The Land Across
“That sticks in my memory, and I always want to laugh. Sometimes I do. It is the kind of nervous laugh that comes when I have a really close call but do not get hurt.
When the waiter had gone, Papa uncovered it and bent over the hand looking at the tattoos. “This is no curse.” He pointed to the writing in the palm. “It is a spell to find treasure, first in Greek and after in Latin but the same. Here on the thumb, a prayer to Haaiah. It is very short.”
Naala said, “He is a demon?”
Papa Zenon shook his head, hard. “Three times no. Haaiah is an angel, an angel most honored. The supplicant asks that the strangers become new friends. Nothing is in this prayer I myself would not say on my knees.”
Naala looked like I felt.
“Here.” He squinted at the fine writing on the index finger. “It begs Lamach for peace.” He read the prayer to us in Greek, but I do not remember the words well enough to quote them.
“Another angel?” Naala asked.
“Indeed yes, the guardian of Mars.”
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