Maria looked at the Brush Viper. 'Seronga, were the deacons still at the church when you arrived?'
'Yes,' Seronga replied.
'Where are they now?' she asked him.
Seronga wished there were time to explain what he had done. How this was a war and that lives are lost in war. How he needed information about Bishop Max and there was only one way to get it. How compassion would have cost them everything they had struggled to achieve.
He wished, most of all, that Dhamballa did not have to hear this.
'The missionaries are with their god,' Seronga replied.
'By your hand?' Dhamballa asked. His voice was a whisper. If disbelief had a sound, this was it.
'Yes,' Seronga said. 'We killed them. We had no choice.'
Dhamballa sat absolutely still. It was the posture of disbelief.
•*^
'Jesus wept,' Father Bradbury said. He made the sign of
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the cross, then tightly folded his bony fingers. 'How many more people have to die for this insane crusade?' he asked. His hands began to shake. He glared at Dhamballa. 'How can you call yourself a holy man when you allow things like this?'
'All religions kill!' Seronga yelled angrily. 'When oppression cannot be stopped with reason, what other course is there?'
'Patience,' Father Bradbury replied.
'For far too many years we were patient, priest,' Dhamballa said. 'But I did not want to advance our cause with the breath of the dying.'
'No! Yet you knew it could happen when you surrounded yourself with soldiers,' Seronga said. 'There is not one person here, not one faith or government represented, who has not advanced an idea by killing.'
The helicopter came lower, then hovered. A searchlight was turned on. They would spot the men in the boulders.
'Dhamballa, we must get you out of here,' Maria said urgently. 'You and the priest.'
'Yes, you must go,' Seronga agreed.
Dhamballa regarded his lieutenant. 'What will you do? Fight?'
'No,' he vowed. 'I will lead the helicopters away.'
'How?' Dhamballa asked.
'I don't have time to answer,' Seronga said. 'Maria, will you take them from here?'
'Yes,' she said.
The Brush Viper regarded Dhamballa. 'Sir, maybe we could have done things differently. All of us. Perhaps we took on too big a challenge. Or perhaps the faith was meant to stay underground. I don't know. But I do know one thing. You must continue what was very nearly begun here. You must carry it to others. You must live to speak of it.'
'And pray for us, sir,' Pavant added, his eyes on the sky. 'Please do that as well.'
Dhamballa nodded silently, sadly. 'I will do all of those things.' He looked at Seronga. 'In the end, we must consider the future, not the past.'
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Maria stepped around Seronga. She reached into the van, her hand extended toward Dhamballa. He hesitated. Then he accepted her hand and stepped into the night.
'I'll bring the Jeep around,' Battat said.
A gentle wind stirred from Seronga's left, from the west. It did not come from the rotor of the chopper. Dhamballa turned his face toward it. There was something poignant about the moment. The Vodun leader seemed to be saying good-bye and looking ahead at the same time.
Aideen took Father Bradbury by the arm and led him toward the Jeep. Pavant and Arrons left to join the other men. Only Maria was left. She turned her back on the men but did not leave.
Dhamballa kissed Seronga lightly on both cheeks. Then he pressed his left index and middle fingers to the Brush Viper's forehead. He drew the finger down along the bridge of Seronga's nose to his nostrils.
'May the gods look down and preserve you,' Dhamballa said. He put a palm over his own eyes. 'May they also forgive you.'
'Thank you,' Seronga said.
Dhamballa lowered his hand. He held it out, palm up, and exchanged a knowing look with Seronga. Then he turned and left with Maria. Seronga walked after Pavant. He stopped and turned back.
'Maria!' he shouted.
