"My sister has suffered a great sorrow," the man said. "She has lost both a daughter and a son. The girl was nearly a woman, the boy a few years younger. We all grieve."
Talut shook his head in sympathy. "It is indeed a great sorrow. We share your grief, and offer whatever solace we may. If it is within your custom, we would like to stay to add our tears to yours as they are returned to the breast of the Mother."
"Your kindness is appreciated, and will always be remembered, but there are still those among us who are sick. It may be dangerous for you to stay. It may be dangerous for you to have come."
"Talut, ask him if I can look at the ones who are still sick. I may be able to help them," Ayla said quietly.
"Yes, Talut. Ask if Ayla may look at the sick ones," Mamut added. "I think she will be able to say if it's safe for us to stay."
The man with the red face looked hard at the old man sitting on the horse. He had been amazed when he first saw the horses, but he did not want to seem overwhelmed, and he was so numbed with grief he had put his curiosity aside for the moment, while he acted as spokesman for his sister, and his Camp. But when Mamut spoke, the strange sight of a man sitting on the back of a horse was suddenly brought to his awareness with new impact.
"How does that man come to be sitting on a horse?" he finally blurted out. "Why does the horse stand still for it? And that other one, back there?"
"It is a long story," Talut said. "The man is our Mamut, and the horses answer to our Healer. When there is time, we will be happy to tell you about it, but first, Ayla would like to look at your sick ones. She may be able to help them. She will be able to tell us if the evil spirits still linger, and if she can contain them and make them harmless; whether it is safe for us to stay."
"You say she is skilled. I must believe you. If she can command the horse spirit, she must have powerful magic. Let me speak to those within."
"There is one other animal you should know about," Talut said, then turned to the woman. "Call him, Ayla."
She whistled, and even before Rydag could let him go, Wolf had wriggled free. The Sungaea man and other bystanders were startled as the young wolf came racing toward them, but even more surprised when he stopped at Ayla's feet, and looked up at her with expectation. At her signal, he dropped down to his stomach, but his alert attention focused on the strangers made them uneasy.
Tulie had been carefully observing the reactions of the Sungaea Camp and quickly realized what a powerful impression the tractable animals had made. They had enhanced the stature of the people they were associated with, and the Lion Camp as a whole. Mamut, by the simple act of sitting on the back of the horse, had garnered prestige. They watched him with wary glances, and his words had carried great authority, but the response to Ayla was even more revealing. They looked at her with awe, and a kind of fearful reverence.
The headwoman realized that she had grown accustomed to the horses, but she recalled her own apprehension the first time she had seen Ayla with her horses, and it wasn't hard to put herself in their place. She had been there when Ayla brought the tiny wolf pup to the lodge, and she had watched him grow up, but looking at Wolf as a stranger might see him, she realized he would not be seen as a puppyish young animal. He might be young but, to all appearances, he was nearly a full-grown wolf, and the horse was a mature mare. If Ayla could bend the will of high-strung horses and the spirit of independent wolves to her command, what other forces could she control? Especially when told she was the daughter of the Mammoth Hearth, and a Healer.
Tulie wondered what kind of reception they would receive when they arrived at the Summer Meeting, but she wasn't at all surprised when Ayla was invited in to examine the ailing members of the Camp. The Mamutoi settled down to wait. When Ayla came out, she went to Mamut, Talut, and Tulie.
"I think they have what Nezzie calls spring sickness, fever, and tightness in the chest, and trouble breathing, except they got it later in the season, and harder," Ayla explained. "Two older people died earlier, but it is most sad when children die. I'm not sure why they did. Young people are usually strong enough to recover from this kind of sickness. Everyone else seems to be over the worst of it. Some of them are coughing a lot, and I can help make them a little more comfortable, but no one seems seriously ill any more. I would like to fix something to help the mother. She is taking it very hard. I can't blame her. I am not absolutely certain, but I don't think it will endanger us to stay for the burial. I don't think we should stay inside their lodges, though."
"I would have suggested we set up our own tents, if we decided to stay," Tulie said. "It's hard enough for them without having strangers in their midst all the time, and they aren't even Mamutoi. Sungaea are… different."
Ayla was awakened in the morning by the sound of voices not too far from the tent. She quickly got up, dressed, and looked out. Several people were digging a long, narrow trench. Tronie and Fralie were outside, sitting near a fire nursing their babies. Ayla smiled and joined them. The smell of sage tea rose from a steaming cooking basket. She scooped out a cup and sat with the two women, sipping the hot liquid.
"Are they going to bury them today?" Fralie asked.
"I think so," Ayla said. "I don't think Talut wanted to ask outright, but I got that impression. I can't understand their language, though I can catch a few words now and then."
"They must be digging the grave. I wonder why they are making it so long?" Tronie said.
"I don't know, but I'm glad we'll be leaving soon. I know it's right for us to stay, but I don't like burials," Fralie said.
"No one does," Ayla said. "I wish we could have gotten here a few days earlier."
"You don't know if you could have done anything for those children anyway," Fralie said.
"I feel so sorry for the mother," Tronie commented. "It would be hard enough to lose one child, but to lose two at the same time… I don't know if I could stand it." She cuddled Hartal to her, but it only made the toddler squirm to get away.
"Yes. It is hard to lose a child," Ayla said. Her voice was so grim it made Fralie look, and wonder. Ayla put her cup down and got up. "I saw some wormwood growing nearby. The root makes a very strong medicine. I don't often use it, but I want to make something to calm and relax the mother, and it needs to be strong."
The Lion Camp observed or peripherally participated in various activities and ceremonies during the day, but toward evening the atmosphere changed, became charged with an intensity that caught up even the visitors. The heightened emotions evoked genuine cries of sorrow and grief from the Mamutoi when the two children were solemnly carried out of a lodge on hammocklike biers, and brought around to each person for a final farewell.
As the people who were carrying the stretchers slowly walked by the mourning visitors, Ayla noticed that the children had been clothed in beautifully made and elegantly decorated finery, as though dressed for an important festival. She could not help but be impressed and intrigued. Pieces of variously dyed and naturally colored leathers and furs had been carefully stitched together into intricate geometric patterns in making the tunics and long trousers, outlined and highlighted by solid areas that were filled in with thousands of small ivory beads. A stray thought passed through her mind. Had all the work been done using only a sharp awl? Maybe someone would appreciate the small, sharp-pointed, ivory shaft with the hole in the end.
She also noticed headbands and belts, and across the shoulders of the girl, a cape with fascinating designs that were worked into a material which appeared to have been constructed out of strands of the underwool shed by the passing woolly beasts. She wanted to touch it, examine it closely, and learn how it had been made, but it would not have been appropriate. Ranec, standing beside her, noticed it, too, and commented on the intricate pattern of right-angled spirals. Ayla hoped that before they left, she could find out more about how it was made, perhaps in exchange for one of her ivory points with a hole.