Mia stood up again, and once again Susannah came forward and made her sit down. Hard, this time.

What? Susannah, you promised! The chap—

I’ll help you with the chap, Susannah replied grimly. She bent forward and picked up the red bag. The bag with the box inside it. And inside the box? The ghostwood box with UNFOUND written upon it in runes? She could feel a baleful pulse even through the layer of magical wood and cloth which hid it. Black Thirteen was in the bag. Mia had taken it through the door. And if it was the ball that opened the door, how could Eddie get to her now?

I did what I had to, Mia said nervously. It’s my baby, my chap, and every hand is against me now. Every hand but yours, and you only help me because you have to. Remember what I said … if ka wills, I said—

It was Detta Walker’s voice that replied. It was harsh and crude and brooked no argument. “I don’t give a shit bout ka,” she said, “and you bes be rememberin dat. You got problems, girl. Got a rug-monkey comin you don’t know what it is. Got folks say they’ll he’p you and you don’t know what dey are. Shit, you doan even know what a telephone is or where to find one. Now we goan sit here, and you’re goan tell me what happens next. We goan palaver, girl, and if you don’t play straight, we still be sittin here with these bags come nightfall and you can have your precious chap on this bench and wash him off in the fuckin fountain.”

The woman on the bench bared her teeth in a gruesome smile that was all Detta Walker.

“You care bout dat chap … and Susannah, she care a little bout dat chap … but I been mos’ly turned out of this body, and I … don’t … give a shit.”

A woman pushing a stroller (it looked as divinely lightweight as Susannah’s abandoned wheelchair) gave the woman on the bench a nervous glance and then pushed her own baby onward, so fast she was nearly running.

“So!” Detta said brightly. “It’s be purty out here, don’t you think? Good weather for talkin. You hear me, mamma?”

No reply from Mia, daughter of none and mother of one. Detta wasn’t put out of countenance; her grin widened.

“You hear me, all right; you hear me just fahn. So let’s us have a little chat. Let’s us palaver.”

STAVE: Commala-come-ko
Whatcha doin at my do’?
If you doan tell me now, my friend,
I’ll lay ya on de flo’.

RESPONSE: Commala-come fo’!
I can lay ya low!
The things I done to such as you
You never want to know.

5TH STANZA
THE TURTLE

ONE

Mia said: Talking will be easier—quicker and clearer, too—if we do it face-to-face.