Tillu wondered what promises Carp had made her and forgotten. Once she dared to speak to Capiam of his daughter's withdrawn silence.
Puzzled, he had replied, 'But Kari has always been that way; quiet, idle, dreaming. It is why Ketla and I have decided that marriage is best for her. With a hearth and a man, she will have to talk, to take care of things. She will be a different woman.'
Tillu wondered. She suspected marriage would not change the girl. When Kari was not staring into the fire, she busied herself with needlework. From somewhere she had acquired baskets of black pinion feathers. Row upon overlapping row she stitched to a cloak of calf-leather. Ketla seemed proud of her new domesticity, but wrinkled her nose at the work, declaring it would smell horrid the first time it was rained on. Kari never replied. She only bent her dark head closer over her work, sealing out their words with her tiny even stitching.
And so the days passed, one after another, as alike as beads carved painstakingly from bone. Rolke was no better, Kerlew seemed only thinner, his eyes more vacant. Of Heckram she had but a few guilty words a day, whispered at the door-flap while Capiam stood watching as if he begrudged every instant Tillu did not give his son.
Heckram's news was sparse and not comforting. Kerlew lived in the najd's new tent, and should be eating well, for Joboam furnished the najd with fresh meat daily.
Heckram and Ristin were fine; they missed Tillu's company. And sometimes there was the touch of his hand on hers, sending her strength and warmth before she had to return once more to the herdlord's son.
But the days did pass, with or without Tillu's cognizance of them. There came an evening when the tent seemed full of women, clustered about Ketla, making merry chatter over their sewing. Rolke was sleeping, and Capiam out. Kari sat apart from the others, her lap cloaked with the black feathers, her shoulders hunched to her endless task. Tillu slipped quietly from her place by Rolke, to hunker down beside Kari. She glanced at the girl's dull eyes. Their edges had been reddened by the close, meticulous work. Tillu put out a cautious hand to stroke the evenly set feathers. 'It's a lovely piece of work, Kari,' she ventured gently.
Kari lifted her face slowly. Their eyes met. 'It's useless,' Kari said dully. 'He'll refuse.
He won't have me.' Then she abruptly stood, letting her work slide from her lap, and walked over to her bedding. She lay down and pulled the hides up over her head. Tillu was stricken with terror. Death had looked at her from Kari's eyes.
Ketla had noticed her daughter's rebuff of the healer. 'Don't mind the girl,' she had called laughingly to Tillu. 'She is only nervous and thoughtful, as any girl is the night before her joining. Come and help us with the sewing.'
Tillu felt buffeted by the commiserating laughter that rose from the other women.
How could they be so blind? Her own voice sounded thin to her as she answered.
'Thank you, but no. I think I shall go outside into the cool for a while. If Rolke awakes, call me.'
'Let him get his rest,' Ketla clucked fondly. 'Soon he will be better. The najd has said so.'
Tillu bit her tongue and left the stifling tent. Outside, the soft twilight and the cool air off the Cataclysm soothed her. She would enjoy this quiet time. Soon enough Carp would arrive with his acrid smokes and monotonous noise. She sank slowly down onto the hides and tried to let go of her worries. If Kari worried that Pirtsi would not have her, then surely she had changed her heart about this joining? Why could not Tillu lift her own spirits, be happy that Kari had decided to take a man?
When Heckram stepped out of the darkness to stand over her, her heart leaped with gladness. His quiet strength drew her like the warmth and light of a fire. She reached up easily to seize his hand and draw him down beside her. He smiled at her and kept her hand in his. But his first words were 'I cannot stay long.'
'Why not?' Sharp disappointment.
He hesitated. 'So much must be done in the next few days. I've been at the reindeer pens all day. My calves and Lasse's are marked now and castrated. But there are still Ristin's, Missa's, and Kuoljok's to do.' He laughed softly, without humor. 'Sometimes 1
feel I am marking half the herd. I don't know how many calves carry my teeth marks.'
Tillu nodded. 'Sometimes I feel I have healed half the people here. And more are coming every day. Ticks. Most of them have infected tick-bites. Or a fever that comes and goes, and then comes again.' Tillu stopped, tried to veer her mind from her own secret fears of plague. 'Or a calf's hoofprint somewhere. Never have I seen such a people for breaking bones and twisting joints.'
With the ghost of a smile, Heckram held up his free hand. Three of his fingers were bound together. 'I wasn't going to mention it, but ...'
With an exclamation, Tillu seized his wrist and pulled the hand to her. She unwrapped his crude bandaging and gently felt, then manipulated each finger. 'Not broken,' she said as he flinched and pulled his hand away. She recaptured his hand and massaged it softly. 'Heat a pot of water tonight, as hot as you can stand, and soak your hand in it. Does Ristin have alder bark or yarrow? If so, grind some and add it to the water. And wrap the fingers again tomorrow, before you try to work.'
Heckram listened gravely, but amusement danced in his eyes. 'I came to see Tillu, not the healer,' he observed quietly.
Tillu laughed, but didn't stop massaging his hand. 'I think the healer is all I am these days.' Her smile faded suddenly. 'Unless I want to sew on Kari's wedding clothes. Her joining tomorrow is all they talk of within the tent. No matter how often I tell them they must be quiet, that Rolke must rest and Ketla should lie down, they do not listen. I will almost be glad when it is done. Perhaps then there will be enough quiet for Ketla to get better.'
'And Rolke?' Heckram asked.
Tillu turned worried eyes up to him. 'I don't know. He lives, but seems no better.
Whenever Ketla looks at him, she turns pale. Capiam will not talk to me about it. All he says is 'the najd said he would be better when we reached the Cataclysm. We are here.
You are the healer. You know what to do for him. Do it.' Then Ketla goes back to planning Kari's joining, and Capiam goes off to count reindeer, or take Carp another gift. No one listens to me.'
'It is the way of the herdfolk. And Capiam most of all. What he cannot fix, he will not worry about. Instead, he does the things he can. He marks calves for himself, and Ketla, and Rolke, and even Kari, who should be doing her own. He increases the stature of his folk by letting all know what a good healer he has. He catches fish to dry for the long winter, and does all a man can do to see that his family is provided for. If death comes, he will mourn. But he will not mourn before then.'
After a moment, Tillu nodded. 'I see.' She paused. 'Without realizing it, I have been doing the same myself.' She turned beseeching eyes on him. 'I haven't seen Kerlew today. How is he?'
Heckram looked uncomfortable. 'I haven't seen him either. But he seemed fine the last time I did. Thinner, but perhaps he is growing taller.'
'Is he eating well?' Tillu asked anxiously.
'I ... I would suppose so. There is never a lack of food in Joboam's tent.'
Tillu stared at him without speaking. Heckram sighed. 'I can do little about it, Tillu. I do not like him to be there, but he stays where the najd stays, and Carp stays with Joboam. Capiam has given hides and paid women to sew him a fine new tent. The tent is up, and the najd likes it, but he also likes to stay in Joboam's tent. There he does not have to build his own fire or cook for himself. Joboam does it all, but not as willingly as he did at first. Still, in that tent Carp has much to eat, rich furs to sleep on, and many gifts. I wonder at the things Joboam has given him. Yesterday I saw the najd wearing a bronze neckpiece that was Joboam's favorite. He dressed in Joboam's best tunics, for all that they hang to the ground on him. Yesterday Pirtsi was butchering one of Joboam's calves; the najd wished to eat calve's heart and tongue. I cannot walk into Joboam's hut and demand the boy; Kerlew would not leave the najd, and Joboam would cause an uproar. But I do not think the najd would allow Joboam to hurt the boy.'
Tillu had listened in silence. 'I understand,' she said. 'There is little either of us can do right now. When Rolke is better, then I will find a way to speak to Kerlew.' She suddenly looked up at Heckram. 'I may have to take him away with me,' she whispered. She fumbled suddenly for words to express her sudden resolution. 'I do not want him learning what Carp is teaching him; that a friend is the one who gives you the most. Look at poor Kari, and how he repaid all her care and hospitality. Since the najd tossed her aside, she has grieved like a heart-broken child. She scarcely speaks at all.
