The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [160]
“This medicine will both dull the pain and make you sleep,” Ayla said, “but it is very powerful, and it is dangerous. Some people cannot tolerate this strong a dosage. It will relax your muscles, so I can feel the bones inside, but you may pass your water, or mess yourself, because those muscles will also relax. A few people stop breathing. If that happens, you will die, Roshario.”
Ayla waited for Jondalar to repeat her statement, then longer to make sure it was fully understood. Dolando was obviously upset.
“Do you have to use it? Can’t you break her arm without it?” he asked.
“No. It would be too painful, and her muscles are too tight. They will resist and make it much harder to break in the right place. I have nothing else that will dull the pain as well. I cannot rebreak and set the bones without this, but you must know the danger. She will probably live if I do nothing, Dolando.”
“But I will be useless, and live in pain,” Roshario said. “That is not living.”
“You will have pain, but that doesn’t mean you will be useless. There are remedies to ease the pain, though they may take something from you. You may not be able to think as clearly,” Ayla explained.
“So I will either be useless or mindless,” Roshario said. “If I die, will it be painless?”
“You will go to sleep and not wake up, but no one knows what may happen in your dreams. You may feel great fear or pain in your dreams. Your pain may even follow you to the next world.”
“Do you believe pain can follow someone to the next world?” Roshario asked.
Ayla shook her head. “No, I don’t think that, but I don’t know.”
“Do you think I will die if I drink that?”
“I would not offer it to you if I thought you would die. But you may have unusual dreams. It is used by some, prepared another way, to travel to other worlds, spirit worlds.”
Though Jondalar had been translating the exchange of communication, there was enough understanding between them that his words only clarified. Ayla and Roshario felt they were talking directly to each other.
“Maybe you should not take the chance, Roshario,” Dolando said. “I don’t want to lose you, too.”
She looked at the man with loving tenderness. “The Mother will call one or the other of us to Her first. Either you will lose me, or I will lose you. Nothing we do can stop that. But if She is willing to let me spend more time with you, my Dolando, I don’t want to spend it in pain, and useless. I would rather go quietly now. And you heard Ayla, it’s not likely that I will die. Even if it doesn’t work, and I’m no better off, at least I will know that I tried, and that will give me heart to go on.”
Dolando, sitting on the bed beside her, holding her good hand, looked at the woman he had shared so much of his life with. He saw the determination in her eyes. Finally he nodded. Then he looked up at Ayla.
“You have been honest. Now I must be honest. I will not hold it against you if you fail to help her, but if she dies, you must leave here quickly. I cannot be certain that I will be able to keep from blaming you, and I don’t know what I may do. Consider that before you begin.”
Jondalar, translating, knew the losses Dolando had suffered: Roshario’s son, the son of his hearth, and the child of his heart, killed just as he had reached the fall flush of his manhood; and Jetamio, the girl who had been like a daughter to Roshario and had captured Dolando’s heart as well. She had grown to fill the void left by the death of the first child after her own mother died. Her struggles to walk again, to overcome the same paralysis that had taken so many, gave her a character that endeared her to everyone, including Thonolan. It seemed so unfair that she should have been taken in the agonies of childbirth. He would understand if Dolando blamed Ayla if Roshario died, but he would kill him before he would let the man harm her. He wondered if Ayla was taking on too much.
“Ayla,