Forever the Road (A Rucksack Universe Fantasy Novel) Page 21

  “Aye,” Rucksack said. A nostalgic wisp brightened his eyes. “He lets you go a few paces, then he shouts, ‘Wait my friend! Wait my friend!’ You come back, of course. That’s how it’s done. And he’s clearly happy that you understand the rules and he can engage in a proper transaction.”

  “It’s not like these fresh-faced backpackers you get nowadays,” Jay said. “All wet ink behind their passport stamps. They would’ve just left, denying both people a chance to talk about his kids and how expensive good fresh ingredients are nowadays.”

  “Even if he’s not buying good fresh ingredients,” Rucksack replied. “Then he would’ve said his usual price is sixty, but you’re a guest. Special price for you.”

  Jay nodded. “So, of course I’d counter with twenty, knowing full well he’s talking poo.”

  “Anymore so, you could pat his words into a cake, chuck it on a wall to dry in the sun, and burn it for cooking later,” Rucksack said.

  Jay shrugged. “I tried to tell him to charge me more.”

  “You didn’t try to speak Hindi, did you?”

  “Eventually. At first I think I told him he had chickens on his ears. After a few goes, he understood that I was trying to make him charge me exorbitantly so we could agree a fair price like gentlemen. But it’s like he had decided the rules didn’t apply.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know what he was signifying,” Jay said, “but it’s like he traced a triangle in the air, then a circle, then he pointed at me and just said again, ‘Four rupees.’”

  Rucksack frowned. Outside the throngs of people, a cow wandered toward the two of them.

  “What’s wrong?” Jay asked Rucksack. “I thought it was just some sort of weird local blessing, like I’ve been seen enough or seen with Jade or something, so I was getting the local price. That’s why I finally just caved in and gave him the money. I tried to sneak in extra, but you know what he did?”

  “No,” Rucksack said. “He didn’t.”

  “He gave me change.”

  “It’s just not right.”

  “It’s like it’s all been getting easier lately. The traveling. The day to day. I’m used to travel being hard. I like travel being hard,” Jay said. “Now I’m being charged differently. Everyone is deferential to me. It doesn’t make any sense. I’m just another foreign guy with a backpack—no one special.”

  “Has there been any change in the dia ubh?”

  Jay sighed. To his left he saw the cow, its eyes dull yet bright, as if saying it knew something important, only it wasn’t going to let on. With his samosa in one hand, Jay brought around his daypack with his other hand, unzipped it, and held the black fabric open so Rucksack could peer inside.

  The dia ubh sat like a gray rock.

  Rucksack shook his head. “So much to tell you,” he said.

  “Tell me about what?”

  “We’ll get to it. Eat up. Let’s keep looking.”

  Jay zipped the pack closed and put it on his back. He held up the samosa, and his stomach sent up something like a cross between a growl and a cheer. “I guess I am still hungry,” he said, opening his mouth to take a big bite of samosa.

  His teeth closed on nothing.

  “What the?” Jay said.

  Rucksack’s eyes were wide as he peeled the newspaper off the samosa. “Sorry, my lad,” he said, “but we don’t want this damaged.”

  Rucksack held out the naked samosa, and Jay reached for it.

  The cow didn’t even slow down as it plucked Jay’s samosa from Rucksack’s hand, munching slowly as it wandered away.

  Jay realized his mouth was hanging open. A stream of drool washed over his chin.

  “We’ll get another one in a minute,” Rucksack said. “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll do the haggling. In the meantime, well, I’m sure you can hold out a wee while longer.”

  Jay sighed. “This had better be good. What’s so important?”

  “Today’s paper,” Rucksack said. “I hadn’t gotten to see it yet, what with today’s excitement.” He read quietly for a moment, then said, “Damn, damn, damn.”

  “What’s the big deal?”

  “Confirmation.” Rucksack shook his head. “I knew there was a slim chance it wouldn’t be. Maybe there still is. But even if there is, I can’t give myself the luxury o’ that frail wee hope anymore.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “In about a month and a half, there’s going to be an eclipse.”

  “Right,” Jay said. “Agamuskara’s supposed to be the best place to see it.”

  “You’re in for a real bloody treat,” Rucksack continued. “Today’s paper has confirmed that the eclipse is going to be a mirror eclipse.”

  “A what?”

  “Aye,” Rucksack said. “It would make sense you wouldn’t know. They’re bloody rare. Last one that happened in recorded history was… was the day o’ The Blast.”

  Rucksack seemed to hesitate. Jade had mentioned something about The Blast always bothering Rucksack. Jay wondered why that would be. Then again, he thought, I could know Rucksack for a thousand years and probably still know only a fraction of who he is and what he’s about.

  Rucksack took a deep breath and continued, his left hand squeezing into a fist. “A mirror eclipse happens under very particular conditions. The eclipse must be total—a complete blackout o’ the sun. And there must be clouds.”

  “If there are clouds,” Jay said, “how can you see the eclipse?”

  “That isn’t understood,” Rucksack replied. “The eclipse still appears in the sky, as if it were lower than the clouds. You look up and there it is: big black and gray clouds. You’d think a storm was brewing that could break the world like crushing an egg in the hand. Right there with all that boiling storm, there’s this big black disc o’ the sun. And it’s not like other total eclipses, where maybe you still can see just a wee outline of light, silver-and-gold lining, around the black. Oh no. This is the total o’ total eclipses. No light at all. Total dark.”

  “So how can it even be seen?”

  “That’s why it’s called a mirror eclipse. Next to the black disc is a second disc. This one burns bright as noon o’ the brightest day o’ the year. The light is both gold and silver, and it shines as if it could light up not just our wee world but the entire universe.”

  “So there are two suns, one dark and one light, beside each other, burning in the sky?”

  Rucksack nodded. “It’s said that on days like this, the world can choose dark or choose light.”

  “What did the world choose the day of The Blast?”

  “The world chose both, Jay, but that’s a story for another day. It’s not important right now.”

  “You were there, weren’t you?”

  “Another day.”

  “Why won’t you talk about it?”

  “The past is called the past because it is past. We are dealing with what is happening now, and that is far more important than days gone by.” Rucksack sighed. “I have so much I have to tell you, Jay. And it’s time. Beyond time. I should’ve told you right away.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Come on, Jay,” Rucksack said. “It’s not just prices that have been bothering you. You’ve heard it too.”

  “Heard what?”

  “You aren’t fooling me. You’ve heard it in the pub. You’ve heard it when you walk down the street. Sometimes now it’s accompanied by a pointed finger or a direct look.” Rucksack shook his head. “There’s a story out there, running loose as a wild animal. A man went up and down Mount Everest one night by the light o’ the full moon, as easy as walking down the street to get a samosa. And you know who this man is, don’t you?”

  Jay’s eyes narrowed. “No, I don’t.”

  Rucksack traced a triangle in the air, then a circle, just as the samosa vendor had done. “Yes, you do,” Rucksack said. “We have to talk.”

  “Let’s get that samosa first,
” Jay said. “I’m famished.”

  “Jay!” Rucksack shouted. “Mim and Pim—”

  “Are around here somewhere. I’ll see if they’re hiding behind the samosa man.”

  “No, Jay. There they go!”

  Rucksack took off running. After a moment, Jay followed, cursing under his breath, stomach rumbling.

  Mim and Pim’s heads bobbed in the crowd. Everywhere they ran it was as if the world opened a path for them then closed it for Rucksack and Jay. Hard as it was to keep sight of them, much less catch up, Jay still sensed that they had his passport.

  It’s close, he thought. Closer than I could have hoped.

  For days they had searched, chasing any little scrap or hint. The one time we see them, Jay thought, it’s by surprise! Maybe it’s just in one of their pockets, and this is all as simple as reaching out and just plucking it away.

  Jay turned right when he saw the other men do the same. They came to a familiar side street.

  And Jay nearly stopped chasing them.

  The Mystery Chickpea was back.

  Jade had speculated about its absence. Sometimes Jay thought Kailash was trying to find the old man who ran it. And now the cart was back, as if it had never left.

  No time to dwell on that, Jay thought. Get your passport back, he reminded himself, to his stomach’s annoyance. Then you can eat the man out of every drop and scrap of slopple he’s got.

  Mim and Pim ran down the alley where Jigme and Asha lived. I always wind up here, Jay thought.

  He kept running. Then he saw Rucksack, breathing hard but no longer running. He was knocking on a red door. Asha’s door.

  Jay stopped next to him. “Where are they?” he said.

  “I don’t know,” Rucksack replied. “I followed them then had to dodge a couple of people. When I came around and could see down the alley again, they were gone. It’s as if they disappeared from right outside Asha’s door.” He knocked again. “Asha?” he said. “Are you here? It’s Rucksack. Can I talk to you?”

  No answer.

  “Maybe she’s resting,” Jay said.

  Rucksack stared at the door, as if trying to see through it. “Maybe,” he said, stepping away.

  “We nearly had them,” Jay said.

  “Who knows what we nearly had,” Rucksack replied.

  “Maybe we should keep going down the alley.”

  “They’re not down there, Jay. I would’ve seen them running.”

  “Maybe they’re at that temple.”

  Rucksack shook his head.

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Why do you want to go to that place again?”

  Jay stepped back. His stomach growled. A faint feeling crept over him like insects crawling. Too much running on an empty stomach.

  “We will find them,” Rucksack said. “We’ll get your passport back. It’s not lost. I know it. But there’s nothing else for us to do today.”

  “What now?”

  “Get something to eat,” Rucksack said. “And Jay…”

  “What?”

  “Tomorrow, at dawn, let’s you and me go for a boat ride.”

  “That sounds very romantic and all, but I am taken.”

  “There’s so much you need to understand. Best place won’t be in the streets. Too many distractions. Too many people listening. Meet me by the boats before the sun comes up.”

  “You’ll tell me everything you know?”

  “We don’t have that kind of time,” Rucksack said. “You’ll have to settle for all I can tell you. But I do believe you’ll be satisfied.”

  Jay started walking back toward the mouth of the alley. “Okay, Rucksack,” he said. “I trust you. After all, isn’t that what friends are for?”

  “Aye, Jay,” Rucksack replied. “Aye indeed.”

  They wandered in silence for a little while. As the mouth of the alley drew near, Rucksack said, “You’re going to go there, aren’t you.”

  “Of course I am,” Jay replied. “I’m famished. A cow stole my samosa, and if I don’t eat there now, for all I know The Mystery Chickpea will disappear again before I get another chance.”

  “I can’t dissuade you, can I?”

  “Guru Deep and his guidebook couldn’t. The other people at the hostel couldn’t. Even Jade couldn’t.”

  “You do understand, though, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. Everyone thinks the place is food poisoning central.”

  “Have you ever seen anyone eat there?”

  “No. All the better.”

  “I can’t tell you what to do, of course.”

  “Of course,” Jay said. “But this place is famous. Or infamous. Or both. But I have to know. A lot of people say things that wind up being wrong. I can only know something for certain if I find out for myself.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s here. Because it is famous and infamous. Because it was gone and now it’s back. Because it really fascinates me and if I didn’t get to eat there, I know I would kick myself for it later. That’s why.”

  Rucksack sighed. They reached the mouth of the alley. “I’m going to talk with my mother. We have much to discuss.”

  “Okay,” Jay said. “Meet you for a pint later?”

  “Or ten.”

  “Oh, I have to be good. Jade said she has something special for me tonight.” Jay grinned.

  Rucksack frowned again. “More than I want to know,” he said. “I’ll see you later.”

  He left before Jay could reply. Why does everyone seem to have a problem with me and Jade? he thought. We make each other happy. Shouldn’t that be enough for Rucksack and Kailash? Sometimes it’s as if they don’t want us to be together.

  Jay shook his head and started wandering toward the clouds of steam rising all around The Mystery Chickpea. I admit, he thought, it doesn’t seem the likeliest of loves. But there’s something there that we can’t deny. Shouldn’t deny. And why should we? I can have Jade and still be a traveler.

  Behind the steam, the old man waited. The folds of his white clothes wrapped around him like a robe. The shining white fabric was as clean as if it had just come from the laundry.

  Jay glanced down at the three bubbling pots. Fresh and dried splatters covered the pots and the top of the cart. How could someone who makes this sort of slopple be so clean? he wondered.

  The old man’s dark face was patchworked with wrinkles and lines, yet it had the smooth suppleness of a younger man’s face. If not for the white beard that wound down to the old man’s chest, the face would have seemed not ready for shaving. His brown-and-black eyes reminded Jay a little of Rucksack and Kailash. Behind the beard, even, it seemed as if there were similarities in his face.

  Maybe they’re from the same region, Jay thought.

  Jay waited but the old man wouldn’t ask what he wanted. Finally, Jay remembered: he can’t talk. Jay pointed at the three pots. “One of each, please.”

  The old man nodded and served up a bowl.

  Jay’s stomach rejoiced as he ate. At last, a meal! He felt like he’d hardly started the first bowl before it was empty. The second bowl went just as quickly. Finally, after the third bowl, Jay felt full again.

  Why can’t you speak? Jay thought. And how are we going to haggle?

  “No charge,” the old man replied in Jay’s mind, as clearly as if he’d spoken out loud. “And I cannot speak because that which gives also takes.”

  Jay blinked. Did I get so hungry I started hallucinating again?

  The old man nodded and smiled.

  If you really can speak in my mind, Jay thought, then tell me how you gave the soup such a creamy texture.

  “Some butter stirred in at the finish,” came the reply in Jay’s mind.

  So you can talk.

  “I can think,” the old man said. “That’s usually far more important than talking.”

  “Who are you?” Jay said out loud.

  “I am the man who sees,” said the voice in his mind again. “I c
ould see or I could talk. That was my choice. I chose to see.”

  “But you’re talking now. Just in my head. Which is pretty weird, in case you were wondering.”

  “I learned to talk in my own way.”

  “How?”

  The old man pointed at the pots. “To cook is not only to feed.”

  “You’re telling me that you’re communicating with me through what I ate?”

  The old man smiled. “I’m an honest cook,” said the voice. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “What do you mean?” Jay said. “And where have you been the last couple of weeks? I’ve been dying to try your food.”

  No answer.

  “You said you were honest.”

  “I only tell the truth,” said the voice. “Unless I prefer not to speak.”

  “What, you take a holiday? Get sick off your own cooking? Wait, maybe I don’t want you to answer that last one.”

  “No and no.” The voice paused. “I was taken out of destiny’s way.”

  “Destiny’s way?”

  “I’m very sorry for all that is going to happen to you, Jay of the world,” said the voice. “You seem nice enough. And earnest. Don’t see enough of that these days. It’s a shame you have to choose.”

  “Choose what?”

  “The choice of every traveler. The heart. Or the road.”

  “You know what I say?”

  “What do you say, Jay the traveler?”

  Jay grinned. “When given a choice, sometimes you have to take both.”

  “Well, then, you sound quite decided.”

  “Glad you can concede that.”

  “Of course,” said the voice in his mind. “Just as I concede that the ground can just as earnestly decide that the lightning will not strike it.”

  “You’re saying what I choose doesn’t matter.”

  “What you choose matters. All choices still lead to your destiny, but one destiny can have many outcomes.”

  “Why do you look like Rucksack?”

  “I knew his father. A long time ago.”