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The Magistrate turns to me. “Of course. While I have some facility with languages—”
“No shit.”
“—he is an expert in ancient mystical tongues that even I am not acquainted with.”
“Then let’s fucking get him out here and be on our way,” shouts Johnny.
Daja walks over and gets right in his face.
“Not. Another. Word. I mean it.”
He holds up a hand and makes a gesture by his mouth like he’s turning a lock.
“All in good time,” the Magistrate says. “You have noticed the tension among the havoc. We will bring the father out here quietly and at a discreet hour. Should anything go wrong—if, for instance, he does not have the proper reference books or needs time with a proper translation—we will deal with it among ourselves and no one else. We must do nothing to further damage morale. Does everyone understand?”
We nod and grunt grudging affirmatives.
“Good. When we return to the havoc we will smile. We will be cheerful and optimistic. But we will reveal nothing else for now. Leave all revelations to me.”
Everybody agrees, but it’s a bullshit plan.
I say, “Shouldn’t we give them something? Otherwise they’re going to be suspicious.”
“I hate to admit it,” says Wanuri, “but he’s right. There’s bad talk around camp. That we’re lost. That the crusade itself is a kind of punishment.”
The Magistrate thinks about it for a second, then says, “Since you brought it up, do you have any bright ideas, Mr. Pitts?”
I point back the way we came.
“In one of those towns we passed, there was a roadside store. Let’s see if there’s anything left. It isn’t much, but everyone likes candy and presents.”
“That’s pretty fucking optimistic of you,” say
s Daja.
“I know. Maybe the place is picked clean. Maybe there was never anything at all. But it’s worth a look.”
“Indeed it is,” the Magistrate says. “And since you noticed the shop, you will lead us there.”
“Okay.”
Fuck. There better be something there. M&M’s. A pecan log. Some goddamn bubble gum. Anything.
The Magistrate gets back in the car with Gisco and yells, “‘Lay on, Macduff, and damned be him who first cries “Hold!”’”
“What?”
“It’s a line from Macbeth.”
“What does it mean?”
He beams at me.
“It means lead the way, Mr. Pitts, to sweets and glory.”
Wanuri shakes her head. Johnny gives me a “don’t blow this” smile. Doris winks. Gisco gives me a thumbs-up.
I don’t bother looking at Daja.
