The lid had come loose but otherwise the box was fine. Chaya tapped and prodded it the way Neel had shown her, until she heard the click that released the hidden compartment. She took out the drawer and saw the dark shapes nestling among the wood dust.
She lifted out one of them, leaving a trail of wood dust on her bed sheet.
“No!” Chaya yelled. She turned the box over and shook the contents out, dumping a dusty mound of pebbles on to her bed.
No. No. NO! The thief. The horrible thief! Chaya scrabbled in the wood dust for the jewels, but all she found was pebbles.
Every single one of the Queen’s jewels was gone.
Her fingers closed on a scrap of paper among the wood dust. She shook it off. It was a note. A very short one.
Nice try.
– Nour
“Can you believe it? How dare she!” Chaya paced the workshop. Her throat felt tight and she pummelled her thighs with her fists. What a nightmare. Where on earth were the jewels?
Neel slumped at his work table, his forehead resting on his hands. It was a good thing Kumar the carpenter wasn’t in again – Neel wasn’t even bothering with his work today.
“Maybe,” he said, his voice muffled as he looked down at the table. “Maybe they’re safe now that they’re with her.”
“Safe! Maybe the jewels are safe, but what about the people? It’s so awful, Neel.” Chaya flopped against a half-built wardrobe, the shelves digging into her back. “General Siri’s still harassing the villagers. He won’t give up. He wants a confession.”
Neel fingered the note. “I don’t understand why she’s taken them. Her father is Cassim the merchant. They’re rich, aren’t they?”
“How did she find out how to open it in one night?” said Chaya, stalking around the workshop. “How did she even work out there was a secret compartment? Ridiculous – she can’t be that clever. Thinks she can outwit us. No way.”
Neel shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. She must have guessed something was up from the way we were acting. And she did say the box felt heavy. The question is, what do we do now?”
“We’ve got to—” Chaya’s mouth dropped open as she saw a slim figure dressed in red walking through the paddy fields towards them.
Of all the nerve.
“Neel,” she said, her eyes on the figure. “Neel. It’s her.”
Neel’s head whipped up.
Nour stepped gingerly through the fields, her eyes on the ground. She came into the workshop and stopped in front of them, hands on her hips.
“Where is my box?” she said. “I want it back.”
“Where are our jewels?” said Chaya, leaning over the table. “Thief.”
“Chaya—” began Neel.
Nour laughed. “May I remind you that it wasn’t me who broke into somebody’s house and stole things?”
“That’s different,” said Chaya. “I was taking back what was ours.”
Neel held up his hand. “Listen—”
“Ours?” Nour snorted. “Really? I bet the King would beg to differ.”
There was a silence in the workshop.
She knew. Nour knew everything.
“Miss Nour.” Neel stood up. “Please. It’s not how you think. We need the jewels because of what General Siri’s doing to the villagers. We have to give them back and save our people.”
“That’s not the only reason!” snapped Chaya. “We also want them because they’re ours, not hers.” She glared at Nour before turning back to Neel. “And stop calling her Miss! She’s not better than you in any way.”
“Chaya, be quiet. I’m sure we can discuss this calm—”
“She should have just stayed out of it,” said Chaya, jabbing a finger at Nour. The girl had put them all in danger with her silliness. “Poking her nose into other people’s business. Taking what’s not hers.”
“Hey.” Nour threw up her hands. “I bought the box.”
“Well, the price didn’t include the jewels,” said Chaya. “So you can’t have them.”
“Who said I wanted them?” Nour looked scornful. “I only want my box, not the Queen’s jewels. I’m not a thief.” She took a drawstring bag out of her pocket and flung it on the table. “Which is more than I can say for the pair of you.”
Chaya stared at the little bag. Neel snatched it up and pulled it open. The sound of jewels clinking together made Chaya’s heart soar.
“Thank you so much, Miss Nour. Thank you for understanding,” said Neel.
“Neel, she’s not doing us a favour! The jewels aren’t hers to give away.”
“Of course I’m doing you a favour,” said Nour. “I mean, I could tell my father, if you like?”
“Oh no, Miss Nour, please don’t do that,” said Neel. “I’ll make sure I get you your box. Actually…” He went up to the shelves and moved some trinkets to the front. “Please choose any one you want. Or two, three, whatever.”
Nour stepped around the work table to the shelves.
Chaya marched after her. “Wait a minute, wait a minute. Neel, what’s this about two or three?”
Neel closed his eyes. “Chaya, I’m begging you—”
“But then you’ll have to pay your master with your wages. As it is he pays you so little.”
Nour ignored them and rummaged on the shelves.
“Stop it,” Neel hissed at Chaya. “We got the jewels. Don’t ruin it now.”
Someone cleared their throat behind them. Chaya turned around to see two men had walked into the workshop. They were dressed in identical guard uniforms, and they stamped their shoes on the coir rug, looking around with interest.
Behind them some more people followed through the fields. And in the distance beyond the paddy fields Chaya could see a group of riders on horseback. The ground listed under her feet as a wave of dizziness swept through her.
It was the King’s men.
“We’re just searching the area,” said one of the guards who’d come in, nodding respectfully at Chaya and Nour. “If you two will wait outside?”
“Hey,” said the other to Neel. “You, boy. What’s that you hid on the shelf there?”
“Nothing,” said Chaya. “He works here. His master, Kumar the carpenter, is away. You should come back another time.”
Some of the rest of the group approached the workshop.
“Get General Siri,” said the man who shouted at Neel. “Something’s going on here.”
There was a sudden rush of movement. Chaya swung round. Four men surrounded Neel, and one was rummaging around on the shelf. Nour stepped forward and tried to say something, but froze as the man swept his spear back and forth among the wooden knick-knacks, knocking things over and sending them crashing to the floor.
“Stop it!” shouted Chaya. But her voice was drowned out by the clatter of falling wood as item after item of Neel’s hard work smashed on the floor.
A swarm of the King’s men crowded around the workshop, almost blocking out the light. Soon General Siri himself was at the doorstep, one corner of his lip pinned back in a permanent sneer.
“What do we have here?” His voice was hoarse and broken.
“The carpenter’s away,” said Chaya. “You should come back when he’s in. Your men have done enough damage here.”
General Siri’s eyes swept round the workshop. “I don’t think so. We’ll continue to search it now.”
“But the owner isn’t in.” Chaya stepped up to the doorway and blocked the entrance. “I insist that you come back another time.”
General Siri laughed indulgently. “Whoever you are, miss, out of the way now.”
“General Siri,” said a voice behind Chaya. “Sir. The boy hid something as we came in. We found it.”
Chaya turned to see the man hold out Nour’s drawstring bag. General Siri took it in his dry, cracked hands, and fear slashed deep into Chaya’s heart.
“Let him go, it wasn’t him!” said Chaya, as the guards seized Neel. Someone shoved her against the wall as
the men pushed past, dragging Neel through the doorway.
“Well, well.” General Siri slapped Neel on the back of his head. “So we find you at last. Trust me, boy, it’s over for you.”
The King’s men crowded around them and Chaya lost sight of Neel. She scrambled up the half-wall and jumped over, following the glimpse of his pastel-blue shirt as he was taken away in the surge of men. “Wait,” she screamed. “It wasn’t him! Wait!”
A guard grabbed her and pulled her away. “Stay out of this, miss.” Chaya struggled against him, her hair catching in his copper buttons.
“Let me go.” Chaya hit out at the guard. She heard the crack of bone on bone and saw blood pool on his lips, leaving her knuckles stinging. She slipped out of his grasp and ran towards the front, fighting her way through the throng of men.
“It wasn’t him. It was me. Me.” Chaya’s screams burned her throat, but no one took any notice. She saw two men at the front haul Neel into a cart. Bodies hit against her, buffeting her from side to side, and her ears rang with the whinnying of horses and crunch of cartwheels.
Something scraped against her arm, leaving a slash of blood. She thrust her way to the front, where the purple waistcoat of General Siri flashed golden at the seams, sitting high on his horse. Chaya threw herself in front of him, blocking the way. The horse reared up and General Siri gaped down at her.
“What the—! Get out of the way before you get killed, idiot.”
“It was me!” yelled Chaya. “I stole the jewels. It wasn’t Neel.”
General Siri looked confusedly at his deputy next to him. The man shook his head. “It’s Headman Sarath’s daughter. She’s friends with the boy. Her father lets her mix with all sorts.” He spat on the ground.
“Get out,” said General Siri to Chaya.
A guard pulled her off the path, grabbing her by the neckline of her dress, the cloth cutting into her neck. “No. Wait.” The words stuck in her throat. Her palms slammed into gravel as he pushed her by the wayside and the sounds rolled away.
“Please,” she screamed again. “He didn’t do it. It was me.” She scrabbled up and dusted her sandy, bloody hands but by then the whole convoy was disappearing into the distance.
Chaya trudged back to the workshop and sat on Neel’s empty stool. She put her head down on his work table and punched the surface. Tears spilled down her face and darkened the partly carved lotuses he’d been working on.
She had to pull herself together. There was no time to waste. She was the one who’d got Neel into this and it was up to her to fix things. She looked up and dried her eyes.
There was a movement in the corner of the workshop. Nour was standing by the far wall.
“What on earth?” Chaya glared at her.
“I’m sorry about what happened,” said Nour. “I really—”
“Go away,” said Chaya. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“You tried to take the blame.” Nour seemed to consider Chaya, her head cocked to one side.
“I am to blame.” Chaya got up and paced the room. She had to help Neel. What could she do?
“Why did you do it?” said Nour.
“Do what? Would you just leave? I don’t have time for this right now.”
But Nour stayed where she was, staring outside as if deep in thought. “I mean,” she said, turning to Chaya briefly, “you know the consequences of being caught. Why did you say you did it? Even if it was true.”
“Because Neel is my friend. Is that so hard to understand?”
Nour stared at Chaya for a few moments before turning back to the outside again.
Chaya picked up Neel’s carving tools that had been scattered on the floor when he was dragged out. She felt Nour’s eyes on her as she wrapped them in a rag and dropped them into her pocket
“Where are you going?” asked Nour as Chaya made for the outside.
Chaya ignored her.
“Wait.” Nour hurried up behind. “Aren’t you going to help your friend?”
Chaya turned to her sharply. “Of course I am.”
“How?” Nour ran beside Chaya, struggling to keep up on the narrow path without stumbling into the paddy field. “How will you help him?”
“By doing what I do best.”
“And what’s that?”
“Breaking into places and making off with stuff,” said Chaya, and strode away as Nour stared after her in surprise.
As evening fell, Chaya waited in Father’s easy chair on the verandah, her knees drawn up under her chin. The leaves of the neem tree rustled in the breeze, filling the air with its herby scent.
The gate clanked open and Chaya bounded out of the chair as Father came in.
He looked up and sighed. He climbed the three wide steps to the verandah very slowly, as if dreading her inevitable question.
“Father?” Chaya was too afraid to ask him. She could guess the answer already. The King wasn’t known for his mercy.
Father sank into the easy chair but didn’t lean back. He patted the chair next to him. “Come here.”
“Is it bad news?” she said, taking the seat.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Chaya?” He pressed his fingertips to his forehead. “Neelan, the jewel thief? I can’t believe it. You must have known?”
Chaya pushed her fingers into the weaving of her seat. “He’s not a thief. He really isn’t, please trust me on this. There’s been a mistake.”
Father shook his head. “There was no mistake. He was caught with the jewels.”
Could she tell him? No, Father would never turn her in – he’d lock her up at home to protect her and would never let her rescue Neel. He might even turn himself in to do the right thing by Neel.
“But a guard near the Queen’s quarters said it was a girl,” she said.
“That’s what he insists but that can’t be true, of course. He’s afraid and making up things. Everyone else reported different descriptions of the boy. The truth is, people were panicking and running and no one knew who was chasing whom.”
The edges of the weaving cut into her skin as Chaya gripped it harder. “But if they just asked that guard—”
“He’s been fired, Chaya.”
Only one person at the palace knew that Neel wasn’t the jewel thief, and he was gone.
“How could they do that?” she yelled. “He didn’t do anything!”
“The King doesn’t take too kindly to a breach like that. You know how it is. All his reign he’s been fearful of an uprising against him. With good reason.”
Chaya took a deep breath and tried to calm her racing heart. “What happens now? What about Neel?”
Father took her hand. “I’m so sorry, my child. The King has given his verdict.”
“No!” Chaya got up and snatched her hand away. “No. There hasn’t been a trial. What about witnesses? Someone else could have planted the jewels in the workshop. That’s just not fair.”
“Chaya.” There were tears in Father’s eyes. “I know that this is hard for you. Neelan is your best and oldest friend, but he’s done something terrible.”
“No, he hasn’t! The King can’t do this. What about proof? They can’t sentence an innocent person to death.”
“That’s just it. There’s no need for proof, Chaya. The boy has confessed.”
Chaya curled up in her chair while Father poured her a tumbler of water from the clay pitcher. Her body felt numb. All she could think about was Neel in a dark, lonely prison, about to pay the ultimate price for a crime she committed.
But if she said something, it would be Father instead.
“I spoke to his family.” Father handed her the water. “I told his mother I can find her a job once she’s had her baby.”
Chaya pictured Neel’s distraught family. His lean, stooped father, his hands fragrant with the cinnamon bark he peeled all day; his round, cheery mother; his two younger brothers and sister; and the baby sibling he might never see.
NO. Chaya sat up and thumped the tumbler down.
She had to put her plan into action right away.
“Father,” she said. “I want to see him.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Chaya. Even if it were possible.”
“Please, Father.” Chaya squeezed his wrist. “I must see him. I have to say goodbye.” She’d never even seen the prison. She had to know where it was and what it was like before she planned her rescue. “Just five minutes. I want to say goodbye to him one last time.”
“Chaya…” Father shook his head.
“Please, Father, please. I’ll never ask you anything again. My best friend is going to die.”
“Oh, Chaya.” Father sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Chaya clutched the paper bag of jambu fruits in her hand as she accompanied her father to the palace. A guard at the main entrance put his hands together in greeting to Father, and waved them through with a smile.
“It wasn’t easy to make this happen,” Father said as they walked up the terraced gardens. “It’ll be a quick visit. You can see him, and then we’ll leave.” He kept looking at her from time to time. “I’m not sure if this is good for you. Seeing him now.”
“We’ve been over this, Father,” said Chaya. Her eyes swept the place. So far they’d passed through three sets of guarding posts, and they were still outdoors. “You know me. I’m not going to beat my chest and wail. I just need to see him one last time.”
Father pursed his lips. He took a pathway that ran in the opposite direction to the lion’s entrance.
Chaya didn’t even know about this place, that the palace complex had an underground prison at the bottom, hidden from view, where the King’s prisoners were held. So it wasn’t just gardens and pools on the ground level. A silvery path sloped through a brick archway flecked with moss, and downwards to what looked like an underground complex.
More guards. This time they stopped Father, examining the document giving them access. One looked quizzically at Chaya, but Father quickly pointed out the clause authorising her on the document too, and he waved them through.
The Girl Who Stole an Elephant Page 3
