Malcolm followed Kit out of Phil’s odd little shop. “Have you checked your personal log yet?”
”I have.”
”And?”
”It’s risky. Damned risky. There’s a twenty percent chance I’ll shadow myself on stepping through. And if I stay longer than a week, if I have to wait through two cycles, a ninety percent chance I’ll shadow myself before getting back through. If the gate doesn’t collapse permanently before then.”
”But you’re going?”
Kit’s eyes were haunted “Hell yes, I’m going. Goldie admitted Margo should’ve been back to the gate two weeks ago. What would you do?”
”Go with you,” Malcolm said quietly
Kit swung around. He blinked; then tightened his jaw muscles. -Malcolm, I can’t ask you to risk this. You said yourself you weren’t cut out for scouting.”
”You’re not asking and neither am I. I’m going. It’s my fault Margo pulled this stunt, say what you will. I’m going.”
They locked gazes for a long moment. Then a suspicious film moistened Kit’s eyes.
”All right. You’re going. The Portuguese aren’t real cheerful about strangers in their African outposts.”
No. Those “traders are likely to kill any European they find sneaking around their settlement.”
”Yeah.” Malcolm wasn’t thinking about himself. He was picturing Margo in their hands.
”Jesuits,” Kit said finally. “You speak Portuguese?”
”Some. I studied it for Edo, back when I was with Time Ho! My Basque is better, though.”
”Good. I speak Portuguese very well. You’ll be a Basque Jesuit, I’ll play your superior in the Society. Let’s find Connie. This is going to be one helluva rush order.”