"You are as gracious as you are beautiful," Mr. Bones said. He was wearing his full regalia, though his staff had been redecorated recently. Fresh ribbons had been added, and fresh bones. He glanced up at the restaurant's artfully painted sign. Teddy Tumtum was peering over the lip of Peez's carry-on bag and misinterpreted what was really just a casual action.
"Sheesh! What's it gonna take, someone dropping an anvil on your head?" he hissed at her. "Mark my words, you buy the old guy a decent meal and he'll forget all about any promises he made to your brother!"
Before the bear could add any further tidbits of counsel, Mr. Bones stuck his staff under Teddy Tumtum's fuzzy chin in the manner of Errol Flynn playing sword tricks and lifted the unruly toy out of the bag. Teddy Tumtum described a small midair arc that ended when Mr. Bones caught him in his free hand.
"What is it with you people?" Teddy Tumtum complained. "Is this National Bear- Tossing Week or what? If I'm gonna spend this much time in flight, at least give me a bag of peanuts!"
"Petit ours, I am not sure I like you," Mr. Bones said, smiling. "I am thinking that if this gracious lady feels the same way, I might offer to trade her my support for your fat little body. Perhaps you will become the first of a new style in voodoo dolls, hein?"
Teddy Tumtum let out a squeak of terror so piteous that Peez snatched him out of Mr. Bones' grasp and was already glaring daggers at the man before she realized that he was only joking. Embarrassed, she smiled shyly and said, "As you can see, monsieur, I do not feel the same way about Teddy Tumtum as you do. He's been with me a long, long time. Believe it or not, I love him."
"Ah, well! If it is love then there is certainly no accounting for it. I am willing to believe anything where love is involved."
"Then I hope you'll believe me when I say that even though you've pledged your support to my brother, you and I may still have business."
"Is that so?" Mr. Bones adjusted the angle of his top hat and looked interested. "What manner of business might that be?"
"The business of learning," Peez said.
"Learning? Do I look like a schoolteacher, ma fille?" Mr. Bones was enjoying this.
"No, but you do look like a guide."
"A guide, a guide ..." The old man twiddled his fingers as if his staff were a flute. "And where do you propose I lead you, if I am in truth a guide? Which path do you need to follow? Where do you wish to go?"
Peez tucked Teddy Tumtum into her carryon and said, "Why don't I tell you that after lunch?"
* * *
In the back room of Au Roi Gris-Gris, Aurore served coffee. She was wearing the outfit she used to please the tourists, though instead of her tignon she had a telephone headset. While she filled the cups and passed Peez a tray of pastries, she carried on a spirited exchange with the person on the other end of the call, most likely a broker. A vocabulary that was pure Wall Street Journalese coupled with fluent Fortune magazine rattled from Aurore's lips as she shuffled portfolios without spilling a drop of coffee or a crumb of cake. It was a relief to both Peez and Mr. Bones when she finally left them alone and peace returned.
"Well now," Mr. Bones said. "Now that we are fed and settled, will you tell me what you wish from me?"
Peez sipped her coffee. "I wish to learn about the path you've taken, Mr. Bones," she said. "I know what the company printouts say: You're a voodoo priest. But what does it mean?"
"What do you think it means?" was Mr. Bones' canny reply.
"You play drums, dance around a fire, and stick pins in dolls to hurt your enemies," Peez said coldly. "Oh wait, no, that's what you think I think it means. I came to you looking for answers, not a fencing match."
"Really? I thought you came here to court my backing for the takeover of E. Godz, Inc."
"I did, except you told me you've already given that to my brother. Before, that would have annoyed the hell out of me. I'd've brought every trick in the book to bear on you, trying to get you to change your mind. Now I know better. I'm not the only one in this world with freedom of choice. Even when the choice others make doesn't suit my own wishes, I've still got to respect their right to it."
"This all sounds very fine," Mr. Bones said, rubbing his chin.
"Oh, she means every word of it." Teddy Tumtum's voice echoed out of the carry-on bag. "Let me tell you, this girl's gone through some changes, and I've got the scorpion eggs in my butt to prove it! If she says that it's cool with her that you're backing Dov, you can believe it."
"Is it so?" Mr. Bones leaned forward in his chair and looked deeply into Peez's eyes. "Yes, yes, I see that it is," he said when at last he sat back again. "You are one who seeks true answers. My faith, my practices, would actually be something real to you, and not just a source of photographs or cheap souvenirs to take home to your friends."
"What friends?" Teddy Tumtum put in. Mr. Bones shot an ugly look into the carryon, but Peez just laughed.
"He's right, you know," she said. "I have business acquaintances, but no friends."
"Can you not have both?" Mr. Bones patted her hand. "You have asked me to tell you about what it is I do, the path I have chosen to follow. It is a path that begins deep in the Mother Country, in Africa. Black men stole black men and women in the tribal wars and brought them to the black and brown men from the lands of mosque and minaret. These slave traders in turn took them to the coast, put them into the hands of men who make their prayers in churches. At last, after long days and nights of suffering, these poor stolen souls crossed the ocean to this side of the world and were put up on the auction block for sale. They were stripped of their clothes, of their families, of their freedom, even of their names. What more could be taken from them?" He sagged in his chair, closed his eyes, and wearily said: "Only their gods."
"Oh, come off it!" Teddy Tumtum said, hauling himself to the top of the carry-on bag and holding onto one of the handles. "That's one thing no one can take from you."
"Is that what you think, petit?" Mr. Bones' smile was sad. "But you would: You have only fluff for brains. Soft words may make some people turn from one faith to another, but the sword and the whip and the fire work more quickly. When my ancestors came here and tried to hold on to the one thing that had not been ripped from their hands, they were told that worshipping our gods and our ancestors was ignorant, primitive, evil! They were punished for it—for the good of their eternal souls, they were told. That was how they came to learn that your eternal soul is only another way of saying your owner's peace of mind."
"The slaveowners were afraid of their slaves?" This was news to Teddy Tumtum.
Mr. Bones nodded. "They told themselves that they had done us a great favor by bringing us to this land, feeding us, clothing us according to their ideas of decency. They were sincerely puzzled by our failure to be thankful for all these blessings. Our ingratitude was just one further proof of our savage nature, and no wise man trusts savages who whisper behind his back, keep secrets, perform obscure rites where blood is shed. The whispers may be about him, the secrets may be plots, the spilled blood may shortly be his own!"
"Whoa. Not too paranoid, huh?" The bear dropped over the side of the bag and tugged on Peez's skirt until she picked him up and put him in her lap where he could get a better view of Mr. Bones.
"I don't think it's paranoia if they really are out to get you," Peez said, absently stroking his fur. A few leftover grains of Arizona desert sand pattered to the floor. "It's just that the owners thought their slaves were out to get them for no good reason. They didn't think they'd done anything wrong. Since when is paying a fair price for farm equipment and domestic appliances a crime? That's how they saw it, anyhow."