The valley of horses_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [77]
“Isn’t young love splendid,” the Shamud commented. The meaning of the words was lost on Thonolan, but not the wry sarcasm. It made him look closer.
The voice of the healer was pitched neither deep nor high, and Thonolan looked for some clue of dress or behavior that would tell him if it was a woman’s low alto or a man’s high tenor. He couldn’t decide, and though he wasn’t exactly sure why, he relaxed a bit, feeling confident he was in the best of hands.
Jondalar’s relief was so evident when he saw Jetamio come out of the tent with the backframes that she was a little ashamed she hadn’t gotten them sooner. She knew his problem, but he was so funny. He thanked her profusely with unfamiliar words that nonetheless communicated his gratitude, and then he headed for the patch of high brush. He felt so much better with dry clothes on, he even forgave Jetamio for laughing.
I suppose I did look rather ridiculous, he thought, but those trousers were wet, and cold. Well, a little laughter is a small price to pay for their help. I don’t know what I would have done … I wonder how they knew? Perhaps the healer has other powers—that could explain it. Right now, I’m just glad for the healing powers. He stopped. At least I think that zelandoni has healing powers. I haven’t seen Thonolan. I don’t know if he’s better or not, I think it’s time I found out. After all, he is my brother. They can’t keep me away if I want to see him.
Jondalar strode back to the camp, put his pack down beside the fire, deliberately took the time to stretch out his damp clothes to dry again, and then headed for the tent.
He nearly bumped into the healer, who was leaving just as he ducked to enter. The Shamud sized him up quickly, and before Jondalar could attempt to say anything, smiled ingratiatingly, stepped aside, and waved him on with an exaggerated graceful gesture, acquiescing to the tall, powerful man.
Jondalar gave the healer an appraising look. No hint of relinquished authority showed in the piercing eyes evaluating him in return, though any further disclosure of intent was as obscure as the ambiguous color. The smile, which had seemed ingratiating at first glance, was more ironic on second look. Jondalar sensed that this healer, like many of that calling, could be a powerful friend or a formidable enemy.
He nodded, as though reserving judgment, briefly smiled his thanks, and went in. He was surprised to see that Jetamio had arrived before he did. She was supporting Thonolan’s head, holding a bone cup to his lips.
“I might have known,” he said, and his smile was pure joy at seeing his brother awake, and apparently much improved. “You did it again.”
Both of them looked up at Jondalar. “What did I do, Big Brother?”
“Within three heartbeats of opening your eyes, you managed to get the prettiest woman around waiting on you.”
Thonolan’s grin was the most welcome sight his brother could imagine. “You are right about the prettiest woman around.” Thonolan looked fondly at Jetamio. “But what are you doing in the spirit world? And while I’m thinking of it, just remember, she’s my own personal donii. You can keep your big blue eyes to yourself.”
“Don’t worry about me, Little Brother. Every time she looks at me, all she can do is laugh.”
“She can laugh at me anytime she wants,” Thonolan said, smiling at the woman. She smiled in return. “Can you imagine waking up from the dead to that smile?” His fondness was beginning to look adoring as he stared into her eyes.
Jondalar looked from his brother to Jetamio and back again. What is going on here? Thonolan just woke up, they can’t have said one word to each other, but I’d swear he was in love. He looked at the woman again, more objectively.
Her hair was a rather nondescript shade of light brown, and she was smaller and thinner than the women Thonolan was usually attracted to. She could almost be mistaken for a girl. She had a heart shaped face with regular features and was really a rather ordinary-looking young woman; pretty enough, but certainly not exceptional—until