after some pats and scratches and comforting words to the stallion, he had left them.

  "Perhaps Darvo could stay with you," Jondalar suggested now. "He would probably sleep better. It bothers him to see her suffer."

  "Of course," Markeno said. "I'll go get him. I wish I could convince Dolando to stay with us for a while, too, but I know he won't, especially after tonight. No one ever told him the full story of Doraldo's death."

  "Maybe it's best that it all finally came out. Maybe he can finally put it aside now," Tholie said. "Dolando has been nursing a real hatred toward flatheads for a long time. It seemed fairly harmless, no one really cares that much for them anyway— I'm sorry, Ayla, but it is true."

  Ayla nodded. "I know," she said.

  "And we seldom have much contact. In most ways, he's a good leader," Tholie continued, "except for anything to do with flatheads, and it's easy to work other people up about them. But such a strong hatred can't help but leave its mark. I think it's always worse on the person who does the hating."

  "I think it's time to get some rest," Markeno said. "You must be exhausted, Ayla."

  Jondalar, Markeno, and Ayla, with Wolf at her heels, walked the few steps to the next dwelling together. Markeno scratched at the entrance flap and waited. Rather than calling out, Dolando came to the entrance and pushed the flap aside, then stood in the shadows of the entrance looking at them.

  "Dolando, I think Roshario may have a hard night. I would like to stay near her," Ayla said.

  The man looked down, then inside toward the woman on the bed. "Come in," he said.

  "I want to stay with Ayla," Jondalar said. He was determined not to leave her alone with the man who had threatened and raged at her, even if he did seem to have calmed down.

  Dolando nodded and stepped aside.

  "I came to ask Darvo if he'd like to spend the night with us," Markeno said.

  "I think he should," Dolando said. "Darvo, take your bedding and go with Markeno tonight."

  The boy got up, gathered up his pads and covers in his arms, and walked toward the opening. Ayla thought he looked relieved but not happy.

  Wolf settled into his corner as soon as they entered. Ayla walked to the darkened rear to check on Roshario.

  "Do you have a lamp or a torch, Dolando? I'd like a little more light," she said.

  "And maybe some extra bedding," Jondalar added, "or should I ask Tholie for some?"

  Dolando would have preferred to be alone in the dark, but if Roshario woke up in pain, he knew the young woman would be able to help her much better than he could. From a shelf, he took down a shallow sandstone bowl that had been shaped by pecking and hitting it with another stone.

  "The bedding is over here," he said to Jondalar. "There is some fat for the lamp in the box by the door, but I'll have to start a fire to light the lamp. It went out."

  "I'll start the fire," Ayla said, "if you'll tell me where your kindling and tinder are."

  He gave her the fire-starting materials she asked for, along with a round stick, black with charcoal on one end, and a flattish piece of wood with several round holes burned out of it from starting other fires, but she didn't use those. Instead, out of a pouch hanging from her belt, she withdrew two stones. Dolando watched with curiosity as she made a small pile of the dry, light shavings of wood and, hovering closely over it, hit one stone against the other. To his surprise, a large bright spark leaped from the stones and landed on the tinder, sending up a thin column of smoke. She bent close and blew, and the tinder burst into flame.

  "How did you do that?" he asked, surprised and a little fearful. Anything so amazing, and unknown, always engendered a little fear. Was there no end to this woman's shamud magic? he wondered.

  "It comes from the firestone," Ayla said, as she added a few sticks of kindling to keep the fire going, and then larger pieces of wood.

  "Ayla discovered them when she was living in her valley," Jondalar said. "They were all over the rocky shore there, and I collected some extras. I'll show you how they work tomorrow, and give you one, so you will know what they look like. There may be some around here. As you can see, they make starting a fire much faster."

  "Where did you say the fat was?" Ayla asked.

  "In the box by the entrance. I'll get it. The wicks are there, too," Dolando said. He put a dollop of soft white tallow—fat that had been rendered in boiling water and skimmed after it cooled—into the stone bowl, stuck a twisted strand of dried lichen in it, next to the edge, then picked up a burning stick and lit it. It sputtered a bit; then a pool of oil started to form in the bottom of the bowl and was absorbed by the lichen, causing a steadier flame and more even light within the wooden structure.

  Ayla put cooking stones in the fire, then checked the level in the wooden water box. She started outside with it, but Dolando took it and went out to get more water instead. While he was gone, Ayla and Jondalar put the bedding on a sleeping platform. Then Ayla selected some dried herbs from her medicine packets to make a relaxing tea for all of them. She put other ingredients in some of her own bowls to have it ready for Roshario when she woke up. Not long after Dolando brought in the water, she gave cups of tea to each of them.

  They sat in silence, sipping the warm liquid, which was a relief to Dolando. He was afraid they would want him to make conversation, and he was in no mood for it. It wasn't a matter of mood to Ayla. She simply didn't know what to say. She had come for Roshario's sake, though she would have preferred not to be there at all. The prospect of spending the night within the dwelling of a man who had raged in anger against her was not pleasant, and she was grateful Jondalar had chosen to stay with her. Jondalar was also at a loss for words and had been waiting for someone else to say something. When no one did, he felt that silence, perhaps, was most appropriate.

  With timing that almost seemed planned, just as they were finishing their tea, Roshario began to moan and thrash about. Ayla picked up the lamp and went to her. She put it down on a wooden bench that also served as a bedside table, moving aside a
damp woven cup of spicy fragrant gillyflowers. The woman's arm was swollen and warm to the touch, even through the wrappings, which were now tighter. The light and Ayla's touch woke the woman. Her eyes, glazed with pain, focused on the medicine woman, and she tried to smile.

  "I'm glad you are awake," Ayla said. "I need to take off the sling and loosen the wrappings and splints, but you were thrashing in your sleep, and you need to keep your arm still. I'll make a fresh poultice that should lessen the swelling, but I want to make you something for the pain, first. Will you be all right for a while?"

  "Yes, you go and do what you need to. Dolando can stay and talk to me," Roshario said, looking past Ayla's shoulder to one of the men standing behind her. "Jondalar, don't you think you should help Ayla?"

  He nodded. It was obvious that she wanted to talk to Dolando in private, and he was just as happy to leave them alone. He brought in more wood for the fire, and then more water, and a few more river-smoothed, large pebbles to use for heating the liquid. One of the cooking stones had cracked when it was transferred from the hot fire to the fresh, cold water Dolando had brought in for tea. As he watched Ayla preparing her medications, he heard the low murmur of voices from the rear of the dwelling. He was glad he could not hear what they were saying. When Ayla finished treating Roshario and making her more comfortable, they were all tired and ready for sleep.

  Ayla was awakened in the morning by the delightful sound of children laughing and playing, and Wolf's wet nose. When she opened her eyes, Wolf looked toward the entrance, where the sounds were coming from. Then he looked back at her and whined.

  "You want to go out there and play with those children, don't you?" she said. He whined again.

  She lifted off her covers and sat up, noticing that Jondalar was sprawled out in sound sleep beside her. She stretched, rubbed her eyes, and glanced toward Roshario. The woman was still sleeping; she had many wakeful nights to make up for. Dolando, wrapped in a fur cover, was sleeping on the ground beside her bed. He, too, had spent many sleepless nights.