The Secret of Ka (13 page)

But I had gone too far. Doubt crossed his face as his internal war intensified. Again, I heard what the djinn said inside his head.

Hand. Wish for hand back. Hand will impress pretty girl.

Amesh shook his head and took another step back.

"I'll always be ugly in your eyes," he said.

I opened my arms wide. I reached for him, to hug him. I opened my heart. I did everything I could to pull him back from the abyss he was racing toward.

"Don't be silly. You're the cutest guy I've ever met."

"Sara..."

"I have a crush on you, Amesh," I said.

He heard me; I know he did. Because for an instant he smiled, and it was real. I sensed he was on the verge of sharing his feelings for me. Sure, it was a strange moment to share intimacies, but I didn't care. I just needed him to be safe.

Then I heard the djinn speak loudly in his mind. With power. The power we'd just given it when we'd both accidentally given it our first names.

Amesh. Wish for hand back. Amesh. Get hand back for Sara.

Amesh turned away from me then and was lost.

"Darbar Aloya Ta," I heard, as he began to make his second wish.

W
HEN I AWOKE
the following morning, I had the sun in my eyes and a throbbing headache. As I sat up, a bone in my back cracked. The morning was warm. The air was still and dry; the vast basin was as silent as a tomb. For a long time I just sat there, staring at the pond, the temples, the oval pools, and our bottled water.

I corrected myself: it was no longer our water; it was
my
water. That jerk, Amesh, was gone; my carpet was gone. He and his djinn had taken it and flown back to Istanbul. I was alone. Alone and stranded on an island swarming with invisible djinn where I might die.

I couldn't have been more furious! I wanted to kill him! But I also couldn't help missing him. I was so worried about him.

I let these intense and opposite emotions burn inside me. I had no choice; it was as if they had a life of their own. To hate someone and to miss someone—all at the same time. It was too much for my brain to process.

The time was 10:35 a.m. I had slept seven hours.

Finally, I calmed down enough to check my supplies. The candy was finished. I had six protein bars left. It was time to ration, I decided. I'd eat just two bars a day, max. It was not as if the island had demonstrated that it could support human life.

Was there any reason to explore farther? An argument could be made for staying where I was, conserving my strength and food.

The marble sidewalk that stretched between the temples did not appear simply new. It was extremely clean. In other words, it looked as if someone was maintaining the site.

Yet it went against my nature to just sit around and hope for someone to rescue me.

Amesh and I had approached the valley from the east, and seen no one. However, north, south, west—each offered an equal promise of running into someone. It was sad but true—those who kept the basin tidy might be less than a mile away, but if I chose the wrong direction to hike, I could walk until I died.

I slowly chewed on a protein bar, in between sips of water, while I contemplated my dilemma. In the end I decided to hike up the ridge and make a thorough scan with my binoculars before I chose a course. Who knew, I thought, I might discover a village on the far side of the western hills. We had entered the basin in the dark yesterday, with our eyes focused on the pools and the temples. It was possible I was not as alone as I feared.

It was hard to stand, harder to get my feet moving. The previous day had destroyed my muscles. Yet before I hiked out of the basin, I revisited the three temples Amesh and I had entered and made sure the rocks I had used to prop open the doors were still in place. Indeed, I added more rocks to each one. It was always possible that I might be forced to flee to a temple for shelter—for protection not just from the elements, but from wild animals, or even more dangerous creatures. And the more choices I had, the better.

I ignored the cobblestone path as I exited the valley. It was too rocky for my taste, too long. Using my compass, I faced west and hiked straight uphill. In my pack were my four bottles of water. They were heavy but I was not worried about their weight. I would go through them quickly.

Straight up was steep. I had to stop and rest several times before I reached the ridge. No "surprise town" waited for me on the other side of the hill. But I was careful to study the terrain before deciding on a course. Due west did not look inviting. There was a range of hills taller than the one I was on. It stretched out of sight, to the north, another direction I was not thrilled about. Its hills looked like mountains. South had the fewest obstacles, and so south it would be.

My heart was still heavy. My emotions kept swinging—missing Amesh, cursing Amesh. But, to be blunt, I cursed him far more than I missed him.

I set off at a steady pace, hoping the exercise would distract me. The first part of my journey took me downhill, and I was not walking long when I noticed a change in the terrain. Most of it was caused by the addition of a new type of shrub that was dark green and had red berries on it. The fruit was unlike anything I had seen before.

It looked like raspberries, strawberries, and blueberries all put together. I wished I could look the fruit up in my BlackBerry, but it was still dead. Just my luck, I thought. The berries were probably poisonous.

Breakfast had been only an hour ago, and I was already starving. I decided to try one. Picking out what looked to be a ripe specimen, I bit into it carefully.

The juice that flooded my mouth floored me. Not only was it sweet, it had a taste that went straight to my brain and rang the pleasure bell. Without thinking, I stuffed another three in my mouth, chewing hungrily.

"Stop, Sara!" I said aloud. I needed to wait an hour. If I got sick, I'd have no one to take care of me.

I washed down the berries with water before grabbing several handfuls and stuffing them in my pack. Storing them was probably unnecessary. As far as I could see, my path was littered with the bushes. But I figured it was better to be safe than sorry. The fruit gave off a delightful aroma; it seemed to give me energy. I felt stronger than when I had left the basin.

Psychologically, the discovery gave me a boost. I wasn't going to be able to live on the fruit forever, but at least now it would take time to starve to death—if I didn't get sick. Hopefully Amesh would be back soon...

"I wouldn't count on it, Sister," I told myself.

My late start proved a handicap. I was not far from the basin when my watch read two o'clock—normally the hottest part of the day. To lighten my load, I was purposely drinking lots of water. Two bottles were already gone. Yet now I worried that I was making a mistake. With all the hiking I had done so far, over both days, I had not seen so much as a trickle of liquid outside the mysterious basin.

I wondered if the strange temples and pools took water from the rest of the island. A perfect question to ask my carpet.

My vow to wait on the berries did not last. Taking another break, I ate about a pound and enjoyed every mouthful. A part of me didn't care. If the berries were poisonous, at least now I would die quickly.

While I was sitting and digesting my lunch, a big sheep walked over and casually licked my berry-stained hands. The creature showed no fear, which told me it was familiar with humans. Plus its wool was not that thick. It had been sheared in the last month.

Talk about a morale boost. I felt like dancing!

"Where did you come from? Can you take me to your master?" I asked the sheep as I petted it. The animal stared at me with soulful eyes and licked my face. I laughed; I took that as a yes. When I stood, the sheep began to walk in a southwestern direction. Naturally, I followed.

Unfortunately, my companion was in no hurry to go home. It stopped every few minutes to eat. It liked the berries as much as I did, and enjoyed the leaves that surrounded the fruit as well.

Near sunset I came upon a herd of sheep. The herd was a fair size—I counted at least fifty beasts. A dozen goats mingled with the crowd. On the whole they were not as friendly as the sheep, except for one.

This girl—there was no mistaking her gender—came over and nuzzled me. Lowering my gaze, I saw why. Its huge teats were swollen with milk. A pity I was a city girl—I didn't know a thing about milking animals. But the goat refused to accept that. It made a loud baying noise and tried to bite me.

"Hey!" I shouted, shoving it away. "I'm not dinner."

The sun went behind the hills; the light grew dim. Still, I had yet to meet any people. Luckily, the herd finally took note of the time. With the goats leading, it set off due west at a brisk pace. I kept to the side of the animals and tried to avoid their droppings.

It was dark when I finally saw three torches burning up ahead. They were attached to a well, which stood between two buildings. Left of the well was a large wooden barn with a triangular roof. It looked like it had been painted brown. Its doors were wide open, and the animals jostled happily toward them.

The design of the house was different from the barn. The exterior was made of stone. It was hard to be certain in the dark, but it seemed to weave across the side of a hill. The hill itself was rocky, too. Perhaps because I was exhausted, but it was easy to pretend that the house had grown out of the hill. While the barn looked like a recent addition, there was an old feeling to the house.

No one appeared to greet me. I walked toward the front door. Light flickered through glass. I assumed there must be someone inside. My heart pounded but I felt more tired than scared. Besides, I had no choice but to knock and wait.

A large man answered. His expression was kind, yet it had power, strength that only came from having lived a hard life. I saw it in his eyes; they shone a bright blue. His skin was ruddy. He had only a few wrinkles but his skin seemed as coarse as the material he wore.

His clothes were from another time and place. I wanted to call his garment a robe, but it was probably closer to a kilt. It reached to his knees and was beige, held up by a woolen rope.

He had an impressive belly, and a white mustache and beard, which he kept neatly trimmed. His age was a mystery—he was sixty, maybe older. Everything about him was oversize. I imagined I looked like a mouse to him.

He did not act surprised to see me.

"Ha talpa sang," he said in a sweet voice.

I shook my head. "I'm sorry, I know only English."

"Engleesh?"

"English." I paused and pointed to myself. "American."

"Amaren." He gestured for me to enter.

He thought my name was Amaren. I tried to point to myself again, to correct the misunderstanding, when a second person appeared. She looked nothing like the man. Her hair was long and curly, a delightful cross between blond and white. The white was not from age, I realized. It was her natural hair color. She was at most thirty-five.

She wore a beautiful maroon robe made of sheep's wool. Like the man, her eyes were blue, but darker, her gaze more intense. It was as if when she looked at me, she saw nothing else.

I felt out of place in my blue jeans and T-shirt.

I pointed to myself. "Sara. My name is Sara."

The man gestured to the woman. "Aleena," he said. He ran a finger across his lips and then pressed his palms over his ears. I took a moment to understand. He was saying that she could not speak or hear.

I nodded to her. "Aleena."

She nodded back, probably reading my lips. She smiled.

The man patted his hard chest. "Hara," he said.

I offered my hand in greeting. "Hara."

We shook, my fingers vanishing in his massive palm.

Their language was a mystery, but to my surprise, it didn't matter, at least not that first night. Aleena and Hara were both warm and kind and so comfortable to be around that talking was unnecessary. Only later did this strike me as odd.

I suppose it helped that they fed me dinner.

We ate as a family, and although the food was simple, it was like being treated to a feast. There was lamb, naturally, marinated in a spicy sauce that had me drinking glasses of juice. What was this secret beverage? It tasted like wine, apple cider, the berries I had discovered on the trail—a delicious combination.

There was also goat's milk and cheese, and a type of bread that reminded me of Indian naan. I wondered if they grew their grains or plucked them wild. The parts of the island Amesh and I had explored had been barren. But the more I ate, the less I cared where the food had come from. I just felt happy to be welcomed into their home.

I felt at home with strangers who did not speak my language. With a woman who could not speak at all. Again, I did not puzzle too deeply over my reaction; I merely let myself enjoy it after the strain of the previous two days. Not for an instant did I sense any danger.

Hara ate plates of food; he urged me to eat more. Aleena nibbled. I noticed that beneath her robe she was extremely thin, yet there was nothing frail about her movements. She was not a vegetarian—she ate the lamb—yet it was clear she preferred the bread and cheese. She was adept at hiding how little she ate. She spent most of her time serving me.

Guilt gnawed at my stuffed belly. Had I eaten food that had been meant to last them through hard times? With a series of clumsy gestures I tried to ask, and was relieved when they smiled. They might have been putting on a show for my benefit, but they acted as though this was a normal meal.

Especially Hara. With a twinkle in his eye, he patted his big belly and pointed to my small one. They did everything they could to put me at ease.

But they did not take me on a tour of the house. Instead I was led to a room not far from the kitchen, where they indicated I would spend the night. They lacked indoor plumbing but Aleena brought jugs of heated water, and I was able to take a bath in a large metal tub she rolled into my room.

The toilet was outside. It was not as comfortable as those at my five-star hotel, but it was sufficient. It reminded me of the outhouses at my father's job site, except it was made of wood instead of plastic.