His first woman had not been too happy when he came home with a young and beautiful second woman, but she was a good Clan woman. She had taken good care of his hearth, and she would keep the status of First Woman. He promised to take care of her and her two daughters. He hadn't minded that. Though he had always wished she would have a son, the daughters of his mate were a delight to have around the hearth, though they would soon be grown and gone.
But if he couldn't hunt, he wouldn't be able to take care of anyone. Like an old man, the clan would have to take care of him instead. And his beautiful yellow-hair, who might give birth to a son, how could he take care of her? She would have no trouble finding a man willing to take her, but he would lose her.
He could not even get back to the clan if he couldn't walk. She would have to go for help, and they would have to come and get him. If he couldn't make it back on his own, he would be less in the eyes of his clan, but it would be so much worse if the broken leg slowed him down and he lost his skill at hunting, or could never hunt again.
Perhaps I should talk to this healer of the Others, he thought, even if she is a woman who uses a weapon. Her status must be high, Dyondar holds her in high regard, and his must be high, or he would not be mated to a medicine woman. She had made those other men leave as much as the man… she and the wolf. Why would a wolf help them? He had seen her talking to the animal. The signal was simple and direct, she told him to wait over there, by the tree near the horses, but the wolf understood her and did it. He was still there, waiting.
Guban looked away. It was difficult even to think about those animals without feeling a deep, underlying fear of spirits. What else would draw the wolf or the horses to them? What else would make animals behave so… unlike animals?
He could tell his yellow-hair was worried; how could he blame her? Since Dyondar had seen fit to acknowledge his woman, perhaps it would be appropriate to mention his. He would not want them to think the status she gained from him was any less than Dyondar's. Guban made a very subtle motion to the woman who had watched and seen everything, but, like a good Clan woman, had managed to make herself very inconspicuous.
"This woman is…"he motioned, then tapped her shoulder and said, "Yorga."
Jondalar had the impression of two swallows separated by a rolled R. He could not even begin to reproduce the sound. Ayla saw his struggle, and she had to think of a way to gracefully handle the situation. She repeated her name in a way Jondalar could say it, but addressed her as a woman.
"Yorga," adding with signs, "this woman greets you. This woman is called…" and very slowly and carefully said, "Ayla." Then in both signs and words, so Jondalar could understand, "The man named Dyondar would also greet the woman of Guban."
It was not the way it would have been done in the Clan, Guban thought, but then these people were Others, and it was not offensive. He was curious to see what Yorga would do.
She flicked her eyes in Jondalar's direction, very briefly, then looked back down at the ground. Guban shifted position just enough to let her know he was pleased. She had acknowledged Dyondar's existence, but no more.
Jondalar was less subtle. He had never been so close to Clan people… and he was fascinated. His look took much longer. Her features were similar to Guban's, with feminine modifications, and he had noticed before that she was sturdy but short, the height of a girl. She was far from beautiful, at least in his opinion, except for her pale yellow, downy-soft fluff of curls, but he could understand why Guban might think so. Suddenly mindful of Guban watching him, he nodded perfunctorily, then looked away. The Clan man was glowering; he would have to be careful.
Guban hadn't liked the attention Jondalar had paid to his woman, but he did sense there was no lack of respect intended, and he was having more difficulty controlling his pain. He needed to know more about this healer.
"I would speak to your… healer, Dyondar," Guban signed.
Jondalar got the sense of his meaning and nodded. Ayla had been watching, quickly came forward, and sat in respectful posture in front of the man.
"Dyondar has said the woman is a healer. The woman says medicine woman. Guban would know how a woman of the Others can be a medicine woman of the Clan."
Ayla spoke as she made the signs, so that Jondalar would understand exactly what she was telling Guban. "The woman who took me in, who raised me, was a medicine woman of highest rank. Iza came from most ancient line of medicine woman. Iza was like mother to this woman, trained this woman with the daughter born to the line," Ayla explained. She could see he was skeptical but interested in knowing more. "Iza knew this woman did not have the memories as her true daughter did."
Guban nodded, of course not.
"Iza made this woman remember, made this woman tell Iza over and over, show over and over, until the medicine woman knew this woman would not lose the memories. This woman was happy to practice, to repeat many times to learn the ways of a medicine woman."
Although her gestures remained stylized and formal, her words became less so as she continued her explanation.
"Iza told me she thought this woman came from a long line of medicine women, too, medicine women of the Others. Iza said I thought like a medicine woman, but she taught me how to think about medicine like a woman of the Clan. This woman was not born with the memories of a medicine woman, but Iza's memories are my memories now."
Ayla had everyone's attention. "Iza got sick, a coughing sickness that not even she could heal, and I began to do more. Even the leader was pleased when I treated a burn, but Iza gave status to the clan. When she was too sick to make the trip to the Clan Gathering, and her true daughter was still too young, the leader and the Mog-ur decided to make me medicine woman. They said that since I had her memories, I was a medicine woman of her line. The other mog-urs and leaders at the Clan Gathering didn't like the idea at first, but they finally accepted me, too."
Ayla could see Guban was interested, and she sensed he wanted to believe her, but he still had doubts. She took off the decorated bag from around her neck, untied the cords, and spilled out some of the contents into her palm, then picked out a small black stone and held it out to him.
Guban knew what it was, the black stone that would leave a mark was a mystery. Even the smallest piece could hold a tiny fraction of the spirits of all the people of the Clan, and was given to a medicine woman when a piece of hers was taken. The amulet she wore was strange, he thought, typical of the way the Others made things, but he hadn't known they wore amulets at all. Maybe the Others weren't all ignorant and brutish.
Guban noticed another of the objects from her amulet and pointed to it. "What is that?"
Ayla put the rest of her objects back in her amulet and put it down so she could answer. "It is my hunting talisman," she said.
That could not be true, Guban thought. This would prove her wrong. "Women of the Clan do not hunt."
"I know, but I was not born to the Clan. I was chosen by a Clan totem who protected me and led me to the clan that became mine, and my totem wanted me to hunt. Our mog-ur reached back and found the old spirits who told him. They made a special ceremony. I was called the Woman Who Hunts."
"What is this Clan totem that chose you?"
Much to Guban's surprise, Ayla lifted her tunic, unloosened the drawstring ties from around the waist of her leggings, and lowered the side enough to show her left thigh. Four parallel lines, the scars left by the claws that had raked her thigh when she was a girl, showed clearly. "My totem is the Cave Lion."