Ogum turned his faceless gaze on her. "You seek proof, scholar? Touch the ponto ."
Trembling, Helena pressed her finger to the chalk. She didn't feel cold or heat. She felt memory : the memory of every enslaved African who had drawn these signs on sugar mill floors; the memory of every soldier who had used a sword to cut a path through the jungle; the memory of a future where her own skepticism was a shield against faith. ponto riscado umbanda
"The ponto is a door," he finally said. "You see lines. The spirit sees a road." Ogum turned his faceless gaze on her