“So, is it hopeless? What do we tell him, Maurício?”
Maurício suddenly looked much older than usual. “I don’t know. It does seem hopeless. If I think of something, I will let you know. In the meantime, all I can do is say that we will pray that they are safe, and that if we learn anything about their whereabouts, we will tell him right away.”
“That seems so . . . ineffectual.”
Maurício shrugged.
“Wait,” said Maria. “If he can provide a good enough description, I can draw them. Then you and he can show the drawings around, see if anyone knows more. And at worst, perhaps the drawings will give him some comfort.”
Maurício explained what Maria wanted to do. Maria didn’t want to waste her precious paper, so she drew on a piece of slate. It was easier to erase that way, too. She decided to try to draw the boy first, guessing that his features would be similar to, but younger than, his father’s. She erased a line here and added a curve there until the father seemed satisfied.
Then she pulled out a second slate, duplicated the boy’s picture, and then had Maurício find out what needed to be changed for it to represent the girl. That took quite a bit more give and take, but at last it was done.
Then she made a copy to paper of the images of the boy and girl, for Maurício, and gave the slates to the Coromantee. She had plenty of slate from one of her expeditions upriver.
“I hope this helps,” said Maria.
* * *
The Coromantee reverently set down the slates. He had been pleasantly surprised to discover that one of the whites was a tindana, a priestess of the Earth Goddess. Who else would place a magical incantation on a rock?
Now she had blessed him with a talisman by which he could speak to his children. Perhaps even call them back to him.
He had almost lost hope, had contemplated walking into the Great Sea.
He wondered how he could possibly repay her.
* * *
“Blue or red?” said Johann Mueller, spreading his hands, each pointing at a different pile of beads.
The young Eboe woman reached slowly toward a blue bead, then jerked her hand back. Two Eboe matrons, baskets on top of their heads, watched the interplay. Johann had no idea what they were saying, but he fancied they were placing bets on which color his customer would settle on.
Business had been good. The Eboe were very fond of beads. Both men and women were accustomed to wearing beaded necklaces. Since they had come to the New World as slaves, they had only whatever they had been wearing when they were sold to European slavers. And once they were freed, they wanted to adorn themselves, to distinguish themselves from their companions.
To buy beads, or anything else, they needed something to trade. And that meant that they needed to fish, hunt, grow crops, mine, or craft artifacts. Either on their own account, or as contract labor. Samuel Johnson’s epigram—about liberty being the choice of working or starving—was known only in countries exposed to up-time literature, but the Africans were quick to appreciate the limits of the liberty the Gustavans had conferred upon them.
Of course, thought Johann, they were no worse off than the Gustavans in that regard. It was fortunate that the slave ship still had several months’ supply of food. Better yet, they had seeds to plant. Maurício had told Johann that there was an Eboe insult, “I bet you even eat your yam seeds.” The colonists had supplied water, and they had made and sold farm implements to the Africans, but they were expecting a return.
“Hello, Johann, how’s business?” asked Maurício.
Johann jumped. If Johann were a superstitious man, he might worry that his thoughts had summoned Maurício.
“Fine, fine. Would you ask this young lady whether she has made up her mind?” Maurício did so. She ended up trading for an equal number of both colors.
Maurício walked over to the watching women. He held up the drawings Maria had made. “Did you see these Coromantee children before you boarded the giant canoe with the white wings?” That was, more or less, the proper way to describe a European sailing ship.
They shook their heads.
He heard a cough behind him. He turned, and saw Heinrich Bender. “Teach me some Portuguese, Maurício. I need to be able to bargain with the blacks.”
“What do you want to know?”
Heinrich smiled. “You can start with ‘How much?’ and ‘Too much.’”
Maurício laughed. “I should start a school.”
“You should, Maurício. You’ve been teaching Portuguese to Maria, I know, so why not teach a bunch of people at once?”
“I could, I suppose. Although Maria knows Latin, which makes it much easier for her than it would be for you German peasants.” Maurício smiled to show he was joking.