by Amanda Lees
The apartment door swung back. Kumari blinked in astonishment. The woman who filled the doorway was as wide as she was tall. Oh my goodness, she thought. This woman is a giant plum. A shiny purple top strained to cover an ample chest while her bottom bulged over burgundy leggings that cut in halfway up her calves. Her skin was bronzed, a shade darker than Kumari’s, her hair a dazzling confection of twisted curls topped off with mauve tips.
Unsmiling, she led them through. The noise was deafening. In the corner of the shabby room, a box blared out at full volume. Kumari was mesmerised; across a glass screen pictures moved. There were people inside that box – how did they shrink them like that? This was powerful magic indeed. A face filled the screen, a man with bouffant hair and orange skin. Even as she watched, the man disappeared to be replaced by a chicken dancing.
‘Honey’
‘Hey, sweetie.’
White noise buzzed through Kumari’s brain, as it did each time these people spoke to her. The sound seemed to grow louder and louder. Frantically, she scanned the room. She had to get away from this place, this terrifying purple woman. They were between her and the door. She could only think of one way to go. Maybe those people in the box would help her . . .
Taking a deep breath, Kumari leapt headfirst for the screen. A sharp crack and she fell to the ground, clutching her skull in agony. Stars danced before her eyes. The room whizzed round and round. She could feel herself falling down, down, giving in to darkness once more . . .
CHAPTER 3
Her headache was beginning to subside as claustrophobia set in. She had awoken in a room so small that she could touch both walls at the same time. Which is exactly what she did.
It beat staring out the window right next to the bed or counting the cracks in the wooden floor.
Beside her lay a pile of clothing that the plum-clad woman had left. She unfolded the first item: a thick, grey hooded top. Next, a pair of rough, blue trousers such as a peasant farmer might wear. With a grunt of disgust, Kumari flung them to one side. OK, so she was not exactly hip, but even she had her limits. She would wear her red robes for the moment, dirty and stained though they were. And then she remembered. She still had her ceremonial bag, concealed in the folds of her robes. Excitedly, she rummaged through it. Her journal was there. Everything else had been left on the hillside, but this, the most important item, was safe in her hands.
All her notes on secret ceremonies, all her innermost thoughts, hopes and wishes. The stuff she would hate anyone else to read, especially the bits about Tenzin. Most precious of all, the miniature portrait of Mamma, tucked carefully between the pages. Extracting it, Kumari placed it on the pillow before leafing through her book. Was it really only one moon since she had written these words?
Imperial Blessing Day. Boring. Was yawning so much into my sleeve, I forgot to keep an eye on Badmash. Next thing I know, he’d eaten the Holy Honey Cake meant for Papa. By the time I realised, all that was left was a pile of crumbs. Papa was unimpressed to say the least – I had to banish Badmash to my bedroom. Saw Tenzin in the front row but pretended not to. Ha! Should have seen his face!
Or this entry, dated a few moons earlier:
Today there was a procession with Mamma’s portrait. All the school kids threw flower petals. I wish I’d been with them instead of all alone on my palanquin. I kept my head down – my eyes are so puffy and red. I don’t want anyone to see them, especially not the person who might have murdered Mamma. I don’t want them to think I’m suffering. It’s much better to appear strong.
And then there was one even earlier, the ink blurred by teardrops. Kumari stared at it hard, her eyes pricking once more.
They took Mamma away today. I miss her . . .
‘I miss her,’ whispered Kumari.
Now it seemed she would never get her back. She missed Papa too, in a different sort of way. Much as she loved her Papa, at times she felt as if she hardly knew him anymore. Right now, for instance, she had no idea what he would be thinking. He might not even have noticed that she’d gone until someone else pointed it out. Even when he was well, Papa was somewhat distracted. It was not that he didn’t care, more that he had so much on his mind. It must be hard being a god-king, with all that responsibility to bear. Or so Mamma had always told her. Poor Papa. Since he had started to get sick, he had become more remote than ever.
Closing her journal with a sigh, Kumari tried to work out what to do. Although this room had no bars, it was as much a prison as the last. She had no knowledge of the World Beyond apart from the RHM’s tales. No means of communication. No way of getting home. If she tried to escape, she would be lost in an instant. She was stuck in this foreign place without her only friend. Her heart twisted at the thought. She could not bear to think of Badmash, to wonder what they had done to him, even to hope he was safe. She only knew that he was no longer there, her constant companion. They must have abandoned him, or worse. Now she was truly alone.
The realisation bit deep. Kumari doubled over with the pain of it, rocking backwards and forwards, resting her head on her knees. She wanted to howl aloud, to scream out her helplessness. Instead, she tried to think. There had to be a way out. Cocooned in despair, she became aware of a ticking noise. Glancing at the door, she saw an instrument above it, circular in shape, numerals arrayed around its edge. As she watched, a thin arm swept round the circle while two others pointed in turn directly up and down. Fascinated, she stared as each arm shifted position, the two fractionally thicker ones moving slowly, the thinner one keeping up its continuous sweep.
This instrument measured something, that much was obvious. And then it dawned on her. This thing was apportioning Time!
Its markings were gradations, signposts on its remorseless sweep. Kumari shrank in horror. This was a clock, mechanically counting down the days. For the people in the World Beyond, there was no escaping Time. It hung over them like a sentence, the clock taunting them with the evidence. Look at me, it mocked, see how swiftly your life is passing. Listen to me ticking it off. Work out how much you have left.
Kumari shut her eyes. She could feel the weight of it. Now she was trapped, too. And she had but a year and a day. A year and a day in the World Beyond and then she would succumb to it. Time would claim her for its own, as it did everyone here. No longer protected by the Holy Mountain, she would die many miles from home. The breath stalled in her chest. A gulp choked up her throat.
‘Help me,’ she sobbed.
The ticking intensified, matching the throb in her temples. It grew so loud that it filled her mind, blocking out all other sound. Tick, tick, tick. Tap, tap, tap.
Once again, Kumari lifted her head. She waited, listening, and heard it again. Not a tick – but a tap. Her eyes flicked to the window. The tap had a hollow sound. Like fingernails on glass. Or perhaps even the beak of a baby bird . . . She could make out a shape through the grimy pane, a shape at once blurred but familiar. Pressing her nose to the glass she took a good look.
‘Badmash!’ she cried.
Kumari wrenched at the window, trying to open it. At last she succeeded and Badmash crawled through the gap. Bedraggled, emaciated, he fell into her open arms. His half-closed eyes showed delight, despite the exhaustion of his journey across the world.
‘Oh, Badmash,’ Kumari crooned. ‘How on earth did you find me?’
His feet were gnarled, his claws broken as if he had clung on to something for dear life.
Gently, she stroked his feathers. Under her fingertips, she could feel his ribs poking through. And then something else; a hard ring around his neck. Parting his feathers, Kumari exposed a band of silver.
‘My amulet!’ she cried. ‘Badmash, you clever thing!’
He must have found it on the hillside and wriggled his head through it. Dropping a kiss on his beak, Kumari slipped the amulet on to her wrist. It gleamed against her skin and instantly things seemed better. If only she could remember how to activate it. Then she would feel truly safe.
&n
bsp; Just at that moment, there was a knock on the door. Hastily, Kumari shoved Badmash under the covers. A few seconds later, the purple woman squeezed into the room.
‘Hi,’ she said brightly, exposing her teeth again.
‘Hi,’ mimicked Kumari. This must be their form of greeting. The buzzing was back in her ears but she did her best to ignore it. Instead, she parroted. It seemed like the best idea.
‘Meeeee Maaaaa,’ said the woman, pointing a finger at her ample chest.
Kumari gawped at the finger. It was adorned with the biggest ring she’d ever seen. Come to that, so were all the others. It was amazing she could even lift her hand.
‘Meeee Maaaaa,’ Ma repeated, raising her voice and speaking slower. ‘Me Ma Hernandez!’
Ma pointed to the clock and then held up seven and a half fingers, a manoeuvre that involved much complicated knuckle bending.
‘Gotta go get food. Be back soon.’
Kumari nodded and smiled. She had no idea what Ma meant. It was best to keep her sweet, though, until she could work out some escape plan. She leaned back on the pillow, as if to indicate she would rest now; lull the woman into a false sense of security while she worked out what to do. Unfortunately, however, she had miscalculated. As Kumari settled back, an angry squawk rang out. Hastily, Kumari coughed. Ma’s eyebrows shot up. Kumari coughed again then yawned, indicating Ma should leave. Just go, she thought fiercely. Mercifully Ma did. When the door clicked to, Kumari let out a long breath.
‘That was close,’ she scolded Badmash, hauling him out from his hiding place.
Badmash nibbled her cheek. She could never stay cross with him for long.
Kumari waited a moment, listening, after the front door finally banged shut. Silence reigned in the apartment. Even the talking box held its tongue. Cautiously she crept from her room, cradling Badmash in her arms. She tried the front door. Locked. These people were not stupid. Other doors led off the hallway. The first one she tried was also locked. The second opened on to a cupboard stuffed with sheets and towels. The third hung off its hinges, revealing a narrow room lined with more cupboards. Cautiously, she opened the nearest. It contained nothing but cracked plates. Another cupboard, larger and shinier, enticed her further along. She grasped the handle on the front and hauled its door open to reveal shelves. A blast of cold air hit her in the face. Light shone into her eyes.
Startled, Kumari leapt back, banging her elbow on the sink behind. This was some kind of magic cupboard, she could tell by the fine mist that wafted out. On its shelves were packages. She picked up a box at random. The finger-shaped cake she pulled from it looked nothing like its picture. Exploding creamily in her mouth, it was like eating sweetened cloud. She offered some to Badmash. Big mistake. He stuck in his beak and sucked the cake dry of cream, gobbling the remnants with fierce concentration before looking up for more. Kumari fed him the rest of the box but still he looked hungry. She reached into the cupboard again and pulled out a canister. There were red symbols emblazoned across it that read E-A-S-Y C-H-E-E-S-E.
No idea what that means, thought Kumari, pressing the button on the top. A yellow stream shot forth, entangling Badmash in a sticky web. Kumari began to giggle, offending him deeply. He might be a baby vulture but Badmash had his pride. Squawking with outrage, he began to jump up and down on the button. His first two attempts missed. The third hit her wetly in the ear.
‘OK, OK, truce!’ she cried, wiping his efforts from her earlobe. Thirsty now, she grabbed a bottle from the magic cupboard and held it up to the light. The contents appeared dark, a gaseous, murky brew. Steeling herself, she took a slug.
‘Urk!’
Instantly, she spat it out. Her tongue was tingling, her taste buds dancing. Actually, this stuff was not so bad. She took another swig.
Piling a plate with all the food she could find, Kumari decided to explore some more. She tucked the bottle of brown liquid under her arm. It made her feel curiously alert. The next room along turned out to be Ma’s bedroom. She could tell by the outsize clothing draped over every surface. Ma certainly had unusual taste, as well as a penchant for fancy footwear. Kumari slipped her foot into a silver shoe, its sole stacked and squishy She hopped up and down a couple of times, admiring the fluorescent flash on one side.
Spying a pink, sparkly cap she jammed it down on her head. Rummaging through the piles for more, she unearthed a long scarf made of feathers. Adding a frilly jacket, she gazed at herself in the wardrobe mirror. The sleeves hung a foot from her hands; the cap obscured half her face. Pleased with the effect Kumari began to twirl, faster and faster. Slithering down, the feather scarf tripped her up and she fell backwards on to the bed. She seemed to sink forever into its soft embrace, its aged springs sighing soggily. Compared to the unyielding wooden beds in the kingdom this was a positive invitation to play. Scrambling to her knees, Kumari began to bounce, higher and higher. Whooping with delight she flung herself around, Badmash flapping beside her.
All of a sudden, she noticed that Badmash was no longer there.
‘Badmash? Where are you?’
She found him trembling in a corner.
He was staring at a table half-hidden by a screen. Upon it sat a candle, carved into the shape of a skull. Adorning it, a crown of leaves. Before it, a dish of incense. Kumari wrinkled her nose. It smelt resinous, familiar. The whole arrangement sat on a golden cloth draped across the table.
‘It’s OK, Badmash,’ she cooed. ‘It’s only an altar.’
So they had altars in the World Beyond. Which meant ceremonial magic. Maybe it was not so different to the kingdom after all. Only Time would tell.
The sound of the front door opening sent Kumari scuttling back to her room, shedding Ma’s clothes. Not two seconds after she had shut her door, it opened again.
‘Hi,’ said a friendly voice. Two voices in fact. Two smiling faces stared at her, almost identical in every respect.
‘I’m LeeLee,’ said one.
‘And I’m CeeCee,’ said the other.
Kumari gawped at them. She had never seen two girls look so alike. They didn’t look to be much older than her which made them Ma’s daughters, she would guess. There was a resemblance to Ma in their eyes and in their mouths although their hairstyles were more sober, tied back neatly behind their heads.
‘Oooooh, cuuuute,’ said CeeCee, suddenly spotting Badmash. Too late, Kumari realised he was still perched upon the bed. Sweeping him up in her arms, CeeCee cuddled him as LeeLee petted him. Or maybe it was the other way round. Kumari felt thoroughly confused. Still, they appeared to like Badmash, which was a great relief. She had been so afraid they would refuse to let him stay. Not everyone liked small, scruffy birds.
While CeeCee carried Badmash, LeeLee took Kumari by the hand. Together, they lead her through into the room dominated by the talking box. At the sight of its screen, Kumari’s head began to ache. Patting the long, squashy seat in front of it, the girls gestured to her to sit down.
‘You hungry?’ asked LeeLee, opening her mouth and pointing inside.
Kumari shook her head. Goodness knows what they would produce.
‘OK,’ said LeeLee and sat down beside her. CeeCee sat on the other side, stroking an almost comatose with pleasure Badmash.
One of the girls pressed a button and instantly the talking box sprang to life. Within seconds, Kumari was once again mesmerised, lost to all but its magic. The World Beyond certainly was a curious place. Whatever next?
Sonny Hernandez skulked by the kitchen door. His mom refused to give him any cash.
‘Not until you mend that door,’ she scolded.
‘Yes, Ma,’ he sighed.
‘And another thing, Sonny. I don’t want you bringing those boys here no more.’
‘What boys?’
‘You think I don’t know? I got eyes everywhere, son.’
Sonny gave the door a surreptitious kick. It was not fair, the way she treated him. Always on his case about something. She didn’t treat his sisters t
hat way. Just because they were twins, it didn’t make them special. They were in there now, cooing over the weird kid with the ugly bird. Kid didn’t even speak English. Just sat there in her funny clothes.
‘Where’s that kid from, anyway?’ he muttered.
‘You leave her alone,’ said his mother. ‘That child’s been through enough. Running through the parade like that. Girl could have been killed. No one’s any idea where she’s from or if she has any folks. Makes you wonder how she got here, her and that darn bird.’
‘They don’t know where she’s from?’
‘Nope. She just appeared, all on her own.’
‘What, like from nowhere?’
An idea was forming in Sonny’s mind.
‘Something like that,’ said Ma. ‘It’s a mystery, that’s what it is. You know, like on that TV show. That guy who suddenly appears. Can’t remember nothing, not even his own name. What’s that thing he’s got called? Amn . . . something. I forget.’
Sonny hung back as his mother waddled through into the lounge, in her arms boxes of pizza which she proceeded to hand round.
‘Sonny, come get your pizza.’
‘Just washing my hands, Ma.’
Had Ma paused for thought, she would have considered this odd. She was far too busy, however, sinking her teeth into a Hot One. Seizing his chance, Sonny snuck to the phone.
‘Uh, yeah, Daily News? Got a story for you guys. You get the details for dough, man. You know what I’m saying?’
Sonny Hernandez was not known as Ratboy for nothing. He combined a rodent’s low cunning with its fondness for a free lunch. His latest scam was selling stories, a nice little sideline. So far, he had ratted on an ex-soccer star now peddling dope, and the sleazebag trainer of the local swimming squad. As he waited to be transferred to the news desk, a smile stole across Sonny’s face. This story was definitely worth a few bucks, he could feel it in his bones. Sell out that kid and he could pay off what he owed. Sonny began to hum under his breath.
