From Chapter 1
We were high in the Andes and the night air was chilly, yet I was burning up with fever. I lay with my hot cheek against the stone-cold brick floor. There were books and blackboards around the edges of the room, and branches, herbs, stones, and water by the fire burning in the center--but I took none of this in at the time. I only knew that I needed help, and I somehow knew that the shaman was the one to help me.
After a time he began his healings. "Who wants to be first?" I heard Juan translate to the group. Despite my illness, my hand flew up with such determination that I astounded myself. I seemed to be led by an...