Tallel's yurt is a sturdy thing, able to stand quite solidly through the ravages of a sandstorm - and without all the rocking such storms put a wagon through, to boot. The downside is that he has to beat out the canvas and sweep off the roof of the thing afterward. That having been accomplished about half a candlemark ago, the young Zingari wandered over to the water just several strides away from where he has his tent set up, cleaned up and cooled off. Now he sits on a flat red rock with his back against a squat palm, a few small pouches and jars near at hand as he works a mortar and pestle with the other, whistling quietly as he grinds some dried aconite into a powder.

While it might be a comfortable seventy six degrees in Igen, it's blistering hot in the oasis tucked away in the sands of teh Great Central Desert. The few Zingari that have dared the outsides of their wagons mill about doing chores in a slow, lazy sort of way. Willimina, sits outside her wagon, helping to peel tubers for their dinner. She wipes her forehead with her sleeve and looks around. She's sent Dinsayde back to the weyr to spy, and a few new Zingers had wandered in since then. She'd also sent an outrunner to find Wrenari. But, no luck on that front yet. She sighs and goes back to the tubers. It's not long before she's distracted by Tallel's job, and sits watching, half a peeled tuber in hand.

Pound, pound, pound. Scrape, scrape, scrape. Tallel's whistling matches the rhythm of his work - or perhaps it's the other way around. In short order, he has a mound of pale powder piled in the middle of his little stone bowl, and he carefully taps it into one of the jars sitting nearby. Happening to glance up, he spies Willimina watching him and cracks a grin at her as he wipes his hands on a clean rag. "Leader," he greets, pressing a hand to his chest as he gives a small bow as best he can while sitting. It looks funny, but he's never much cared about that. "Need any help with that?" he asks, gesturing to the tuber in her hand before rising and stepping over to rinse his hands in the water.

Willimina chuckles when Tallel addresses her. "Aye, some help would be nice." She watches him wash his hands in the water. "What are you grinding that for?" She asks, wondering if he is making pigment. She'd seen one of the harpers at Igen do this and found the process fascinating. She returns to peeling her tubers, sending the young caravan brat who'd been /half/ helping, off to do something else.

Tallel scrubs thoroughly at his hands and makes sure they're completely dry before sauntering over and squatting down by Willimina. "Medicine," he replies. "Monkshood, for irregular heartbeats, and sometimes joint ail. Don't want any of that to go with dinner, though." He holds up his hands and waggles his fingers and eyebrows both before grabbing up a tuber and pulling a thin knife from his belt. "Things feel a bit more settled now, aye?" he asks the woman, glancing around the camp as he pulls the knife along the vegetable to start ridding it of its skin.

Willimina nods. "Aye they do. We still aren't strong enough in health and number to return to the weyr." She peels the tuber in her hand with practiced ease. She looks around too, in between cuts, eyes filling with grief /and/ pride. "Hopefully soon. I have Dinsayde in Igen gathering supplies and news. My second in command has yet to return though…" She sighs. "How are the sick in the resident wagon?" She asks, knowing already, but wanting to hear anyway. Inside, withthe wet nurse, Lillia gives a weak, croaking cry that makes Willa wince. Nothing worse than a sick baby.

Tallel scrunches up his face a little, glancing over at Willimina. "Who's your second?" Has he even seen the man. "Why'd he run off at a time like this?" Impertinent, perhaps, is the question, but it's an honest one. To the question of those in the resident wagon, Tallel gives a small, hopeful smile. "Better. Auntie Mel's seeing to the worse ones, but a lot of them sound worse than they actually feel." The wince as Willimina overhears Lillia is met with a sympathetic look, and the young man lays a wiry hand on the caravan's leader's arm. "She'll pull through, Willimina. We'll make sure of it. She's one of the ones that sounds bad, too, but she's doing better."

"A smart mouthed clever man named Wrenari, I sent him off to visit the clans that didn't answer. He should have been back by now…" If she thought the question was impertinent, she gives no sign of it. She nods along at the report of the sick, sighing in relief. "Well, that's a relief, we lost so many before we figured out how to treat it…." She finishes skinning one tuber and moves on to the next. "I'm glad she seems to be making progress, I want to fall down weeping every time I hear her cry or cough. I've never done this before, raising a child, it's a difficul experience." Specially when one is on their own in the parenting.

Tallel lifts a hand and rakes his fingers through his hair. He's seventeen; the whole idea of being a parent isn't something he dwells on, exactly. Too much fun to be had before that happens! "I, uh…suppose doing all that even without the sick part would be hard, aye." Clearing his throat, he looks at Willimina, brown eyes earnest. "Was her papa one of the ones that…didn't pull through, before we got here?" he ventures carefully.

A look of deep grief crosses Willa's face. "He was murdered." She states quietly, hand going to the wedding rings hanging around her neck. AFter re-affirming their presence, she goes back to peeling. "During a robbery in Igen. And when we get back, I fully intend on tracking down his murderer." This last is said with vehemence. Her treatment of the tuber in her hand tells of her anger and need to avenge, the poor thing starts shrinking as she keeps peeling.

Brows knitting, Tallel sets a hand on Willimina's shoulder with a squeeze meant to comfort. "We'll honor his memory," the boy murmurs. He isn't surprised by the caravan leader's vehemence, but he does notice how she's going after the tuber and blinks. "Uh…I don't think there'll be much left for proper eating if you keep that up," he whispers with a cautious smirk, gesturing at the tuber with his knife.

Willimina looks down and almost laughs at herself, almost. She sets the diminished tuber with the already peeled ones and decides to go for choping the other vegitables. She grabs a thick wooden slab from beside her and balances it atop a wooden stool. Using her rage and grief as a tool, she begins chopping veggies and mincing herbs, doing her fair share of the work. Most will have noticed by now that unlike her father before her, who whored and drank himself to death, Willa got herself /involved/ with the chores at hand. "Thank you for the comforting words Tallel, it does me good to hear them." She looks over at him, as if trying to figure him out a little.

"It's what I'm good for!" Tallel returns with a rakish grin, happy to move on to brighter things. Continuing the peeling on his own, he watches Willimina get out the cutting board and start chopping. When she looks his way, he tilts his head a little. "I don't mind if you've got questions for me, y' know," he says, moving from his easy, limber squat to sitting cross-legged on the gravelly ground. "I know Auntie Mel and I just showed up and basically set right to work with the sick. People are healing now… There's time to learn of us." Not that he thinks Willimina wouldn't ask eventually; it's just that now seems as good a time as any.

Willimina smiles, a little bit of a blush staining her cheeks. She sets her knife down and crosses her legs, looking quizzically at the young Zingari healer. "Well, I know you're a healer." She smiles. "A fact that I am eternally greatful for. So, What's your performance skill?" She asks. "I dance." She offers first with a wide smile.

Tallel's eyes widen a little bit when Willimina blushes, and he clears his throat again. "Didn't mean to embarrass you," he murmurs, scratching his head. He sets his own knife down, though, and returns Willimina's smile. "I'm an illusionist," he answers. As though to drive the point home, he scoops up handful of sand from beside his right hip, rubs it together between both hands, and is suddenly holding up a small red desert flower. "Learned it from my mother and uncle," he says, holding it out to her. "I dance some, too. Not like Auntie Mel, though."

Willimina takes the flower with a smile. "That was a clever trick Tallel." At the notion that Tallel dances, she responds. "Well, if you ever want to practice, let me know. I don't get to dance enough these days." She keeps a soft smile on her lips as she tucks the flower behind her ear. She goes back to her chore. "Tell me about your clan." She continues chopping, but glances up briefly, chocolate orbs filled with curiosity.

"I, uh… I'll keep it in mind," Tallel replies with a bit of a nervous grin. Practice dancing with a girl? Who isn't related to him? Dancing with girls at parties and such, he can handle, but this idea is something he'd never considered before, apparently. The nervous part of his expression vanishes quickly when Willimina tucks his flower behind her ear, and he gets back to peeling. "We wander around the Telgar region," he says. "Mostly the Steppes. We have a lot of runners; that's one reason people would lay down marks to see us. Runner games and trick riding. Not my family, though. I come from a long line of healers for the clan, though the sleight of hand practice has been around with us for a while, too. And my cousins and I are pretty good pickpockets, too, but it's just for fun," he adds with a crooked smirk.

Willimina gives him a crooked smirk right back as she rinses the veggies she'd been chopping. "Ah…yes. Pickpocketing, a favorite game of the Zingari since we could walk." She smirks. She dumps the clean veggies into a large cauldron like pot, which she would have Timo lift over the fire soon. She takes the bowls of herbs she'd chopped and adds those too. A few other women and young ones bring over their own bowls of herbs, meat and veggies, dumping them in. The pot slowly begins to fill. Willa starts adding liquids, a large pot of stock she'd been cooking, a few other mysterious bottles. "I assume that was quite the upbringing in and of itself though." She glances up at Tallel again with a grin.

Tallel finishes peeling his tubers and glances around in search of a board of his own to use. Finding a smaller one, he sets about chopping up what he has and adds it to the pot as well, giving a Willimina a shrug for her last comment. "Guess so. I wanted to learn to trick ride, but my parents made me learn healing. It worked out better that way, though. Da tells me I have a knack for it. I help people be calm, like he does. I like being able to make people feel better." Slipping his knife back into his belt, he looks over toward his yurt. "I think I gave the clan the most grief insisting they let me live in a tent, though," he says, his smirk wry.

"You could still learn you know….one can never have too many skills." She whistles loudly at Timo who brings two with him to lift the pot over the fire. Willa cleans her hands on her apron and looks back up at Tallel's mention of his Yurt. She chuckles and comes to stand beside Tallel and stare at the Yurt. "I think it gives you personality." Willimina looks over and smiles. "Are you betrothed?" She asks, after all, it is her duty as Leader to know of betrothals and clan deals.

"Suppose I could. I'd need a different runner, though," Tallel says, grumbling a little through his observation. He loves his runner, but Salkhin was trained for long distance riding, not anything fancy. It took a few Turns for him to get completely used to hauling Tal's little wagon. Willimina's approval of his yurt earns a bright grin. "I'm glad you think so," he says, giving a little bow before leaning against the side of the nearby wagon, watching the caravan leader working at the pot. Her question has him pressing his lips together. "No… I was, of course. To a girl named Alai, but she died when we were both eight. My parents never rearranged anything for me."

"Lucky!" As soon as she says it she blushes furiously. "I mean obviouly not for her….or you …really. Uh, at least you'll get to choose." She blushes madly again and starts to clean up the mess from cleaning the veggies, feeling embarassed. She stows everything and tosses the refuse into a basket to be given to the animals later. "I'm sorry, that was rude of me." She looks up, hoping she gave no offense.

Tallel isn't offended - not in the slightest, but he is a bit puzzled by Willimina's blushing. "It's okay," he returns, his nose wrinkling a little as his expression becomes something not quite a smirk. "Her sister married my brother, so our families still ended up bound together, and they're both strong… I don't really remember her too well, to be honest." He scratches his head again, looking a bit awkward. "Getting to choose… I'm just not thinking about it too much right now." He gestures up at the wagon. "There's a lot to do here, and a lot to see out there."

Willimina nods. "Aye. I can certainly see where you are coming from there. I try not to think about it either, something Ethelinda and the other old aunties don;t approve of." She gives Tallel a wink. "But like you, I have more to do than worry about who I will copulate with for the rest of my life." She lets out a real laugh, one that goes all the way to her eyes.

At Willimina's laughter, Tallel grins, but also colors a bit. He's a teenage boy; it's a funny subject and cause for silly blushing. "Er…yes. Especially not now." Brown eyes flick back to his former perch on the rock by the water, where his grinding implements still lay. "I ought to clean up and go check on a few people. Is there anything else you need from me, Willimina?" he asks, pushing out of his lean.

Willimina chuckles and follows Tallel's gaze. "No, Tallel, you've been a good help already. I have to go check on Lillia anyhow." She tucks her hair behind her free ear. "It was nice chatting Tallel. Bring a report to me later, and let me know if you and your aunt need any supplies." She opens the door to her wagon to tell the young woman indside that she'll be along soon.

"Aye, it was," Tallel replies with a bow, "and I certainly will. Thank you, Willimina!" And with that, the young healer trots back over to his supplies, carefully gathering them up and securing them in a large leather satchel before stealing into the resident wagon for some check-ups.