Mulia did not press for answers, did not ask them to stay, or leave. Judas and Zooey decided to do so on their own.
“Do you think we should have trusted him?” asked Judas as they passed out of the village.
“I don’t trust anyone,” Zooey looked ahead.
“But, his name,” she reminded him.
“Names aren’t everything. Judas, if my name were ‘Jahat’, could you automatically assume that I was evil?”
“Yes.” Judas did not look him in the eye. “You’re going to have to trust someone other than me.”
The two went on in silence for hours. A marketplace could be seen nearby, and although they had no money, Zooey and Judas figured they could barter for food.
“Silk!” cried one merchant.
“Mango!” cried another.
“Glass!” echoed another merchant. In all the chaos, there was no way to tell where the noise came from.
“Excuse me,” Judas spoke to a man whose table was filled with exotic colors. “We’d be willing to help you, but we need money.” The man eyed her suspiciously.
“My name is Kejahatan. Can you paint?”