Tiger's Voyage (6 page)

He leaned over and whispered in my ear, “I eat weasels for breakfast.”

I whispered back, “I’m pretty wily. You won’t catch me.”

He grunted in response.

Phet chanted singsong, “Crazy, crazy. Lazy, daisy,” then hummed happily as he ducked into his hut.

“Come, come, Kahl-see,” Phet announced. “Talk time.”

Ren changed to a man and touched my arm briefly, but then took a few steps back. “Phet’s not crazy,” he said to Kishan, and then turned to me and grinned. “‘Better a witty fool than a foolish wit.’”

I smiled at him and countered his Shakespeare with an African proverb. “‘When the fool speaks, the wise man listens.’”

Ren bowed gallantly. “Shall we?”

Kishan grunted and shoved Ren aside. “Ladies first. After you, Kelsey.”

Kishan put his hand on my back and ushered me inside, not moving it from my waist. I got the distinct impression he was trying to prove something. I turned to see Ren grinning good-naturedly as he followed us in and sat on the bed.

Bustling around in the kitchen, Phet began making us a meal. I tried to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but he insisted and soon set large platters filled with a spicy vegetable stir-fry and eggplant fritters on the table. Kishan filled a plate for me before preparing his own.

I took mine to Ren, who accepted it with a cocky smile and winked. I stumbled as I walked back to the table, feeling his eyes on me. Ren sat on the bed and watched me openly as he ate by himself.

Kishan had already filled another plate for me after glaring at Ren. I thanked him and then Phet, who dismissed my gesture.

“Phet knows you coming, Kahl-see.” He touched his nose and winked, “Bird’s soft voice to Phet’s ear. Tell me tigers approach soon nearing.”

I laughed. “How did you know it was the right two tigers?”

“Birds glimpse the whole lot. Birds are knowing many thing. Say two tigers smitten. Only one garl.” He laughed uproariously and then smiled and patted my cheek happily. “Be-u-ti-full flower captivate many. Beforehand petite bud. Now bud is ajar, half-blossom. Next, the rounded bloom come into flower. Then the perfect bloom and flower life complete.”

I patted his brown, papery hand and laughed. “Phet, would you mind if I took a bath after dinner? I feel sticky, dirty, and tired.”

“Yes. Yes. Phet talk tigers.”

After the dinner dishes were cleaned, I laughed softly as I saw Phet waggle his finger in Kishan’s face and point sternly at the door. Ren shot a grin over his shoulder at me, and the two men followed Phet outside, closing the door quietly behind them. Hearing Phet direct them to take over the weeding made me smile.

Kishan had been kind enough to fill the bucket dozens of times at Phet’s kitchen pump so I would have a full bath. I shrugged out of my dirty clothes and asked the Divine Scarf for new ones as I slipped into the tub. Scrubbing my skin with a bar of Phet’s homemade lilac soap, I listened to him chastise the brothers as I soaped through my hair.

He was gruff with them. It sounded like he was giving them a stern lecture. Frustrated, he said, “You must take
care
fragile flower! Delicate and fine petals damage easy, bruise. Spoil it and harm it. Garden is no mischief! Rough handling, battle for flower destroy it. Cut the stem, the flower dies. Needs flourish be radiant for admire. Love is look, no pluck. Endeavor gather before harvest ready is waste energy, lost everything. Remember.”

I tuned him out and enjoyed my bath, thinking that scented water beat a buttermilk bath any day. Then I remembered Kishan’s milk-bath comment, which made me blush furiously.

Phet’s voice carried through the walls again.
He sure is raking the
guys over the coals about his flowers. Funny, I didn’t notice any flowers
, I thought and sank lower into the tub.

After my thorough soak, I had the Scarf make me a couple of soft fluffy towels and wrapped one around my wet hair and the other around my body. I stepped out of the tub onto a woven bamboo mat and slipped on a set of comfortable, thin cotton pajamas. The T-shirt said:

I ♥
TIGERS

The bottoms had pictures of black and white cartoon tigers snoring peacefully away. I frowned.

I didn’t remember asking the Scarf for tiger pajamas, but my thoughts must have drifted when I was creating them. I asked the Scarf to get rid of the tigers, and the fabric shimmered as the black and white threads changed to baby blue to match the top. I created some blue cashmere socks and slipped my feet inside, sighing happily.

By the time the men came in, I was sitting on the bed with a pillow on my lap reading, my long wet hair in a braid down my back. It was dark, so I’d lit the lamp and wished up a snack from the Golden Fruit. Both Ren and Kishan made eye contact with me briefly, gave me weak smiles, and headed to the table. Their downtrodden expressions made them look like they’d just been chewed out for an hour by their grandfather. I stayed on the bed so Ren wouldn’t be too uncomfortable. Phet bustled in last and hung a straw hat on a peg.

“Ah. Kahl-see. You clean? Feel refreshed and invigorated?”

“Yes. I feel 100 percent better. Thank you. I made you a snack. It’s from Shangri-la.”

He approached the table and sat next to the boys. I had created a tea party of Shangri-la delicacies: honey–cherry-blossom tea, buttery peach fizzy tarts, cinnamon-sugar crumble clusters, mushroom-acorn butter spread between layers of cheesy crisps, delicate berry crepes with sour cream sauce, and blueberry dip with sweet fairy crackers.

Phet rubbed his hands together, delighted, and smacked Kishan away before he could grab the peach tart. The shaman filled his plate, ate the tasty morsels with pleasure, and grinned at me with his funny gap-toothed smile.

“Ah. Phet no go Shangri-la long time. Scrumptious foodstuffs there.”

Kishan asked, “Want some, Kells? Better speak up now.”

“No, thank you. I’m still full from dinner. You’ve been to Shangri-la, Phet?”

“Yes, yes. Many year ago. Many hair ago,” he cackled.

For some reason, I wasn’t surprised. I closed my book and scooted forward on the bed. “So, Phet, you wanted to talk with us? Can you help Ren?”

Ren’s bright blue gaze turned to me. He stared at me thoughtfully while Kishan slowly tore a crepe into pieces. Phet dusted powdered sugar off his hands.

“Phet long time thinking this. Fix maybe or maybe not. Tomorrow best time looking tiger’s eyes.”

“Looking into his eyes? Why do you need to do that?”

“Eye is glass. Not mirror. Inside eye is buzz like a bee. Skin is flesh? Not important.” He grabbed a fistful of his wiry hair. “Hair is nothing.” He smiled at me. “Teeth and tongue? No buzz. Words is no buzz. Only eye is talk.”

I blinked. “Are you trying to say that the eyes are the windows of the soul?”

Phet laughed happily. “Ah! Very good, Kahl-see. Smart garl!”

He slapped the table and pointed at the boys. “I tell you, young mans. My Kahl-see vastly quick.”

I stifled a snigger as Ren and Kishan nodded their heads like chastised schoolboys.

“Okay, so you want to give him a checkup tomorrow,” I continued. “We brought you Durga’s weapons. You asked to see them, right?”

Phet stood up, pushed in his chair, and waved his arms. “No, no. Tomorrow is time for weapon. Tonight is for gifts. Gifts for be-u-ti-full goddess.”

“Oh! You want the gifts. Okay.” I dug through my backpack. “It will be hard to give them up. They do come in handy. Having the Fruit means I have to carry around a lot less as we walk through weeks of jungle, plus we don’t have to eat power bars all the time. But, technically they don’t belong to us. They’re for Durga.”

I pulled the Golden Fruit and the Divine Scarf out of my backpack, set them carefully on the table, and then quickly backed away when Ren shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Phet cupped his hands around the Golden Fruit which began to shimmer in the flickering light of the hut.

“Splendid gift.
Ama sunahara
.”

He stroked the skin of the Fruit and murmured to it softly as it glowed under his attentions. Then he turned to the Scarf. He stretched out his fingers, gently touched the iridescent fabric, and said, “
Dupatta
pavitra
.”

The threads at the edge stretched out toward Phet’s palm and began weaving between his fingers as if they were the warp on a loom. The Scarf attached itself to his hand while he cooed over and petted it, and then the colors swirled faster and faster. It sparkled and crackled until it burst like a tiny nova and the material became pure white.

He spoke to the Scarf like he had to the Fruit, murmuring words and clicking his tongue as the Scarf slowly unwound itself from his hand and resumed its resting shape. Orange, yellow, and red shapes poked through the white surface like gleaming fish bodies in a clear ocean. The colors darted more rapidly until the white was overrun and it assumed its normal form, settling on a golden orange color. The fabric seemed to vibrate or hum with contentment as he stroked it idly with his hand.

“Ah. Phet missing gifts long time. Very, very good, Kahl-see. Gift as good for you. Bestow two gift, acquire two gift.”

He picked up the Golden Fruit and placed it in Ren’s hands. Then he picked up the Scarf and gave it to Kishan. The Scarf immediately shifted color, turning green and black. Phet looked at the Scarf then pointedly at Kishan, who blushed and folded the Scarf, setting it on the table in front of him.

The shaman cleared his throat loudly. “Phet assign to you for a second time. Relieve, make easier for you.”

“You mean you want us to keep using them?” I asked.

“Yes. Now Phet present fresh offering to you.”

He stood up and gathered several herbs and jars of liquid. Placing spoonfuls of ground herbs into a cup, he trickled in several drops from different jars and then ladled in some steaming water. He stirred it slowly and sprinkled in some white granules. I couldn’t really see what he was doing, but I was curious.

“Phet? Is that sugar?”

He turned to me with a gap-toothed grin.

“Sugar as sweet. Drink bitter, sugar better.”

He laughed as he stirred and began humming and singing “medicine bitter, sugar better” over and over. After he was satisfied, he scooted the cup over to Kishan who, with a puzzled expression, shifted it over to Ren.

Phet clucked his tongue, “No, no, tiger of black. Is yours.”

“Mine? I don’t need any medicine. Ren’s the one with the problem.”

“Phet knows all problem. For you, this drink.”

Kishan lifted the cup, sniffed it, and made a face. “What will it do to me?”

“Nothing and everything.” He laughed, “Give you what most in world your desire and leave you lacking, not including what most want.”

Ren was studying Phet intently. I tried to figure out what Phet meant too.

Kishan picked up the cup and hesitated, “Do I
have
to drink it?”

Phet threw up his hands and shrugged his shoulders. “You choice. Choice always drink, not drink. Eat, no eat. Love, no love.” He raised a finger in the air. “But you choice, shape many.”

Kishan peered into the cup and swirled the liquid then looked at me. His eyes tightened, and he lifted the cup to his lips and drank it down.

Phet nodded, pleased. “Gift one, one another give you now.”

“That was a gift?” I asked.

“Yes. Two and two.”

“But you gave us back the Fruit and the Scarf. You’re still giving us two gifts?”

He nodded.

“If that drink was a gift for Kishan, what was it?” Ren asked.

Phet leaned back in his chair and, with an odd expression on his face, said, “
Soma
.”

Kishan began coughing violently and Ren froze.

“What’s
soma
?” I asked.

Ren turned to me. “
Soma
is the Hindu version of ambrosia. It’s the drink of the gods. In the modern world
soma
is also a hallucinogenic.”

“
Oh
.”

Phet grunted. “My
soma
no dream.”

“Does that mean he becomes a god?” I asked Phet.

The brothers were staring at Phet too.

He just shrugged his shoulders. “Phet not know everything, only some thing. Now gift other one.”

He picked a jar from his shelf that had a sticky, clear, pink substance in it.

“You, white tiger, sit here.”

He directed Ren to sit in the middle of the room and lean his head back. Then he scooped up a palm full of the pink goo and smeared it into Ren’s hair. Ren stood up immediately.

“No! No! Phet no done. Sit, tiger!”

Ren sat and Phet hummed as he scooped another palmful and slicked Ren’s hair back with it. Soon his entire head was covered with the sticky stuff, and Phet began massaging it into Ren’s scalp like a bizarre hairdresser. Kishan leaned his chair back to watch with a mocking grin on his face. Ren seemed irritable. I couldn’t help but laugh at him, which made him scowl even harder.

“What is this supposed to do?” he asked Phet warily.

Phet completely ignored him and was now clawing through Ren’s hair like a monkey looking for nits. Blobs of pink stuff coated every inch of his scalp. Finally, Phet announced he was finished.

“Now time sleep.”

“You expect me to sleep like this?”

“Yes. All night time sleep. Witness what take place mornings.”

“Great.”

Kishan laughed outright. Phet went to the sink to wash his hands. Ren stared at me with sullen unhappiness, like a wet dog with soap on his hair sitting in a tub staring moodily at the master who put him there. I stifled a giggle and had the Scarf make a towel. He sat there with his arms folded and a scowl on his handsome face. I approached him with the towel as a giant blob of the stuff dropped onto his nose and slid off onto his cheek.

“Here, let me help. I’ll try not to touch you.”

He nodded, which caused another blob to start making its way down his neck. I grabbed my comb and drew it through his black hair, slicking it all back from his face and collecting the excess goo in the towel. When that was done, I summoned another towel, wet it, and cleaned the back of his neck, his ears, and then his face, starting at his hairline, moving down his nose, and across his cheeks.