Page 55 of Vistaria Has Fallen

They slid into a booth with high benches and wooden walls that blocked the table from the view of all but someone standing right next to it. Duardo ordered, chatting with the waiter. When the waiter nodded and walked away, he shrugged. “You must trust me. They don’t have a menu here and I know what is good.”

“That’s fine, Duardo,” Calli assured him.

Minnie, looking fresh and rested,rolled her eyes. “Just don’t let her gobble it down. She turned purple in the face last time because she bit into something too hot for her. You let her do that again and she’ll sue you for damages to her tongue.”

Duardo seemed incapable of accepting teasing in his new role as their appointed guardian. He shook his head. “You will like this.”

While they waited for the food, Calli employed Duardoas an interpreter and arranged to use the hotel’s telephone. She placed a call to Josh’s office at the silver mine on Las Piedras Grandes, repressing her frustration at having to deal with an operator to place a simple long distance call. Using good English, the operator told her it would take a while, so Calli sat back at the table, a few feet away.

“What doespiedrasmean?” she asked Duardo.

“Rock. Boulder.”

She laughed. “Las Piedras Grandes...the big rock.”

“It is, too,” Duardo said. “Right at the end of the main island islas piedras. There is nothing on it.”

“Nothing but silver in vast quantities,” Minnie said.

“Yes. For many years, though, nothing.”

“How big is it?” Calli asked.

“You can drive across the island in twenty minutes,” Minnie said.

Duardo nodded. “I believethat is true. I have not been there.”

“No? Northern boy, huh?”

“Most certainly,” he agreed easily.

The food arrived then, steaming hot bowlfuls of what Calli took to be stew and plates of crisp tortilla-like wafers. There was also a bowl of something cream-colored and of the same consistency as a dip.

In Lozano Colinas, most of the dishes consisted of lots of fresh produce—salsa and piquantsalads, along with just-browned meats and freshly made tortillas. In Pascuallita, the emphasis appeared to be different.

“No spoon, no fork,” Minnie muttered.

“No. Like this,” Duardo explained. He picked up the crisp wafer, dipped it in the creamy stuff and took a small bite, then indicated they should, too.

It tasted bland.

“Now try this,” he instructed and dipped the wafer into the bowlbefore him. The wafer emerged thickly coated with sauce and carrying a spoonful’s worth of what looked like carrots and perhaps meat.

Calli dipped into her bowl and ate. The stew was a savory delight, the vegetables crisp, the meat tender. Spices hit the back of her tongue and surprised her with their subtleness.

“Like?” Duardo asked.

Minnie frowned. “It’s not curry, I know that. It remindsme of curry, though. It’s great,” she assured him. “What is it?”

“Whatever it is, it’s never been in a can,” Calli declared. “That flavor you only get from blending and cooking well.”

“Three days,” Duardo said.

“And the meat?”

“Wild mountain goat. There are many around here. Try it with the tapenade.”

Calli ate with a relish, for she was ravenous. They had only had chocolate and a handfulof crushed cookies on the train.