Say Walah

36: Poison (Part 2)

I waited until nightfall before making my way to Abankiti, a pouch of cowries heavy at my waist. The herb woman's hut sat where forest met settlement, much like how she herself existed between worlds – not quite respectable, not quite outcast.

Nne Ogwu they called her. Mother of Medicines. But I knew her by a different name, one whispered in darker circles.

"The prince's son graces my humble home," she said before I could even knock. Her voice rasped like dry leaves. "Or should I say, the farmer?" A low chuckle. "Come in, come in. The shadows have ears tonight."

Inside, her hut smelled of a hundred herbs and a thousand secrets. Strings of dried things I couldn't identify hung from the ceiling, and somewhere in the darkness, something chittered.

"Your best student is losing someone dear to her," I said, settling on a low stool.

"Ah, the little weaver." Nne Ogwu's eyes gleamed in the dim light of her palm oil lamp. "The one who coughs blood now."

My hand tightened on the pouch of cowries. Of course she already knew. "Can you help?"

"Help is such a simple word for such a complex thing." She stirred something in a pot I couldn't see. "You want to know who poisoned her. You want to know how. You want to know why." She clicked her tongue. "Many questions. Many doors to open. Many palms to cross."

I placed the pouch on her mat. The clink of cowries seemed too loud in the close air of her hut. "Name your price."

She lifted the pouch, weighing it with practiced ease. "Interesting. This is more than I usually charge for such information."

"I'm paying for speed," I said, leaning forward. "Rimi grows worse by the day. Whatever you need to do, whoever you need to bribe – do it quickly."

"Ahh." She set the pouch down and really looked at me then, her ancient eyes seeing too much. "You care for them both, don't you? The healer and her little weaver. Found yourself a new family, have you, prince's son?"

I met her gaze steadily. "Will you help or not?"

She smiled, showing teeth stained dark from herbs. "I have eyes and ears everywhere. Little birds who sing to me of palace secrets. It will take time to sort through their songs, to find the true notes among the false ones."

"How long?"

"A while," she said, and seeing my expression darken, added quickly, "But for this price..." She patted the pouch of cowries, "I will make my birds sing faster. Much faster."

"And you'll send word as soon as—"

"As soon as I know anything of worth." She stood, a dismissal. "Now go. The little weaver needs tending, and Mairo needs rest. She's been awake too many nights."

I paused at her door. "How did you—"

"I taught that girl everything she knows about healing," Nne Ogwu interrupted. "But not everything I know about watching. Go. I will send word when I have something."

As I walked home through the darkness, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd just made a deal with a spirit rather than a woman. But deals with spirits, my royal father had once told me, sometimes brought the sweetest fruits.

Or the deadliest poisons.

Back at our compound, I found Mairo still awake, grinding herbs by lamplight. Rimi's cough echoed from the inner room, weaker than yesterday. We shared a look of understanding – whatever price I'd paid tonight, whatever dangers dealing with Nne Ogwu might bring, it would be worth it if we could save her.