The traders mumbled and looked embarrassed, then hastily rigged blankets to form two crude confessionals. Kit insisted they put on their wet cassocks again, then Malcolm took one side, Kit the other, and they began hearing confessions. They were not even through the first one when Kit emitted a roar of outrage and snatched back the curtain.
”Witches!” he cried, wild-eyed. “What say you, witches!”
The artisans crossed themselves. The soldiers paled
Vilibaldo stared at the floor for a moment, then cleared his throat. “It is true, we have a prisoner who is a witch, Father. The other witch has died of some evil disease he brought upon himself
Sergeant Joao Braz ventured, “We have closely questioned the other and-”
”You questioned this person? Are you a man of God? Do you presume to know witchcraft?”
The sergeant paled and stumbled to a halt.
”But, but Father-” one of the sailors, Rodrigo, protested. “They were witches! Seven weeks ago it was, I saw with my own eyes a terrifying sight, a great glowing raft of white sticks that sailed through the heavens far away to the north. Then last night terrible storms raged all night and well into the morning. You see how the witch-brewed storm has nearly destroyed even you, who are men of God? What do you think we should find on the beach, Father, but that same great white raft, broken it is true, into pieces, but there were devilish items on the sand and the man and woman wore Satan’s garments and,–”
Kit groped for the nearest chair and sank into it. “And the other witch? What have you learned?”