“It is a puff adder,” said Dr. Mwata. “Look at this bit here—you can tell from that. See?”

Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni shuddered. “I am glad that he is no longer in his skin,” he said.

This remark appeared to amuse Dr. Mwata. “Yes, indeed. I have had to treat people for bites from these,” he said. “Very nasty. The venom kills tissues. You never fully recover from one of these bites. The muscle around the bite will always be in pretty bad shape. Even with treatment.” He dropped the skin, which floated down to the ground. He looked at Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni. “You ask whether I can do anything. Well, the answer is yes. I think so.”

Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni stood quite still. He was aware, though, that the wind had picked up and that the high purple clouds which he had seen in the distance were coming their way. But this was not a time to think about rain; this was a time to think about what the doctor had said. He could help. There was something he could do.

“You can help? You can perform an operation, Rra?”

Dr. Mwata shook his head. “We must get back to the house, Rra. No, I cannot perform an operation, but I do know of a place, a place in Johannesburg, where there are people who work with people who are paralysed. They work with them and see whether they can get the mind to tell the body to move. They could see her and try. I know them. I have sent people to them before and I have had good results.”

“They could walk?”

Dr. Mwata hesitated. “Yes. They were able to walk.”

“And Motholeli?”

“Maybe.” He was silent, licking the tip of a finger and holding it up into the wind. It was the sort of wind that preceded rain; stronger now, cooler. Suddenly he said, “Do you believe in miracles, Mr. Matekoni?”

Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni was tongue-tied. Did he believe in miracles? He was not sure. He had seen old engines start when he never thought they would; he had seen cars continue against all the mechanical odds. These were the miracles of the world of mechanics, but there was always a reason, a mechanical reason, to explain them. “I don’t think so,” he said.

The doctor seemed surprised. “But you want one to happen, don’t you?”

Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni thought about this. Did he want a miracle to happen? Of course he did. He gave his answer. “Yes.”

“And do you think miracles are free?” asked Dr. Mwata. He spoke quietly, and Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni almost did not hear him.

“Yes, surely…”

The doctor looked at him quizzically, and Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni realised that this was not the answer that he had expected.

“No. Maybe they aren’t free.”

Dr. Mwata seemed satisfied with this answer. “Precisely.”