Daja and Gisco raise their hands, along with a couple of grease monkeys who were wandering by.
“How long have you been with him? Months? Years?”
Gisco and Daja look at each other.
“I don’t know,” she says. “Time is funny here. But I’d say a few months.”
Gisco nods in agreement.
“In all that time have you ever seen anything like that?”
Gisco mutters something like “Nuh,” and shakes his head.
Daja shakes hers, too.
“Never.”
“It’s a funny bugger, don’t you think?” says Johnny. “It keeps changing size and shape.”
Frederickson says, “More like a swarm than clouds.” He looks puzzled. “They don’t have locusts down here, do they? I hate those wiggling bastards.”
This chatter is pissing me off. I take a drink from the water bottle.
“I told you. There’s nothing alive out here.”
Doris shields her eyes and stares into the distance.
“I have to agree with Johnny. It’s more like a swarm of bees or flock of birds than storm clouds.”
Barbora says, “Maybe it’s a sign from God.”
“If it is he isn’t happy to see us,” I say. “Where’s the Magistrate’s telescope?”
“Your boyfriend has it,” says Wanuri.
“Wait here. I’m going to fucking settle this.”
Traven is copying symbols on the far side of the obelisk, so he doesn’t even see me take the spyglass. I bring it back to the others, holding it over my head like a war club.
I point to each of them.
“It’s not rain. It’s not locusts. It’s not sand. And it sure as shit isn’t the Almighty.”
Daja folds her arms.
“So, what is it?”
I extend the telescope and hold it up to my eye.
And just about piss myself.
“Where’s the Magistrate?”
Daja hears something in my voice.
“What’s wrong? What did you see?”
“Where’s the fucking Magistrate?” I yell.