People of the Masks(122)
“Licorice,” Rumbler whispered.
“What?”
He looked up, and she could see the hollow ache that sparkled in his eyes. “The leaves or ground roots of the licorice plant will kill Shadow Spirits.”
Wren cocked her head. “Do you have any? In your Power bag, maybe?”
Rumbler shook his head. “No, I just carry the Great Three Spirits.”
Wren sat back and eased his finger down on top of her folded cape. “I’ve never heard of them. What are they?”
Puzzled reluctance crossed his round face. “I’m not supposed to say,” he murmured. “Among my people only the chosen are taught about the Great Three.”
“Like in a Healing Society? Do you have to go through a ritual before you can learn about them?”
Rumbler nodded. “Yes, and it’s very scary.” He lifted his hands and scrunched them so they resembled talons, then made a hideous face. “Monsters come from the underworlds and drag you down into the darkness at the center of Grandmother Earth’s belly. If you don’t get eaten by the strange creatures that live there, then you get to learn about plant Spirits.”
Sparks popped in the fire, and whirled upward toward the smoke hole. Wren said, “My grandfather used to see monsters in the underworld. What sorts of monsters did you see? Can you tell me, or is that secret, too?”
“I can tell you. We talk about Spirit journeys all the time,” he said in a low voice, “so people can understand their strange ways better.”
Wren leaned back against the boulder and crossed her legs at the ankles. “My grandfather once saw gigantic bats, the size of bears, in the underworld. He said they swooped down on galloping buffalo and sucked blood from their necks. A big flock of those bats chased him from the underworld, diving and squealing at him the whole way. I heard that story for the first time in my third winter, and it scared the liver out of me. That night, I pulled my blanket around my neck so tightly I almost suffocated. Did you ever see those bats?”
“No,” Rumbler said with wide eyes. “But I’ve seen snakes with wings, and trees with human legs. Everything down there is either trying to trample you or bite you. The worst monsters are all teeth. They slide around on their chins with their fangs bared.” He demonstrated, thrusting his jaw forward and gnashing his teeth.
Wren lowered her brows. “I always thought I might want to be a Healer, but maybe not:”
Rumbler looked at his hands, then at her. “You would be a great Healer, Wren. Look what you did for my fingers. Most of them are almost well.”
She smiled shyly at the praise. “I’ve always liked Healing people. That’s why I would like to know what the Great Three are, in case I need them to save someone’s life in the future. But I don’t want to go against your society’s Teachings. That wouldn’t be right.”
“I’ll tell you,” Rumbler said softly, and lowered his gaze to his hands. “Because you want to be a Healer. And—and because I want to tell you.”
Wren could see in his face that he thought it might be a small way of repaying her for taking care of him. His smile brushed her souls like pure white feathers. “I won’t tell anyone, Rumbler. I promise.”
He nodded, and took a breath. “The Great Three are papaw seeds, yew needles, and the leaves of mountain laurel.”
“What do the Spirits cure?”
Rumbler slid closer to her, and the wavering firelight threw his shadow over the boulder like a prancing Earth Spirit. “These are dangerous Spirits, Wren. If you don’t treat them with respect, they will kill you.”
“I promise not to touch them, Rumbler. I just want to know what they do.”
Rumbler wet his chapped lips, and whispered, “You can touch them if you want to. I know you wouldn’t use the plants for bad things, Wren.” After a brief hesitation, he continued. “You already know about the Papaw Spirit, that the seeds ease pain. But the leaves are also good in poultices. You can apply the poultice to an abscess and it will start going down immediately.” His gaze darted around the firelit shelter while he thought. “The Yew Spirit cures fevers, and pain in the joints. It also helps to expel afterbirth. The last is the Mountain Laurel Spirit. She is also the most Powerful of all, Wren. I knew a man once who was out gathering the leaves and accidentally got some of the honey from the flowers on his fingers. He must have touched his mouth before he washed his hands. He made it back to the village, but he died horribly.”
The serious look on Rumbler’s face fascinated Wren. At times like this he stirred a sensation of awe in her chest—and a little fear. The deep dark wells of his eyes had gone black and shiny.