Chapter 8. The Medicine Woman

The medicine woman’s hut was on the far side of the village. Three shrunken heads dangled outside the door next to a bubbling cauldron.

“Gulliver...those heads, they’re made with real magic,” Andromeda said. Gulliver could hear the concern in her voice.

“We have wands. I’m not worried about it,” he responded.

“Think of your wards Gulliver. Once you create them, they don’t need a wand. They are powerful, and you use them by sheer force of will. This is just like that, only she didn’t use a wand to create those,” Andromeda said, lips tight with concern.

“It’s three shrunken heads,” Gulliver said. “What can they do?”

“Shrunken heads house the vengeful spirit of an enemy, giving you power over the spirit. She has three,” Andromeda said.

“So?” Gulliver asked.

“This magic isn’t from Africa Gulliver, it’s from the Americas. Most modern practitioners are voodoo witch doctors. You said in your notes that no one from this tribe had ever left except to go to market. It seems at the market she picked up a few tricks,” Andromeda said solemnly.

“Andy, it’s not any different than our magic, it’s just packaged differently. Ours comes from a wand tip and is more concentrated,” Gulliver rebutted. “That’s why the wand is the best fulcrum. Besides, it wasn't here before, I doubt she knows how to use it.”

“First, that may be true of other forms of magic, but it isn’t true of voodoo. Second, aren’t you trained with a staff? Didn’t you make your own? Staves can beat a wand in all out combat,” she said. “Third, you said The Shadow...” Gulliver stopped listening, he felt dizzy and fell to his knees. “Sorry,” Andromeda said, helping him up. “Drink.” she popped the lid from Gulliver’s waterskin and put it to his lips. He swallowed four large gulps. It cleared the dizziness like morning dew before the sun.

“I’m...I’m okay, it’s okay. Thank you,” Gulliver said, catching his breath as he threw his arm around Andromeda. A new spinning came, Gulliver was quite sure it was the alcohol which was the perpetrator. He looked down at Andromeda. She stared back up into his eyes. Her eyes were such a vibrant green, the soft rosey blush of her cheek, her lips were...he looked away, suppressing the line of thought.

“You said Bokamoso was a human. What if this woman used her voodoo to endow Bokamoso with power?” Andromeda asked. “There are records of it Gulliver, don’t look at me like that.”

Completely unaware he had been looking at her any such way, Gulliver straightened up and stepped forward. He reached into his pouch and pulled out a magic suppression ward and loaded it into his wand. “This one shuts down all magic in twenty paces for two hours. If things go south I’ll shoot it out, then I’ll knock out the old woman myself,” he said.

Andromeda sighed and said, “Alright, let’s see what happens.”

Gulliver led the way up to the hut. “Recludo,” he said, pointing his wand at the door. It sat for a moment, then clicked open. “There’s never a pause with that spell,” he said, looking at Andromeda. She narrowed her eyes then stepped through the now open door. Gulliver followed.

The inside of the hut was full of shelves, littered with all types of artifacts. There was a small jade statue of a bald fat man whose eyes seemed to follow Gulliver. A severed hand hung from the ceiling, with a saucer placed beneath it, collecting a black tar-like substance that reminded Gulliver of a demon. On one of the walls was the stuffed head of a hyena, with the web of a tiny black spider in its mouth. Gulliver stood in a dark patch of the room, while Andromeda stood behind a bookshelf, laden with books made from animal hide.

The two stewards stood in absolute silence for the better part of an hour waiting for the old woman. The patter of footsteps and voices returned to the village, people walking by the old hut resuming their day to day jobs. A man's voice came particularly close to the door, saying, “It was a beautiful funeral. She loved the rain, and it rained on the sea, but the land was dry. Everyone took only a few minutes of their day, just as she wanted.”

“Yes,” said a rich, deep woman's voice. “The fishermen say they will take her to where Bokamoso used to fish. She said she lost him in life, but will find him in death.” Her words were heavily accented, but easy to understand.

“She always loved that boy,” the man said. “A kinder pair I never knew.”

“Yes, well I have guests, I must be moving along now,” the woman said.

“Good day,” the man said.

The latch of the wooden door rustled for a moment, before it opened with a creak. In strode a woman, short and round, with a tremendous mole on her right nostril. She wore a large ring on each hand, one with a white opal, the other a red ruby.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting so long. It was almost two hours ago you created your portal and came here,” she said. “You may call me Imani, the Healer of Vis.”

“You’re a magician,” Gulliver said. “Why didn’t you tell me when I came here last?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a steward?” the old woman responded. “How was I to know you were a magician?”

“Was that Bokamosa’s mother? And where is Kokorum?” Gulliver asked.

The old woman stared at him, eyes flashing with anger. She took a deep breath and turned to a small kettle. She took a small sip from the kettle, her eyes widened, and she spit it on the floor in disgust. “Old and bitter,” she mumbled to herself. She poured the rest of the liquid out of a small hatch on the side of her hut then slammed it closed.

“Her name is Jamila. Mother of Bokamoso was one of her many titles. Calling her that insinuates that it is her only title worth mentioning,” she said, glaring at Gulliver. “Our women are not defined by their children. She was a caregiver, she was a beautifier, and she was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Her beauty took sailers breath away, including Bokamosa’s father. Most importantly, she was my friend and daughter,” she finished sternly. “May I interest you in some tea?” she added, contempt still in her voice.

“No thank you,” said Gulliver, somewhat abashed.

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“Yes please,” said Andromeda. Gulliver flashed a hand signal to her which caused the old woman to rush up to him and grab his fingers faster than he could react.

“There is no poison in this thank you very much!” she snarled in his face. “If I wanted you dead, I’d have laid a trap. Further, it’s rude to speak another language in front of someone who doesn’t know it. You’re lucky I do know it or this kettle would have found the backside of your head!” Gulliver realized his mouth was gaping and closed it with a snap.

“I’d take a cup of tea,” he found himself saying. He didn’t believe this woman wanted to hurt either of them.

“Well sit down! Sit down! It won’t be said that old Imani was not hospitable.”

Andromeda made a very ‘told you so’ face at Gulliver before saying, “May I help with the tea?”

Turning her whole body, she looked at Andromeda appraisingly, like a wolf deciding whether or not to snap at one of its pups. “You’re kind. Good. We need more of your sort in the world. Just the same, I don’t need help making tea. Here we offer help only if we think the other cannot do the task on their own. It is considered an insult to offer help if the other does not need it. Remember that.”

Andromeda cracked a grin, “Yes Imani. Thank you. Where we are from it’s considered rude to point out rudeness in others.”

“So then wouldn’t it be rude to point out my rudeness?” Imani said back.

“If we were in the stewards headquarters, then it would indeed be rude, but as we are in your home, and as you just did point out my rudeness, I must assume it is not.” Andromeda flashed Imani another little grin.

“You damn girl! I like you!” cackled the old woman. “There’s honey in a jar on the shelf behind you. Bring it over and spoon it into the cups. It’s dark because the bees are africanized,” she said in a tone that was much more familiar than before. “It’s safe!” she shot at Gulliver seeing the look of concern on his face.

As she walked by Gulliver she stopped, sniffing the air. She continued to sniff the air, following an invisible trail back to Gulliver’s mouth. “Are you drunk boy? What’s in your pouch?” she barked. She snatched his waterskin, popped the top off, and took a sip. Her eyes widened in surprise, then she smiled at him.

He pulled the skin from her grip and said, “You’re a magician, you’re under our jurisdiction. We have questions for you.”

“That’s some stiff cider,” she said, smiling as she went back to work on the tea. “Best I’ve ever had. Tastes a lot like old Higginbotham used to make. Now that was a steward! Heard his kid died. You ever hear of ole’ Holden Higginbotham? I wonder if he’s still alive.”

“He is. And he’s my grandfather,” Gulliver said.

The plump old witch looked at him and said, “He’s more than just your grandfather. He’s a war hero. Stopped Yang in his tracks in a duel on the waters! What a man!” She started fanning the spoon she was holding as her cheeks flushed and stared into space. She came back to herself and said “Anyways! You need to lay off the cider! If I had set a trap you’d need your wits about you!”

Gulliver looked to Andromeda, who shrugged, facial expression saying “What can we do, it’s her house?”

“Bokamoso, you knew him?” Gulliver asked. “Was he your grandson?” he added, softening his tone.

“That I did. The kind young man always had the fairest prices,” Imani responded. “We’ve already had this conversation when you were here last though, so I assume you’re asking if I knew he was using magic.”

“Yes,” said Andromeda. “You’re aware that a human can perform some magic through certain rituals I’m sure.”

Imani nodded her head as she crushed several small seeds with her bare hands. They ignited into a small flame which she set onto a stone slab that Gulliver couldn’t remember being there when they came in. She set the kettle down into the fire, then took a dried plant hanging from above where she stood and pulled off several leaves. She dropped a few leaves into each of the three cups, then sat heavily onto a large cushion.

“You’re going to get to the part where you say he’s a human who used magic, and then ask me if I used my magic to give him that supernatural power,” Imani said. “No, I didn’t give him magic. No, he didn’t always use magic. He didn’t even know it existed. Well, beyond me turning rocks into a cake for him and Jamila on his birthday each year.”

“Performing magic in front of a human is a section one offense,” Andromeda said, matter of factly.

“I don’t know what that means, don’t care either. If Zedekiah has a problem with it, he can come down here and ask me to forgive him for assuming he had a say in how I run my village,” Imani said.

“You know the wizen?” Gulliver asked.

Imani let out a hoarse laugh, then she kept laughing. “Wizen!” she exclaimed. “He chose that name? A man best not find himself taking a wiz into the wind, or he’ll be wizen on himself!” she cackled as she slapped her knee. “Oh, oh,” she said, trying to regain composure. “Alright, Bokamoso,” she added, as though trying to refocus herself. “Bokamoso’s magic. He didn’t always have it, and I saw him use it, and it’s more power than I could give. What else did you need to know?” The kettle began to whistle and she poured water into each of the three cups. She handed one to Andromeda, then took a sip of one while looking at Gulliver. “See, not poison.”

Gulliver reluctantly took the cup and said, “What do you know about Kokorum?” He took a sip of the tea as the sound of rain dancing merrily on the roof began. He could feel the trickle, tiny splashes breaking against the branches that made the modestly sized roof. Imani rose and opened the hatch on the side of her hut. Gulliver could see rainfall, wettening the once dry ground outside.

“I like the way the color of the ground changes when the rain starts, when the sky weeps upon the earth. ‘With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,’” Gulliver said.

“Shakespeare!” said Andromeda.

“The smell of rain!” said Imani. “Life, death, rebirth. We are all a part of it. Magic is a convenient tool, enabling us to be lazy, but it stretches our lives. Letting us see more of the cycle. Letting us see more life. Magic is nothing compared to the beauty that is life. The great God gave himself so that we could live. And instead of enjoying the beauty, we fight wars, we kill each other. How much blood was spilled by The Shadow in the name of a greater good?” she added, pain in her voice.

Gulliver took another drink of his tea before asking, “You knew what he was doing then?” The cool air from the window hit him, sending tingles through his body. He looked at his hand holding the cup and could see the hairs standing up on the back of it. Perhaps Imani was right, life was more than just a series of tasks; more than just a series of events. All those muscles in his hands and arms, making the hairs stand up, giving him goosebumps; it was incredible.

“I knew what he was doing,” Imani said. “He saved the world you know. Him and Bif together.”

“Bif,” Gulliver said fondly. Gulliver had loved Bif like a brother. He hadn’t admitted it to anyone but himself, but Bif helped Gulliver through some dark times. “You’re missing something,” Gulliver said to Imani. “Love. It’s all built around love.” He looked at Andromeda, into her green eyes; the flecks of amber, brown and blue were scattered throughout. He could stare into them for the rest of his life and feel not a moment wasted.

“Love, yes it is I suppose,” Imani said. She raised her cup and said, “To love! May it be the catch of the day and the warmth of the night!” She finished her tea, and Gulliver and Andromeda did so in kind. He sat his cup hard on the table, the breeze from the hatch sending shivers down his spine. He looked at Andromeda and she stared back at him.

“I broke up with Garen,” she said, looking into Gulliver's soul. He could feel her, longing for him. He stepped forward to embrace her, to kiss her, to love her, but his feet didn’t want to move. So, instead of walking, he fell hard onto the floor. He rolled and looked up at Andromeda who was swaying precariously.

Imani bustled to her side and took her by the arm and sat her down on the cushion. “There there dear, he meant to kiss you, not the floor. It’s the tea that stopped him.”

“Poison,” Gulliver said, flinching as the room spun around him.

“No no no, I told you, if I wanted to kill you I’d have set a trap. I didn’t poison you, I did, however, drug you,” Imani said. She layed a now unconscious Andromeda gently onto the rest of the cushion.

“Now, Gulliver, grandson of Holden, sleep.” She put her hand gently onto his head and the light from the room faded to darkness.