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like a living tarot, you might make something of the arrangement: Moses on the right, Abraham on the left, fixed like soiled
anchors holding true to their resolution.There they are, epistle and gospel, parallel at the transept. At Moses’ side the alcove contains a white-gowned Virgin Mary, haloed and glorious,
encircled by figures who would admire her – force of the distinctly feminine – and, yes, Moses would pay homage at her feet. The phoenix exquisiteness of girls. And then, in the
opposite alcove, Abraham’s side, is the supine statue of an entombedman, San Xavier himself, shrouded in blue robes. A figure of recumbent death, made holy by slaughter and sacrifice.
    And so would death and purity enclose Moses’ journeys like cards from a mystical deck laid on either side of his seeker.
    As they wait, the woman moves towards the front of the church where, in the apse, an emaciated bald man kneels in a brown robe. She does not interrupthim but instead stands where he will see
her when he looks up from his prayers. He smiles gently at her, and when she nods her head in their direction, the man turns and his sad eyes fall on the brothers Abraham and Moses Todd. The smile
persists on his face, faltering only slightly as Moses perceives it.
    The thin monk walks down the steps, leaving the woman behind him at the altar, andgestures for the brothers to follow him. He leads them through a door and past a large courtyard where other
residents of the mission are tending to a large vegetable garden. A smell of cooking herbs wafts through the desert air from a long low adobe structure on the other side of the courtyard.
    Abraham and Moses follow him to a small domicile separate from the other buildings in the complex.Inside there is a simple cot and a table with two chairs. The monk closes the door behind them
and gestures for them to sit in the chairs.
    Please, sit, he says.
    You talk? Moses asks.
    I do. As an order we’ve taken a vow of silence, but the times warrant exception in the case of welcoming guests.
    Much appreciated, Moses replies.
    Yeah, Abraham says, I ain’t much for miming.

    I’m Moses Todd, and this is my brother Abraham.
    My name is Ignatius, says the monk. If you mean us no harm, you are welcome to stay.
    Moses notices that the monk is looking at Abraham’s busted lip, bruised face and half-shut eye from when he got beat up on in the desert two nights before.
    I know we look somewhat raggedy, friar, Moses says, putting on a formal voice. But we’re justtravellin through. We ain’t in the business of needless harm.
    Ignatius smiles gently, and all the suspicion leaves his glance.
    I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, he says. We’ve had unfortunate encounters in the past with brigands. However, what I’ve found is that most respond truthfully to a
questioning of motives. It is indeed a time of honesty. I suppose lying has become, comparatively,so minor a sin that most don’t see the percentage in it.
    My brother and I, Moses says, we’re hard to offend, friar. You likely couldn’t stumble by accident upon the offence to us – you’d have to give it your full effort and
strategy. So don’t fret yourself on that account. We’re happy to get whatever you feel like offerin. And we’re happy to offer services in exchange.
    Very kind of you,Ignatius says.
    Kind ain’t exactly hittin the nail on the head, Moses says, glancing at his brother. But we’ll try to be of little bother to you.
    There are not many of us here. Fifteen, and three children. The vow of silence is hardest on them, the children. But the quiet seems an appropriate devotion when the world itself has lost its
tongue. And there is a practical purpose as well– it keeps from attracting the dead.
    It’s as true an act as any, Moses says. We’re all of us become our actions – and any act done in sincerity is as good as we can hope for.
    Well spoken, Ignatius says and nods his head in approval.
    So the brothers are given