Orb and Arrow, page 21
“A woman brought it all to the tent earlier. The wine is a bit harsh, but it should suffice. You’ve had a difficult day. The customs of these Rovers are nothing like the ones I’m familiar with, and I didn’t have time to warn you about them.”
Seeing what was provided, Brillar was somewhat mollified. The meat was still warm, the wine a bit harsh but more warming, the bread and honey, perfect. Fresh fruit was a real treat because they had nothing but dried fruit in their packs.
“I thought you said there were no fruit trees in the Wild,” she questioned, keeping her voice down.
“None that I ever saw,” he replied. “But then I’ve never seen all of the Wild. We kept to a small area, Brother Verian and I. Even the Rovers haven’t seen all there is. These Rovers keep their woman obedient to the men. You need to be careful. As to the rest of the Wild,” idly, he took a piece of fruit, “they’ve been telling me stories of a great expanse of sand to the southwest, with dunes that seem to have marched inward from the sea. And huge areas of stone where nothing grows and you have to carry all the water you need because there are no springs or pools anywhere. There is no shade there, and the sun is so intense that thirst will overtake you in a day.”
“I want no great areas of stone, but the sea? That would be a sight.” Brillar stretched, yawned, and lay back on a blanket. She was asleep in minutes.
It’s a good thing, he thought, as he covered her with a blanket, that she didn’t hear the sport that was made of her before she came to the fire. Or what I had to answer in order to be accepted. He stretched out and fell quickly asleep.
He woke in the morning to find her already at Obis’ tent, checking on his son, and went out with some of the men to hunt, although he decided to withhold his true skills.
At Obis’ tent, the boy was still asleep, but his breathing was even and rhythmic, and his face, which had been ashen, held some color. His head, when she probed it, was mending.
“He won’t die then, lady?” another of the family’s children, perhaps age seven, asked her.
She smiled, reached out, and stroked the child’s cheek. “No, he won’t die. He will be around to pester you for a long time,” she teased.
The little girl just nodded solemnly, then reached for her and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, lady,” she said and ran off, leaving the healer warmed by her gesture.
Norrel came in with hot water and a cloth. “May I wash him?” she asked.
“His legs and arms perhaps, but I would leave the rest for another day.” Brillar sat back as the woman began wiping the boy’s legs carefully.
“Did you really go to the men’s fire last night? I heard it from others but… did you really go?”
“I really went,” Brillar replied, checking the boy’s signs as his mother worked.
There was wonder in Norrel’s voice. “Women have been beaten for even going near the men’s fire after dark. Did he beat you? Your man Elden?”
“As if he would dare,” she replied tartly.
Norrel sat down sharply, taking a deep breath, letting the words come out in a rush. “Then it’s true? That there are other ways? I worry about Ralla. She’s already promised, and I don’t like the choice the elders made, but I have no voice. I don’t wish anyone for myself but Obis, but the pairings they sometimes make, and the girls so young…” She came to a sudden halt, embarrassed. “Truly, there are other ways?” she asked, recovering her breath.
“Many other ways,” Brillar assured her and settled back, satisfied that her patient was in a healthy sleep. “My home is to the north. Families there sometimes encourage certain of their older children to make a selection, but no one is forced. Before we left…“ She stopped a moment, remembering her family and the wedding they had missed. “Before we left, my elder brother, who had cast an eye on many fine young women, finally made his decision and asked for the hand of one. I knew her, studious and with a strong mind. She may have helped him make his ‘decision’ because I think she had settled on him long before he knew it.”
“So a woman can make a choice?”
“She can make half the choice and hope the other chooses her in return.” The exchange left Norrel thoughtful.
Widowanlis came to the tent later in the morning, standing stiffly outside the tent.
“Your pardon, but if you could help me?”
Brillar stood at once. “Any help you need will be given freely.”
Widowanlis relaxed visibly. “It’s my gran’ther. He can barely walk. Can you help him?” Her question was timid, but Brillar gestured for her to lead the way. The widow took her to a small tent, perhaps twelve feet square, behind the tents at the stream.
The man she found lying on a padded cot was thin and grey-haired.
“Gran’ther? I’ve brought the new healer,” the woman said loudly, knowing he was hard of hearing.
Brillar knelt to look at the man, whose joints were swollen and barely flexible. A quick examination, a probing, and a few words, then she stood and stepped aside to speak to Widowanlis.
“We call it joint ill. It afflicts elders everywhere. There is no cure, but there are brews that will ease the swelling and the pain. First, we give him what I carry, then, if you’ll help me, I may be able to find local herbs that will be of value.”
Widowanlis quickly brewed a tea with Brillar’s herbs and made sure her grandfather drank all of it. “Rest now, gran’ther. We go to collect herbs.” The man had barely spoken while Brillar was present. Now he just grunted at his granddaughter.
Widowanlis gathered a sack then called to an unoccupied young man to accompany them. At Brillar’s look, she said, “Women don’t gather without a protector.”
They went upstream, away from the encampment, keeping an eye on the ground as the man watched for danger. As far as Brillar could tell, the women here never touched weapons. Widowanlis pointed out the herbs she used. Each time they found a plant that was new to her, Brillar reached deep into it, probing leaves, flowers, and roots. Several that she thought would be helpful were new to her companion. Some, she dug up whole, handing them to Widowanlis to examine and put into a sack. Others had their leaves or flowers removed to be wrapped in cloth. She kept up a steady stream of conversation with Widowanlis, explaining the use and preparation of each plant. She also asked questions.
“Why are you called Widowanlis? Is that a proper name?”
“Until two years past, I was Anliswife,” replied the woman proudly. “Anlis was a fine hunter, so strong, so brave. But a stern man. I felt his hand many a time when I didn’t behave properly.” Her tone was somber. “Still, it was a good pairing, although we had no children.”
“And now?” She reached for a plant with a thick stem.
“I am permitted to stay with my gran’ther as I have some skill in healing, taught by the elder woman who was our healer. She died these five years ago.”
“She taught you very well,” Brillar said, and Widowanlis blushed. “But you said, ‘permitted to stay?’ I don’t understand.”
“There’s no man to hunt for me, but I have family to care for, my gran’ther. Anlis was killed in a hunt for irex. My gran’ther was a good hunter, but he can’t go out with the men any longer. If I wasn’t a healer, we would be cast out, or worse.” She lowered her head. “I have only a little skill with snares. We eat what we are given. That is all. To be cast out…”
Worse? Brillar was angry, but she kept it to herself and said quietly, “Isn’t there a wifeless man who might wish to marry you?”
Widowanlis’ voice held shock. “No one would ask me. Not after I was wed to Anlis! It’s forbidden. If there had been children, another man might be permitted to take me, but I was barren. ‘A woman with a child is a woman useful’ say the elders. Another woman might be skilled in basket making and be useful, but a woman with a child has proved her value.”
“Suppose a young woman’s man is killed soon after they marry. What then?”
“Sometimes she’s traded to a new band. We have a gathering every two years. If someone at the gathering wants her, she’ll be traded for cloth goods, iron, or even a different woman.”
“And before a gathering?”
Widowanlis glanced at their guardian, who was a dozen paces away. Still, she lowered her voice. “You saw that there was one tent set apart? A small one?” Brillar nodded.
“She is there.”
“She?” Brillar dreaded the answer.
“As you say, her man was killed soon after they were joined. Until the gathering, she will be used.”
“Used?” She managed to keep the horror out of her voice.
Widowanlis’ voice dropped to a whisper, “Used by the men. For sport. Or by young men not yet wed.”
Brillar kept her face bent toward the grasses to hide her outrage. When she felt she could control herself, she said, “She can’t return to her parents? Learn a skill making her worth her keeping? Or stay with them until a gathering?”
Widowanlis’ voice showed her shock. “That is not done! Once she was wed, she belonged to her husband.”
Brillar sat heavily and patted the ground beside her. “Have you ever wished that things could be different?” She kept her tone light, pretending unconcern.
“They are different in your country?” asked the widow.
“Many things are different in my country,” was the easy reply.
“Well,” Widowanlis glanced again at their guardian, “there is a man in the village whose wife died in a wolf attack when she strayed a bit too far searching for tubers. His daughter brought the sweet herbs?” Brillar nodded. “She is young, but he has two younger. He has looked at me with pleasure, I think, and I at him.” She stopped, blushing. “He’s a fine man and strong. He doesn’t go to the pleasure woman; he just looks at me.” She blushed more deeply. “I burn for him and he for me, I think. But it is forbidden.”
“Have you spoken to him? Asked him, perhaps, what he would do if there was a choice for you both?”
She shook her head vigorously. “Forbidden.”
“But you’ve exchanged looks; you feel for each other. The children need a mother, and it seems you would be a good choice.”
“They are fine children. The girl studies healing a bit with me; the others are sometimes found underfoot at my tent. I have come to care for all three.”
“Perhaps if the girl or one of the younger children were to speak to their father?”
Widowanlis lowered her head.
A few moments of quiet for the woman’s pain and Brillar said, “It seems to me that we have all we need if I’ve gathered correctly. Now I’ll show you the preparations, and you can show me what you have.” They nodded cheerfully at their guardian and returned to the tents where they found Norj sitting on his bed. They spent part of the afternoon preparing herbs. Some, they set to dry, roots were pounded and boiled, flowers and leaves steeped in boiling water. When the first of the new preparations were ready, they added honey and gave them to Norj.
“He’ll need the tea four times a day. We should see a result in his trouble quickly.”
Widowanlis nodded gratefully, then asked, “There is a child you might see? I set her arm, but if a true healer could look at her?”
Brillar smiled and nodded.
The little girl was about four. Her arm was bound by strips of cloth and fastened to her chest. She pulled away from a strange woman at first, but Brillar reached out with soothing and was rewarded with a bit of a smile. An examination showed that the bone was well set and already healing.
“You did very well; the child’s arm is mending beautifully.” Her words were met with a broad smile from her companion and the child’s mother.
Since she had agreed to one, she found there were others to be looked after. A child with a fever, a woman with stomach pains; she went with a smile wherever Widowanlis led her then returned to check on her first patient.
“Tonight, dine with us at the women’s fire. For company,” said Widowanlis at last.
When she found Elden coming back from a hunt, she told him about the invitation. “Good, it will keep you out of trouble,” was all he had to say.
*** 18 ***
Norrel and Widowanlis led Brillar to the fire and space was made for her at the circle. The women’s fire was some distance away from the men’s but much more cheerful. Or perhaps, she thought honestly, it was just my presence last night. Stew in great bowls was handed 'round with wooden spoons for utensils. There was light chatter all around the fire and she was included, although there were some references that she didn’t understand. Glancing up at one point, Brillar saw another figure, set apart by a few paces, her back to the group. Seeing the direction of her glance, Widowanlis whispered, “The pleasure woman.”
Brillar bent her head, shaking it angrily, then stood abruptly, placing her bowl on the ground. Leaving the fire, she strode to the girl, who looked at her in astonishment.
“Your mother wants you by the fire.” There was command in her quiet voice. Taking the girl by the arm, she half led, half dragged her to the circle. Locating her mother by the expression on her face, she sat the girl firmly beside her. Brillar returned to her seat and took up eating as if nothing unusual had happened. Across the fire, an arm went around the girl, and she was pulled to her mother.
There was no more chatter that night.
The next day, Pral sat up, demanding food and complained when ‘food’ was only light soups.
“You, young man,” said Brillar firmly, “have made a mess of your head and your insides. Light soups for two days, then soup with meat, then you can have real food.”
“We mean to enforce that, Pral,” said his father. He knelt to put his arms around his son, and Brillar heard him whisper, “We almost lost you.” He straightened. “So you will behave!” The boy settled back meekly.
Brillar went back to Widowanlis and spent the morning teaching her more about the herbs they had gathered. Norj declared that he was feeling better and was able to step outside. “To be shut away, having to listen to all this chatter is unhealthy for a hunter,” he proclaimed. He was able to hobble to another tent, where an older hunter sat on a crude bench. Behind him, the women smothered laughter.
In the afternoon, the two visited the woman who had stomach pains, finding her up from her bed and cheerful. They were back at Widowanlis tent when a woman came with a boy who had, that morning, fallen into thorn brush and taken deep scratches which his mother had already washed.
“They will fester,” Widowanlis said, “without an ointment.” She took a covered bowl from a shelf and applied it to the scratches. The woman sat with them and chatted for a while. When she left, Widowanlis explained how the ointment was made and how long it kept. Brillar nodded, assuring her that it looked and smelled like something she also prepared and used.
Brillar was again asked to join the women’s fire and was happy to find that the ‘pleasure woman’ sat with her mother. That evening, instead of keeping to one place, some of the women came to push Widowanlis aside and sit next to Brillar, quietly asking questions about her home, her life there, and the bow all had heard she carried. One finally asked, “Did you really fire an arrow at Sarl?”
“The headman is Sarl? Well, not at him, but near enough to his foot to make him cautious.” Those within hearing could only stare at her.
Elden looked questioningly when she came back late to the tent, but she was only thoughtful and in no mood for conversation. She fell asleep quickly.
***
Before dawn the following day, Brillar was shaken awake. “Up and quickly,” urged Elden, shoving her pack and bow at her, “and move. Something’s happening.”
When the pair stood, they were confronted by Rovers.
“You are to leave, now,” came Sarl’s stern, angry voice.
“We’re ready.” Elden’s reply was calm, but she could feel his tension.
“Without the woman,” came another voice.
“She has brought disorder here. She will be punished for everyone to see,” Sarl stated with finality.
Reaching out, finding only anger around them, Elden made the only answer he could, unleashing a ring spell that caught the men by surprise. The spell was dark, smoky, mixed with dancing lights, and men around them dropped like stones. He drew in more mana. A spear whizzed past them, thrown from some distance.
“Run,” he shouted, and they sprinted downslope toward open land. There were five miles or more between them and the Rovers when Elden brought them to a halt. He had revitalized them several times during their flight; now he grabbed her arm, spinning her around.
“What, by all that is Good, have you been up to?” he shouted; there was fire in his voice.
“Healing,” she shouted back, “I have been up to healing.”
“And something more, I think, you little fool,” he continued to shout.
That brought her up short. Elden had never spoken to her that way before. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she answered, “Widowanlis and Norrel asked questions, and I answered.” She was still defiant. “Norrel’s daughter, Ralla, is only seven, and already promised to a bully of a boy twice her age. She asked if it was so everywhere, and I answered. Others asked and were answered as well.”
Elden could only turn in a circle. “So you just answered? By all that stands in the Light… just answered?” He stalked away, leaving her to follow.
He set a hard pace, putting distance between them and any who might try to follow them. It was nearly dark when he stopped. She pulled up behind him, holding her side. He had offered her no help during the day and no time for comfort. She was tired, dusty, hungry, and thirsty. He gave her nothing, not even the ease of a fire. Brillar dumped her pack, which had been hastily stuffed, relieved to find everything there. She took a long pull of her water flask, finding it close to empty. Opening the foldbox, she added water to the flask then took out rations and a blanket; her other blanket had been left behind.
