Forever the Road (A Rucksack Universe Fantasy Novel) Page 12

  As he came up the steps, Jay kept looking around, as if he were seeing something Jade wasn’t seeing. No one else seemed to notice Jay at all, she realized, as if he wasn’t there. Can I see him because I’m a Jade?

  On they walked, back the way they had come from, until Jay suddenly stood full and distinct in the morning light again. Jade jumped behind a cart covered in eggs, their white and brown shells glinting slightly. She ignored the annoyed look from its owner.

  “You want egg?” the owner said.

  “No,” Jade replied.

  “Good eggs,” he continued. “Healthy. They make you shine.”

  “I don’t want any eggs.”

  Jay started wandering again, and people clearly saw him now. Relieved, Jade started to move away from the cart.

  “Shiny eggs,” the owner said, pressing one into her hand. “New eggs. Best price for you.”

  Still warm from the hen, the egg felt fresh as the morning. In that egg could be life, a new chicken that could go on to lay more eggs. Some would become more chickens. And some, she thought, would become breakfast.

  “No thanks.” She gently set the egg back on the cart. Before he could reply or hand her another egg, she quickly walked away.

  She couldn’t see Jay.

  A panic rose in her, an unexpected urgency. She had to follow him, had to find him.

  But where had he gone? The old city was so built upon itself that over the centuries it had become equal parts maze and labyrinth. From where Jade stood, eight streets and alleys intertwined. He could have taken any of them.

  Every moment meant more steps, more streets, more city between her and him. There was only one thing to do. Jade wandered close to one of the walls, put her hand on the cool plaster, and listened. She didn’t normally listen when she was among other people. Too many interruptions. Too many well-meaning souls asking if she was okay, if she needed a cool drink or a moment in the shade. There was no choice now, though. Jade closed her eyes.

  The hardest thing about listening for something specific was filtering out everything else. It helped that the city wasn’t fully awake yet, and the sleepers and dreamers were easy to ignore. The animals faded easily. With so many concerns and thoughts, ideas and ponderings, feelings and doings, it was hard to determine which people to exclude and which people to hone in on. Yet as she listened to the city, she noticed something. Everywhere she looked, from the streets to the buildings, the city made her job easier. All of Agamuskara seemed to be watching Jay, and it was as if the city itself led her right to him.

  She wasn’t familiar with the alley where he had been standing, but her years in Agamuskara told her it must lead right to the center, the heart, of the city.

  And at the heart of the city, there was nothing for her to sense. The city’s white walls ended at a black void, tinged with red like a faint memory of fire. Then she listened to Jay again and heard the song that seemed to be pulling him toward the darkness at the heart of Agamuskara.

  Jade opened her eyes and ran.

  When she neared the mouth of the alley, Jay wavered where he stood, as if both following and resisting the song that called him. “Jay?” she said.

  His only response was to take a step forward.

  Near enough to touch him at last, Jade put a hand on his shoulder. He shuddered and fell to his knees. A silence seemed to fall on the alley.

  “Jay?” she said again, but he fell forward, landing in the alley. His daypack seemed to wheeze as it compressed onto his back. She started to lean down to help him, and she heard the noise again. Shr-shr-shr—

  Then it stopped.

  Jade looked at his daypack. The little bulge inside had been moving, but now it was still.

  A tremor quaked through the ground. Jade swayed back and forth. So did the entire city. After the world settled, the bulge began to move again, and the shr-shr-shr resumed its whispering. That’s got to drive him mad, she thought. What the hell is in there, anyway?

  Jay was breathing, but his eyes were closed. Well, he’s all right then, she thought, and reached over to the daypack zipper.

  The pack’s little teeth had just started to part when Jay’s eyes opened. His hand closed around hers, fast but not tight, surprisingly gentle.

  When he saw her face, his eyes widened. “Jade?” he said. “Thought someone was trying to nick my pack again.”

  Whether from the day’s rising heat, his falling and passing out, or all of it, she would have expected his hands to be clammy, but instead they were warm and dry. I thought they’d be rougher, she thought. The dream rose in her again. The walking and talking, the moment back inside the Everest Base Camp, the fire later—

  Jade pulled her hand away. “What happened?” she asked. “Are you okay?”

  Jay sat up and brushed the dust off his clothes. “I’m just hungry,” he replied. “Haven’t had enough water this morning, and did too much wandering instead of getting breakfast first. Dumb traveler stuff.”

  Down the alley, the white walls stretched straight as far as Jade could see. Eventually, they seemed to bend, but she couldn’t tell for certain. A shadow lay far back in the alley. Beyond it, everything was murky and dim, despite the sun angling down and bringing brightness everywhere else.

  That’s the heart of the city, she thought. But I have no idea what’s there.

  “How did you know where I was?” Jay asked.

  Oh crap, Jade thought. He can’t know I was following him. “You know traveling,” she replied. “Serendipity is everything. I was out, um, talking with a new supplier for the pub’s eggs. Happened to see you, thought you looked kind of dazed. Considering the night you had with Rucksack, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  Jay stood. “Yeah, I’m okay. A bit of hangover got to me. Plus, I need something to eat. Thought I’d try The Mystery Chickpea, but it’s not here today.” He stared at her. “Jade? Are you okay?”

  “What?” She realized she hadn’t replied.

  “You look kinda pale.”

  “I… You know you should never eat there, right?”

  “That’s what I keep hearing. Sounds to me like just the reason to try the place.”

  “Even Guru Deep says not to eat there.”

  Jay shrugged. “Guru Deep doesn’t come to India either. I like his books, but I use them just as much as a guide for what to skip as for what to see. What he doesn’t mention usually gives me a good idea of what to be sure to do.”

  “Look, there’s a great little cart down the way, back on the main street. They do amazing samosas. And there’s a lassi stall next to it, does the best mango lassi in the city. Tell them I sent you.”

  “Sent by Jade of Agamuskara, huh?”

  Her breath cut off. He couldn’t possibly know that, she thought. It’s only how he happened to say it. “I’m just a bartender,” she said with an edge in her voice.

  Jay took a step back. “Sorry,” he said. “Don’t know what I said to annoy you. Just meant, you know, you seem like you’ve been in the city a long time. You know what’s what, and people know who you are.”

  “People don’t know who I am,” Jade replied before she could stop herself.

  “I can see why,” Jay replied. “Look, thanks for helping me. But I’m going to chase up those samosas and lassis. Um, see you back at the Base Camp, I guess.”

  Damn, she thought as he walked away. I should have handled that better.

  She peered down the alley. The white walls brightened as the sun rose, but the shadows far down stayed as murky as before.

  She had never seen it herself, but every day she’d been in Agamuskara, someone had spoken of The Mystery Chickpea. It was always around. But not today. Jay took a fall and the city shook.

  None of it makes sense, Jade thought. It’s like where there should be sun, there’s only shadows.

  She turned away from the alley and walked toward the combination of streets that would take her to a small building of little flats. Her mind blazed out over
the city, absorbing the different thoughts and reactions to the tremor. It’s time Rucksack and I have a chat, she thought. Then we’ll take a look at the heart of Agamuskara.

  THE GOD’S EYES seemed so lifelike. Staring into them was like having a conversation with the universe. Jigme looked deeper.

  “Cool statue,” said a voice behind him. “I don’t remember seeing that before.”

  Jigme jumped and turned around. Jay sipped a lassi. “Have you had breakfast?” Jay asked. “I got another samosa.”

  “Um, okay.”

  Jay handed the samosa to Jigme and walked to the statue. He caressed the globe in the god’s hand. “How did I not see it before? I mean, it’s not like gods just come out of nowhere. Or do they? Maybe it’s a little party trick they play on the universe to amuse themselves.”

  Jigme had lived his whole life in the alley, and he had come and gone from it ever since he could walk. He knew its dirt and its smells, its sounds and the way the light shone on the white stone. But he had never noticed the statue before.

  At the corner where the alley met the street, about at eye level with Jigme, the statue stood on a small round pedestal. The wall containing it had been hollowed out so that the statue hid safe inside, flush with the surface. The blue of the god seemed to pulse and shimmer against the white walls. Flawless and unweathered, the god statue seemed like flesh, not marble. In its palm-up left hand, a bluish-white globe lay level with the figure’s neck. The god looked not at the globe but at whoever looked at the god. Its right arm was stretched out in front, hand up, palm forward, as if to say, “Stop. No farther.”

  “It’s good you’re having breakfast,” Jay said, still staring at the globe in the statue’s hand. “I waited too long and I saw strange things. Stranger than this. Only none of them had one of these. Why do you think that is?”

  As Jigme swallowed a bite of samosa, Jay turned around. A fire seemed to be sparking up in his eyes. An answer tried to jump out of Jigme’s throat, but some samosa got caught and he started coughing.

  “You don’t know either?” Jay said. He shrugged and looked back at the statue. “All the gods around here carry so many things,” he said, “but none carry a globe. It’s like a perfect little replica of our own little world. Where in your mythology would that even come from? Guru Deep doesn’t mention it, and he spends a lot of pages talking about the gods here.”

  A cough knocked loose the samosa crumbs. Jigme hacked again and swallowed. “Here, have the rest of this,” Jay said, handing over the lassi. The fire in his eyes died down.

  “I’ve never seen it either,” Jigme said. “But I don’t believe in the gods anyway, so what they carry doesn’t matter to me.”

  “You don’t believe?”

  Jigme shrugged. “People say the gods do kind things, help people. Amma and I spent years asking the gods for help. Asking for my father to come back. Asking for us to live better. Every time we asked, we lived the opposite of what we asked. So I stopped believing in them. There are no gods. There’s just a world that lets anything happen but good things.”

  Jay stepped away from the statue. The fire was gone from his eyes. “There’s a time I would’ve agreed with you,” he said. “Not saying I believe in gods. I’m only interested in living the life in front of me, not pondering ethereal maybes. If there are gods, they don’t do much. If they’re supposed to be in charge of the world and they’re this damn lazy, then they don’t deserve any consideration. If they’re not around, there’s nothing to consider. Gods or no gods, there are people, good and bad, and things that happen for reasons we may never understand. Maybe it’s like The Blast. Some say we’ll never know what really happened that day in Ireland. Maybe it’s like our parents. We’ll never know why we had to get cut to the core with that deep a love only to have it ripped away.”

  “Any love I feel, I feel for Amma,” Jigme said. “The only love I get in life, I get from her.”

  “I wish I could say something to soothe that,” Jay said, “or fill the void that must be inside you. I won’t patronize you with empty words, though, about how love is all around, how life is love, or any rot like that. I thought I once knew a lot, and then found out I didn’t. Ever since I’ve been on the road, all I’ve learned is that there’s so much I’ll never know. One of the few things I know is that life is how we deal with the road in front of us. There’s always a choice. Even if it doesn’t seem like a good one, there’s a choice you can make.”

  “It never seems like I have choices,” Jigme replied. “Or if I do, they’re never good ones.”

  “You’ll find your choices,” Jay said. “You’re strong, Jigme. You’ll find ways to be stronger, do more. ”

  Jigme finished the lassi. “What makes you strong?”

  “Going on,” Jay said. “My own way. My own decisions. I learned to love my solitude, and I keep my rules simple: Don’t get too close. Don’t stay too long. Leave when the time is right. Never look back.” He nodded at Jigme. “What makes you strong?”

  “Hoping Amma gets better.”

  “I get that,” Jay said. “And I hope she does too. Your world will be all the better for it, but whether or not she gets better isn’t something you can control. If you want to be strong, you have to find something in yourself that’s up to you—not something that’s dependent on someone else. What else makes you strong?”

  His mouth opened, but there were no words. What did make him strong? He hardly went to school. He didn’t know many songs. He only knew one thing. The rush of the hot air on his face, the big laugh inside when he barely missed colliding with someone—

  Jigme grinned. “I love to run.”

  “If it gives you a smile that big, then it must make you very strong,” Jay said. “You hang on to that.”

  For a moment, they stared at each other like brothers. Jigme wondered how long Jay would stay in the city. He couldn’t help but like the tourist.

  A hot breeze blew out of the alley.

  Jay turned and looked toward the faraway shadows. A glint like sparks gleamed in his eyes again.

  “Jigme,” Jay said, “what’s at the other end of your alley?”

  “No one knows,” Jigme replied. “No one ever goes that far. No one ever goes much farther than our door, and most never even come near that.”

  “Do you know what it means when people don’t go somewhere?” Jay asked, his voice quiet and far away.

  “No.”

  “It means there’s a reason to go there.” Jay stepped toward the mouth of the alley again. He patted the statue like a dog and grinned at its turn-back-now gesture.

  He stepped into the alley. The noise from Jay’s pack seemed louder.

  “Wow. That was harder than I expected,” Jay said, “but easier than before.”

  “I… I don’t think you should go to the dark end,” Jigme said.

  Jay started walking down the alley. “If you haven’t been there, how would you know?”

  “It isn’t done,” Jigme replied, standing next to the statue. “No one goes there. There are shadows there.” Even as he said it, Jigme realized how flimsy it all sounded. All his life, he’d heard the whispers about the alley that led to the heart of the city. It was never anything but “It just isn’t done” and “Oh it’s dark” and “That doesn’t go anywhere, so why bother?” But no one else had been there either.

  “You told me you wanted to travel,” Jay said, glancing back, the fire bright in his eyes. “Traveling starts with what’s outside your own door. If you won’t go there, how will you be brave enough to go anywhere else?”

  What do they know? All they do is tell me what isn’t, Jigme thought. Asha isn’t good. Jigme isn’t worth breath and food. The alley isn’t worth going down.

  They’re wrong about everything else.

  “No one else goes there either,” Jigme said, “but they all say what’s there. Why is that?”

  “They let fear get in the way of knowledge,” Jay said. “To a traveler, fear i
s an opportunity to learn.”

  Jigme smiled and started walking down the alley.

  “By the way,” Jay asked, “do you know why The Mystery Chickpea wasn’t set up today?”

  “What?” Jigme asked, stumbling and only just staying on his feet. When he had seen Jade following Jay, he hadn’t noticed anything else.

  “Yeah. I wanted to have breakfast there,” Jay said. “What’s the deal with the old man? Holiday? Birthday? Sick off his own cooking?”

  “I… He’s always been there before,” Jigme replied. “Long as I can remember. There’s never been a day he wasn’t there.”

  “Bugger. I know there’s a first time for everything, but why does that have to happen the day I’m here?”

  “I hope he’ll be back,” Jigme said. He didn’t understand why it bothered him so much, but the street without The Mystery Chickpea was a void in the city, like an organ that had gone missing from the body.

  “Have you ever eaten there?” Jay asked.

  “No one ever eats there.”

  “That’s fine for no one. How about you?”

  Jigme had never told Amma, and far as he knew no one else had either. Maybe no one had noticed. But on that day long ago, when he had stepped inside the steam, it was as if a door had closed between him and the world. Jigme could see them, but to everyone outside the steam, Jigme somehow knew they saw only an empty cart and an old man.

  “We were very hungry, and I had not been able to find any food for days,” Jigme said at last. “I don’t know why I even went there. My feet seemed to work for my stomach, and there I was.”

  The old man’s smile had been small, kind, and safe.

  “He patted my shoulder. Everyone says he can’t talk. He just handed me a bowl and a spoon, and pointed to the two pots.”

  “Which did you choose?” Jay asked.