The shelters of stone - Jean M. Auel [29]
The woman came into the cooking room. “I understand the water is hot.” Ayla nodded toward the steaming bowl. “And did I hear Folara correctly? She said you were going to show her how to start a fire with stones. What kind of trick is that?”
“Yes. I have some firestones. Jondalar has some, too. The only trick is learning how to use them, and it’s not hard. I’ll be happy to show you any time you would like. We had planned to, anyway.” Zelandoni looked back toward Willamar. Ayla knew she was pulled two ways.
“Not now,” the woman said under her breath, shaking her head. She measured some dried herbs into the paini of her hand from a pouch tied to a belt around her ample waist, then dropped them into the steaming water. “I wish I had brought some yarrow,” she mumbled to herself.
“I have some, if you’d like,” Ayla said.
“What?” Zelandoni said. She was concentrating on what she was doing and hadn’t really paid attention.
“I said I have some yarrow, if you want it. You said you wished you had brought some.”
“Did I? I was thinking it, but why would you have yarrow?”
“I am a medicine woman … a healer. I always have some basic medicines with me. Yarrow is one. It’s good for stomachaches, it relaxes, and it helps wounds heal clean and fast,” she said.
Zelandoni’s jaw would have dropped open if she hadn’t caught it halfway down. “You’re a healer? The woman Jondalar brought home is a healer?” She almost laughed, then closed her eyes and shook her head. “I think we are going to have to have a long talk, Ayla.”
“I would be happy to talk to you anytime,” she said, “but do you want the yarrow?”
Zelandoni thought for a moment. She can’t be One Who Serves. If she was, she would never leave her people to follow some man to his home, even if she did choose to mate. But she may know a little about herbs. A lot of people learn something about them. If she has some yarrow, why not use it? It has a distinctive enough odor so I can tell if it’s right. “Yes. I think it would be helpful, if you have some handy.”
Ayla hurried to her traveling pack, reached into a side pocket, and took out her otterskin medicine bag. This is getting very worn, she thought as she carried it back. I’m going to have to replace it soon. When she got to the cooking room, Zelandoni looked with interest at the strange container. It appeared to be made of the entire animal. She had never seen one like it, but there was something about it that seemed authentic.
The younger woman lifted the otter head flap, loosened the drawstring tie around the neck, then looked inside and withdrew a small pouch. She knew what it contained from the shade of color of the leather, the fiber of the drawstring closure, and the number and arrangement of the knots on the dangling ends. She untied the knot that closed it—it was a kind of knot that was easy to loosen if you knew how—and handed the pouch to the woman.
Zelandoni wondered how Ayla knew that she had the correct herb without smelling it, but when she brought it to her nose, she knew it was right. The donier poured a little into her palm, looked it over carefully to see if it was just leaves, or leaves and flowers, and if there was anything else in it. It appeared to be pure yarrow leaf. She added a few pinches to the wooden bowl.
“Should I add another cooking stone?” Ayla asked, wondering if she wanted an infusion or a decoction—steeped or boiled.
“No,” the donier said. “I don’t want anything too strong. He only needs a mild infusion. He’s almost over the shock. Willamar is a strong man. He’s worried about Marthona now, and I want to give some to her. I need to be careful with her medicine.”
Ayla thought she must be giving Jondalar’s mother regular doses of