The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [172]
He sipped it, expecting a light flowery essence, and was surprised as a subtly sweet taste rich with character and flavor filled his mouth. “This is good!” he said. “What’s in it?”
“Ask Darvalo. I think he’d be pleased to tell you.”
The man nodded, understanding her implied suggestion. “I should pay more attention to him. I’ve been so worried about Roshario, I haven’t thought of anything else, and I’m sure he’s been worried about her, too.”
Ayla smiled. She was beginning to perceive the qualities that made him the leader of this group. She liked the quickness of his mind and was fast growing to like him. Roshario made a sound, and their attention was suddenly diverted to her.
“Dolando?” she said in a weak voice.
“I’m here,” he said, and the tenderness in his voice brought a lump to Ayla’s throat. “How are you feeling?”
“A little dizzy, and I had the strangest dream,” she said.
“I have something for you to drink.” The woman made a face, remembering the last drink she had been given. “You will like this, I think. Here, smell it,” Ayla said, bringing the cup down so that the delicious aroma was near her nose. The frown faded, and the medicine woman lifted Roshario’s head and brought the cup to her lips.
“That is nice,” Roshario said after a few sips, then drank some more. She lay back when she finished it and closed her eyes, but soon opened them. “My arm! How is my arm?”
“How does it feel?” Ayla said.
“It’s a little painful, but not as much and in a different way,” she said. “Let me see it.” She craned to look at her arm, then tried to sit up.
“Let me help you,” Ayla said, propping her up.
“It’s straight! My arm looks right. You did it,” the woman said. Then tears filled her eyes as she lay back down. “Now I won’t have to be a useless old woman.”
“You may not have full use of it,” Ayla cautioned, “but it is set correctly now and has a chance to heal right.”
“Dolando, can you believe it? Everything is going to be fine now,” she sobbed, but her tears were of joy and relief.
17
Be careful now,” Ayla said, helping Roshario to ease forward toward Jondalar and Markeno, who were stooped down on either side of her beside her bed. “The sling will support your arm and hold it in place, but keep it close to you.”
“Are you sure she should get up so soon?” Dolando asked Ayla, frowning with worry.
“I’m sure,” Roshario said. “I’ve been in this bed too long as it is. I don’t want to miss Jondalar’s welcoming celebration.”
“So long as she doesn’t tire herself too much, it will probably be good for her to get up and be with everyone for a while,” Ayla said. Then she turned to Roshario. “But not too long. Rest is the best healer now.”
“I just want to see everyone being happy for a change. Every time someone came in to see me, they looked so sorry for me. I want them to know I’m going to be all right,” the woman said, easing off the bed into the waiting arms of the two young men.
“Steady now, watch the sling,” Ayla said. Roshario put her good arm around Jondalar’s neck. “All right, together, lift her up.”
With the woman between them, the two men stood up, moving forward a little so they could straighten up under the sloping roof of the dwelling. They were close to the same height, and they carried her easily. Though Jondalar was more obviously muscular, Markeno was a powerful young man. His strength was disguised by his more slender build, but rowing boats and handling the huge sturgeon the Ramudoi regularly hunted had given his flat, wiry muscles plenty of use.
“How do you feel?” Ayla asked.
“Up in the air,” Roshario said, smiling at each man in turn. “It’s a different view from up here.”
“Are you ready, then?”
“How do I look, Ayla?”
“Tholie did a good job of combing and fixing your hair; I think you look fine,” Ayla said.
“The washing you both gave me made me feel better, too. I didn’t even feel like combing or washing before. That must mean I’m better,” Roshario said.
“Some of it is the pain medicine I gave you. It will wear off. Be