the advantage.
Not only was his initial sorting and grading of the plants nearly perfect in his mother’s opinion, but he also spotted problems with some of the herbs that escaped her attention entirely.
“What’s wrong with this mint?” asked Erisa, picking up a small bundle he had set aside for the discard pile.
Will looked at it again. “Root fungus,” he answered after a moment. “The leaves look all right, but they won’t taste good.”
His mother gave him an odd look. “Did you check it?”
He shook his head. “No, but I’m sure.”
She plucked a few leaves and chewed them before making a sour face. “You’re right,” she admitted. “How did you know?”
Will wasn’t sure how to answer that. To his eyes, the plant in her hands looked almost identical to the healthy ones, but when he concentrated, he could see something else, a faint, sickly glow. It was like a different color, but it wasn’t really a color, and he was at a loss to describe it. All the plants displayed new colors to him now, but they weren’t colors he could see with his eyes. It was as though he had discovered a new form of light, one that came from within them, providing information about their health and properties that he was unable to explain. Trying to tell his mother how he knew was like trying to describe a painting to a blind man.
“I’m not sure,” he answered finally. “I could just tell.”
Erisa looked at him curiously. “Is there anything you aren’t telling me?” When he didn’t say anything, she continued, “I know this is a confusing time for you. You’re about to turn thirteen and your body is going through a lot of changes. You can talk to me—about whatever, whether it’s physical changes, or strange new feelings—”
“Mom!” Will interrupted. “Please, stop. It’s nothing like that.” And I wouldn’t tell you if it was, he thought silently.
His mother pursed her lips. Then she changed topics, “If you’re done with the mint, you can check over the yarrow and pennyroyal. I want to finish this today. Tomorrow I’ll go into the village and see if the spirits I ordered have arrived. If so, we can start making tinctures.”
“Why do they call them ‘spirits’ anyway?” asked Will. “Isn’t it just alcohol?”
Erisa smiled. “The alcohol people drink is more than half water. For tinctures, I need something closer to pure alcohol, and that isn’t easy to get. It requires a special process to make.”
“Why don’t we make our own then?” he queried. “It would save a lot of money.”
She sighed. “If I could afford distillation equipment, I would just make spirits and sell those. Better still I’d make essential oils—those fetch an even higher price—but the copper and glassware costs more than our home.”
“But you know how it’s done?”
Erisa shrugged, and her eyes stared into the distance. “I’ve seen it done. My teacher had the equipment.”
“Who was your teacher?”
That question brought her back from her reverie, and her eyes narrowed as she turned her gaze on him, as though she suspected him of having an ulterior motive for asking. Will kept his face smooth and tried to look innocent. After a few seconds she answered, “My great-grandfather.”
Something felt off about her answer, though whether it was a half-truth or an outright lie, Will couldn’t be sure. He accepted her words, though, for he had the distinct feeling she would react badly if he pushed her for a better answer. More secrets, he thought. What is she hiding from me?
Swallowing his questions, he went about checking the yarrow and pennyroyal, but it still bothered him. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. If he couldn’t expect the truth from his own mother, who could he expect it from?
He hurried through the rest of the herbs and then excused himself. He needed a walk to clear his head. The brisk autumn breeze cooled his cheeks and did in fact make him feel better, but no sooner than he had stepped outside he felt a prickly sensation down the back of his neck.
It wasn’t a new feeling, and if he hadn’t known better, he would have thought someone was watching him. Will glanced around at the bushes and trees surrounding his home, but he couldn’t find any obvious cause for his suspicion.
“Between that strange old man and my mother, I’m starting to imagine things,” he told himself, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it.
Will decided to visit his cousin, Eric.