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“Yes, that is your destiny, to be a medicine woman, but that is Serving the Mother, and someday, you may be called to serve in another way. You need to be prepared. Ayla, you want to be the best medicine woman, don’t you? Even you know that some sickness cannot be healed by medicines and treatments alone. How do you cure someone who no longer wants to live? What medicine gives someone the will to recover from a serious accident? When someone dies, what treatment do you give the ones left behind?”
Ayla bowed her head. If someone had known what to do for her when Iza died, she might not have lost her milk and had to give her son to the other women with babies to nurse. Would she know what to do if that happened to someone she was taking care of? Would knowledge of the spirit world help her to know what to do?
Rydag was watching the tense scene, knowing he had been forgotten for the moment. He was afraid to move, afraid it would distract them from something very important, though he wasn’t sure what it was.
“Ayla, what is it you fear? What happened to make you turn away? Tell me about it,” Mamut said, his voice persuasively warm.
Ayla got up suddenly. She picked up the warm furs and tucked them around the old shaman. “Must cover, keep warm for poultice to work,” she said, obviously distracted and upset. Mamut lay back, allowed her to complete her treatment of him without objection, realizing she needed time. She began to pace, nervous and agitated, her eyes unfocused, staring into space or at some internal scene. She spun around and faced him.
“I did not mean to!” she said.
“What didn’t you mean to do?” Mamut said.
“Go into cave … see mog-urs.”
“When did you go into the cave, Ayla?” Mamut knew the restrictions against women participating in Clan rituals. She must have done something she wasn’t supposed to, broken some taboo, he thought.
“At Clan Gathering.”
“You went to a Clan Gathering? They hold a Gathering once every seven years, isn’t that right?”
Ayla nodded.
“How long ago was this Gathering?”
She had to stop, think about it, and the concentration cleared her mind a bit. “Durc was just born then, in spring. Next summer, will be seven years! Next summer, is Clan Gathering. Clan will go to Gathering, bring Ura back. Ura and Durc will mate. My son will be man soon!”
“Is that true, Ayla? He will be only seven years when he mates? Your son will be a man so young?” Mamut asked.
“No, not so young. Maybe three, four more years. He is … like Druwez. Not yet man. But mother of Ura ask me fo
r Durc, for Ura. She is child of mixed spirits, too. Ura will live with Brun and Ebra. When Durc and Ura old enough, will mate.”
Rydag stared at Ayla in disbelief. He didn’t entirely understand all the implications, but one thing seemed certain. She had a son, mixed like him, who lived with the Clan!
“What happened at the Clan Gathering seven years ago, Ayla?” Mamut asked, not wanting to let it drop when he had seemed so close to getting an agreement from Ayla to begin training, although she had brought up some intriguing points he would like to ask her about. He was convinced that it was not only important, it was essential, for her own sake.
Ayla closed her eyes with a pained expression. “Iza is too sick to go. She tell Brun I am medicine woman, Brun make ceremony. She tell me how to chew root to make drink for mog-urs. Tell only, cannot show me. Is too … sacred to make for practice. Mog-urs at Clan Gathering not want me, I am not Clan. But no one else knows, only Iza’s line. Finally say yes. Iza tell me not swallow juice when I chew, spit into bowl, but I cannot. I swallow some. Later, I am confused, go into cave, follow fires, find mog-urs. They not see me, but Creb knows.”
She became agitated again, paced back and forth. “It is dark, like deep hole, and I am falling.” She hunched her shoulders, rubbed her arms, as though she was cold. “Then Creb come, like you, Mamut, but more. He … he … take me with him.”
She was silent then, pacing. Finally she stopped and spoke again. “Later, Creb is very angry and unhappy. And I am … different. I never say, but sometimes I think I go back there, and I am … frightened.”
Mamut waited, to see if she was finished. He had some idea what she had gone through. He had been allowed at a Clan ceremony. They used certain plants in unique ways, and he had experienced something unfathomable. He had tried, but he had never been able to duplicate the experience, even after he became Mamut. He was about to say something when Ayla spoke again.
“Sometimes I want to throw root away, but Iza tell me is sacred.”
It took a moment for the meaning of Ayla’s words to register, but the shock of recognition nearly brought him to his feet.
“Are you saying you have that root with you?” he asked, finding it difficult to control his excitement.
“When I leave, take medicine bag. Root is in medicine bag, in special red pouch.”
“But is it still good? You say it’s been more than three years since you left. Wouldn’t it lose potency in that time?”
“No, is prepared special way. After root is dried, keeps long time. Many years.”
“Ayla,” the Mamut began, trying to phrase his words just right, “it could be very fortunate that you have it still. You know, the best way to overcome a fear is to face it. Would you be willing to prepare that root again? Just for you and me?”
