“Probably,” Heckram agreed blandly. He lifted a slow hand to her face. Just as she moved to avoid his touch, he plucked a strand of dried grass from her hair. He flicked it away and stood looking down on her. “Herdmen learn patience at an early age.” He looked out over the lake as he held out a hand toward her. For a long moment it hovered empty in the air between them. Then Tillu put hers into it, watched her small fingers wrapped and covered by his large ones. He lifted his other hand to point. “There’s our herd, already moving. Look at the way patches of white flicker through it and then all is grayish-brown again. All the little white tails flashing. And beyond it, like a brown shadow moving over the earth? That’s the wild herd. They’ll be far ahead of us before this day’s out. We may not catch sight of them again until we reach the Cataclysm.”
His hand was dry and warm. His voice was deep, and he spoke so softly she had to strain to hear. He moved his eyes to look at her. On the hillside behind them, a bird called, its note high and clear in the morning air. She wanted to smile at him, but could not. She looked down, feeling foolish.
“We’d better go down and eat, or there won’t be anything left. And there’s a long walk ahead of us today.”
She nodded silently. He closed his fingers on hers, holding them firmly a moment before releasing her. They walked down the hill to the camp, not touching, but together.
All the others were stirring now. Kerlew had taken food for himself and Carp into the shelter. He crouched by the shaman, eating and nodding to Carp. He did not look up as Tillu returned. She wanted to call him to her side, to make him talk to her, but could think of no excuse for it. She greeted Lasse and thanked Kari when she scooped out a serving of fish stew for her. It tasted too strong in the light air of morning, but she ate it anyway. She looked up once from her food, her eyes seeking Heckram, but he sat, bowl in hand, staring into the shelter. His brows were drawn together and his eyes were grave as he watched Kerlew rocking with laughter at something Carp had said. An emotion very like envy washed across his face. In an instant it was gone, and he dipped his head to sip from his bowl again.
The time for rest was suddenly over. Pots were scrubbed out with a wad of grass and packed again onto the patient harkar. The shelter hides were rolled and tied. The harkar were led off down the hillside to be added to Lasse’s string.
“I’d best go see to my beasts,” Heckram admitted with a suddenly guilty look. “I left them with Ristin last night. She’ll have words for me, for having to unload and picket them for me.” He addressed the words to all, but Tillu had the foolish notion that he spoke to her. He looked at Kerlew and asked carefully, “Are you going with me today, Kerlew, or with your mother?”
“Where’s Carp going to be?” Kerlew asked immediately.
To Carp, there was no question. “Come, apprentice, and carry our things. I will ride with Heckram, and you will walk alongside.” The old man stood slowly, and Tillu saw his stiffness. She could make a salve for it; the dampness of the spring nights probably made mornings a torment for him. But…
She wavered in ambivalence. The najd was good to the boy, kind and attentive to him. But he was stealing her son from her, putting his feet on a narrow, dangerous path. Tillu watched them walk away down the hillside, taking comfort that Heckram at least would be close to Kerlew today. But as she noticed three other boys of Kerlew’s age peering from some bushes at them, her heart sank. What did the other children think of this boy who walked always beside the najd, who did not run and play with them, but talked dreamy-eyed to an old man who rode a harke like a baby?
She was startled from her dark mood by Kari’s hand on her arm. “And now you will teach me?” she asked. Her eyes were bright. She had a basket on her arm, and she offered a shoulder pouch to Tillu. Good thing one of them had remembered such necessities. Tillu touched the knife at her belt, and Kari held up hers to show she was prepared. “First, we need to make digging sticks,” Tillu told her, and was rewarded with a joyous smile. Her heart lifted inspite of herself.
The day reminded Tillu of the days when she and her aunt had gathered herbs and roots together. But this time it was Tillu who pointed and explained, and Kari who rubbed the roots clean on the grass and stowed them in her basket. Yet Tillu did not feel like a mother or aunt, but more girlish than she had felt in her childhood. She tried to worry about Kerlew, but found herself remembering that he was safe with Heckram. Then her mind would wander to the way the early sunlight glinted on Heckram’s new beard, and his smile slowly dawned on his solemn face. A curious anticipation touched all her thoughts of him. Spring, she told herself firmly. Sap was running in the trees, and her blood was racing through her veins. A good tonic would take these imaginings away. But she gave no thought to concocting one.
Instead, they gathered the bark and roots of the birch for cough syrup and acne medicine. Strips of willow bark peeled easily from the trees leaving the slick white cambrium exposed. “Later, we will gather the leaves,” Tillu instructed Kari. “Bound on a bleeding wound as a poultice, they stop the flow of blood. But for now we will take the bark, to make a tea for fever, or pound to a poultice for sores. Get a bit of root, too. I’ll show you how to make a colic medicine from it.”
Kari knelt on the forest debris to dig for the root. Tillu continued to peel bark from the branches in long ragged strips. Beyond a thin fringe of trees, the wide blue surface of the lake glinted. Behind them, they could hear the reindeer and folk on the traditional path. The folk did not hurry today. No one minded if a harke paused to nip new buds from a tree, or snatch up a mouthful of moss. Tolerance and good fellowship warmed the air with the spring sun. The adults had stripped back to sleeveless jerkins of light leather and short trousers or skirts. The children were all but naked, their skins soaking up the sun’s warmth. Tillu folded her long strips of bark into a bundle and stuffed them into the shoulder pouch. Already it bulged gratifyingly. They would have to hurry ahead to Lasse and change this pouch for an empty one.
Kari shook the clinging soil from the network of roots. Willow roots were tough, and she had had to use her knife to get this chunk loose. She wadded up the tangle of roots and stuffed it into her basket. She smiled up at Tillu. Dirt smudged the side of her nose and the look of distance and mystery had left her eyes. Her face was shining as she said, “You meant it, then. I thought perhaps you only needed me to help with the gathering. But you will really teach me the healing herbs.” She reached into the hole and dragged up another hank of willow root.
“Of course I will.” A reckless enjoyment of companionship settled on Tillu. “If Carp is to have an apprentice, I see no reason why I shouldn’t.”
Kari dropped the root she was cleaning, and reached up to seize Tillu’s hands in a pinching grip. Startled, Tillu tried to pull free, but Kari did not release her. Her black eyes were wide and shining. “This is true? You are not making a joke of me? You would take me as your apprentice?”
“If it is what you wish,” Tillu replied, confused by her intensity. The young woman let go of Tillu’s hands and sank slowly back on her heels.
“Ah!” she sighed slowly with quiet satisfaction. “We shall see what my father can say to me about marriage when I tell him this. We shall see.” Then, suddenly grabbing at Tillu’s sleeve again, she added urgently, “But not yet! We shall not tell him until we are closer to the Cataclysm. Not until after you have begun to teach me.”
Tillu did not understand Kari’s fierceness. “Yes. All right, I shall not tell anyone that you are my apprentice, until you wish to tell them. But as for teaching you, well, we have begun that already.” Stooping, Tillu took up the cleaned root and put it back into her apprentice’s hands.
Kari looked down on it. When she spoke again, her voice was thoughtful. “It is what you know, Tillu,
