7
" Now, for the second thing we need. Father Veronica. Tell us about . . . the Church’s historical records.” “NO!” Bishop Soldano rose to his feet, slamming his hands on the table. “Let her speak,” Nikos said. “Don’t do this, Veronica.” Father Veronica appeared unhappy, yet determined. “It’s too late, Eminence.” “It is a betrayal of the Church!” “No. It is upholding the Church’s principles. God’s principles.” The bishop sat down heavily and closed his eyes for a moment. “You are making a serious mistake, Veronica.” “Perhaps, Eminence. But I make it with good conscience.” The bishop had no response to this except to stare at me with that same malevolence he’d directed at me the day before; eventually he sank back, still shaking with rage. Father Veronica "
― Richard Paul Russo , Ship of Fools
14
" Nikos stared out across the bleached sand, the scattered cacti and rock. “Walk with me a while, Bartolomeo.” We walked together across the hot sand, an arm’s length apart. I’d already lost my orientation, and when I looked around, I found I could not locate the entrance I’d used; I was struck by the irrational fear that I might never be able to find my way out of there. Or that Nikos would murder me. My body could remain undiscovered for decades. “We’ve been friends a lot of years, Bartolomeo.” “Were friends,” I corrected him. “No more?” “I don’t think so, Nikos.” He stopped, turned, and looked at me, his expression steady. If he’d been drinking recently, I couldn’t tell. Everything about him seemed sober and firm. “We’ve both made mistakes. Out of fear, or mistrust. Or perhaps even simple misunderstanding. Whatever the reasons. But is the damage to our friendship irreparable?” I’d thought so, but suddenly I was unsure. Watching him, listening to him, I was unable to detect any dissembling. He seemed sincere. Nikos could be deceptive and manipulative, but I always thought I could see through him. I’d missed it before, although looking back on it, I realized the signs had been there—I just hadn’t recognized them; maybe because I hadn’t wanted to. Now, though, I saw nothing but a sincere effort at reconciliation. “I don’t know,” I finally said. “Honest "
― Richard Paul Russo , Ship of Fools
17
" She came flying out at us, screeching again, but this time we were prepared. She was still strong and wild, but there were three of us and it wasn’t long before we subdued her. I held her from behind, pinning her arms to her side, my hands gripping one another tightly; my artificial arms would not tire, although my shoulders eventually would. “We mean you no harm,” I said softly. “Do you understand me?” Her only response was a pained, high keening, which gradually faded and she let her head hang, as though she was unconscious. As before, she had ceased to struggle. "
― Richard Paul Russo , Ship of Fools
