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By Phil Partington
The man wearing priest’s robes who had been leading James along the desert trail for nearly half a day now was no more a priest than James was a magician. Yet when James had asked the broad-shoulder gentleman about it, the response was an eerie kind of laughter followed by, “Best not to ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to.”
After that, they walked mostly in silence. James was fine with that. He had come out here for one purpose and one purpose only: to find the man they called Po, if he existed at all. If legends were true, he was somewhere out here. If James’ instincts were right, the medallion draped around this strange priest-man’s neck meant he knew…
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