Chapters (15)
- Chapter One—Bloody Mary
- Chapter Two—Wagon People
- Chapter Three—Spring House
- Chapter Four—Hatrack River
- Chapter Five—Caul
- Chapter Six—Ridgebeam
- Chapter Seven—Altar
- Chapter Eight—Visitor
- Chapter Nine—Taleswapper
- Chapter Ten—Visions
- Chapter Eleven—Millstone
- Chapter Twelve—Book
- Chapter Thirteen—Surgery
- Chapter Fourteen—Chastisement
- Chapter Fifteen—Promises
“They’d love you for it, all the folks you healed.”
“I reckon the first time was the hardest, and I wasn’t partickler strong when I done it. I bet I can do it faster on other people.”
“Maybe so. But even if you heal a hundred sick people every day, and move on to the next place and heal a hundred more, there’ll be ten thousand people die behind you, and ten thousand more ahead of you, and by the time you die, even the ones you healed will almost all be dead.”
Alvin turned his face away. “If I know how to fix them, then I got to fix them, Taleswapper.”
“Those you can, you must,” said Taleswapper. “But not as your life’s work. Bricks in the wall, Alvin, that’s all they’ll ever be. You can never catch up by repairing the crumbling bricks. Heal those who chance to fall under your hand, but your life’s work is deeper than that.”
“I know how to heal people. But I don’t know how to beat down the Un—the Unmaker. I don’t even know what it is.”
“As long as you’re the only one that can see him, though, you’re also the only one who has a hope of beating him.”
“Maybe.”
Another long silence. Taleswapper knew it was time to go.
“Wait.”
“I’ve got to leave now.”
Alvin caught at his sleeve. “Not yet.”
“Pretty soon.”
“At least—at least let me read what the others wrote.”
Taleswapper reached into his bag and pulled out the book pouch. “I can’t promise I’ll explain what they mean,” he said, sliding the book out of its waterproof cover.
Alvin quickly found the last, newest writings.
In his mother’s hand: “Vigor he push a log and he don die til the boy is bornd.”
In David’s hand: “A mil ston splits in two then it suks bak not a crak.”
In Cally’s hand: “A sevent sunn.”
Alvin looked up. “He ain’t talking about me, you know.”
“I know,” said Taleswapper.
Alvin looked back at the book. In his father’s hand: “He dont kil a boy cus a stranjer com in time.”
“What’s Pa talking about?” asked Alvin.
Taleswapper took the book from his hands and closed it. “Find a way to heal your leg,” he said. “There’s a lot more souls than you who need it to be strong. It’s not for yourself, remember?”