SEVEN
ANDA MANGIL WAS parked not in the street in front of the She-Po Gold Market but behind it, in a narrow alleyway that ran along the back of the gold dealers’ shops. Not only did he not look surprised to see them, but he was dressed in quite different clothes from the neatly pressed white shirt and dark trousers that they had seen him in earlier that day. He was in the dress of a Kotabunga courtier: a magnificent white, dark-blue, and brown flower-patterned sarong; a high-necked dark-blue jacket of the finest cotton, bordered with gilt; with a pure white shirt underneath. Around his waist, he wore a cloth belt, and at this belt, he wore a lovely bronzescabbarded kris. On his head was a silk headdress like Adi’s. The simple man Anda Mangil had become someone almost unrecognizable. The only thing that was the same about him was the pendant he always wore on a chain around his neck—a charm in the shape of a mandala. Even his manner had changed. It had become solemn, courtly, dignified.
“Lady Kwanyin,” he said, getting out of the car and bowing, “it is an honor to see you.”
“It is a pleasure to see you, dear Anda Mangil.” Kwanyin smiled. She put a hand on the car’s hood. “And your dear friend the car. How well she looks! I am not one for machines, Anda Mangil—but for this one, I make an exception.”
Was it her imagination, Dewi thought, or did the car shift slightly on its wheels, as if giving a little squirm of pleasure under Kwanyin’s hand?
Anda Mangil beamed. “You do us both much honor, Lady Kwanyin.”
“Now, you know what has to be done, my dear friend. Take care of them—and of yourself. Remember, Anda Mangil, that this is a dangerous enemy. The more protection you have, the better.”
“I had thought of stopping at Chandi Maya, Lady Kwanyin,” said Anda Mangil. He gestured to a basket on the seat beside him. “For that very purpose I have brought gifts to offer in the Temple of the Great Mother.”
“Excellent,” said Kwanyin. She turned to Adi and Dewi. “Farewell, my dear children. Farewell, and all my blessings go with you.”
They chorused their thanks and got into the car. They waved to Kwanyin as they pulled away from the curb.
“She was so kind,” murmured Adi. “Kind and friendly.”
“The Lady Kwanyin understands many things,” said Anda Mangil. “She is a spirit of unusual distinction, perhaps because she is still lonely and a little lost in Jayangan, and understands human uncertainties better than many of our own spirits who have never left the world of Jayangan.”
How strange it is to be here in the familiar, friendly interior of the big car, thought Dewi, to sit looking at the back of Anda Mangil’s head as he drove, and know she was looking at someone she thought she knew but didn’t really.
“Anda Mangil,” she asked uncertainly, “did you know we were supposed to go and see the Lady Kwanyin in Kotabunga?”
He shook his head. “No. I knew nothing of any of this until the Lady Kwanyin sent for me.” He paused. “I knew then I could not stand by. Not while the hantumu took my good friend, your father, Dewi. Oh, child, we live in dark and troubled times.” He looked at Dewi in the rearview mirror, and she saw his eyes were full of a sadness she had never seen in them before. “Of course I knew about what had happened in other parts of Jayangan, but I hoped, like your father, that our little world of Bumi Macan might be spared. Now I know that was an unworthy hope. None of us will be spared. We must fight. Whatever we do may fail. But it is our only chance, or evil will overtake our land. The Demon King grows hungry for power again, and all of us who love Jayangan must fight him if he is not to destroy everything.”
Adi and Dewi both shivered. The Demon King went by different names in Jayangan, according to your religion: Mujisals called him Iblis, Nashranees called him the Dragon, and Dharbudsus called him Rawana. But whatever name he was called by, the lord of evil—and his demon allies and human accomplices—wreaked havoc and chaos and destruction in both human and spirit worlds. Good needed champions if it was to defeat evil. But it was a hard thing to face, knowing it was you who had been chosen for this difficult and frightening task. How could you know if you would ever be up to it?
Adi spoke the thought aloud. “Why us? Kwanyin said it was because we were good and brave, but I do not feel myself to be either. Besides, my master was good and brave, and he was taken.”
“Perhaps it is this. The evil we have to face wears a different mask from in the past. You are children of modern Jayangan, so it is up to you, as much as your elders. For it is not just the past we are defending, but our present and our future.” He smiled, and the light of it transformed his face, so that he looked once more like the old, cheerful Anda Mangil. “I am nothing special, either, you see. I am an elderly fool who is too mad about his dear friend, an elderly car. But you see, perhaps that is why I am here now. I know this car so well, I understand all its workings—more, I understand its soul. This is no ordinary car. It can sometimes do things that…that seem impossible to everyday eyes. This is a new magic, and it, too, can be used, as well as the old things. Perhaps you and Dewi have, or will find, other such magics.”
Adi and Dewi looked swiftly at each other. “What magics?” said Dewi.
“You will have to discover them, I think. But this I know—though I am afraid of what lies ahead, I know we are doing the right thing. I know I was born to be of help in this task. And I am glad that the Lady Kwanyin called me.” He smiled suddenly, a darting, mischievous smile. “And of course, I am delighted that it includes the opportunity to drive my dear girl farther than I have done for some time. I hope you’re up to the task, dear one,” he said, with a little tap on the wheel. Both Adi and Dewi jumped when the car horn—no doubt pressed by Anda Mangil—gave a loud and seemingly indignant blast. Anda Mangil laughed. “There, there,” he said gently, “no need to take on so, dear friend.”
Adi and Dewi smiled at each other. “He really is mad about it,” whispered Adi, and Dewi whispered back, “He’s always been teased about it, back home.” All of a sudden, the atmosphere, which had been so grave, lightened.
An hour passed. They had left the city far behind now and were out in the countryside, on the far southern side of Kotabunga. The landscape had quite changed. The green paddy fields and pleasant little villages to the north of Kotabunga had been replaced by dryer, harsher land and the air was more dusty. This was the way to Chandi Maya, vast temple complex of the ancient Dharbudsu kings, and one of Jayangan’s sacred places. Dewi had never been this far from her home territory before.
She looked down at her lap and the rustling golden stuff of her clothes; the thrill that was half excitement and half fear filled her again. She looked at her finger, at the ruby glowing like a miniature fire in its golden setting. Fire! It was like fire! The thought made her glance over at Adi’s finger, and the ring he wore. Its design seemed familiar to her. Surely it was just like…like…
“Adi!” she hissed. “Do you still have that picture, you know, of Rajadi, the famous kris? The one that was left behind on the road?”
Adi stared at her, then nodded. He put a hand inside his jacket, slid out the little square of muddy colored paper, and handed it to Dewi. It was said that the kris Rajadi had been made centuries ago for King Senopati, the legendary ruler who was supposed to have built the huge temples of Chandi Maya in a single day. The kris had a finely incised black skystone blade made of thousands of layers, a blade that had never, in hundreds of years, shown the slightest sign of rust. Magical words were written on the blade, words of such potency that it was believed they held the very heart of the power of the Sultans of Jayangan. They had inherited Rajadi from their Dharbudsu ancestors and kept it safe in the palace in Kotabunga. Rajadi’s scabbard was made of pure gold, worked through with filaments of silver and set with precious stones. And its hilt was made of ivory, with crystal and silver in it. It looked just like Adi’s ring….
Adi saw the similarity too. He went pale. “What does it mean?” he whispered.
Dewi said, “I th
ink it means I have Fire and you have Sword, Adi.”
“A kris is a dagger, not a sword,” objected Adi.
“But perhaps it’s symbolic of a sword. Maybe these rings aren’t just for protection. Maybe we’ll be shown how to use them in Siluman.”
Adi took back the picture of Rajadi and put it away. “How can that be?” he muttered.
“Lady Kwanyin said we had to discover them!” said Dewi excitedly. “Remember? Adi, perhaps we only have to find Snow.” A dizzying thought, born of what Anda Mangil had said, suddenly pumped in her head. If she had Fire, and Adi had Sword, then Anda Mangil must have Snow. “Anda Mangil!” she cried.
Anda Mangil gave a start, and the car wobbled a little. “What is wrong, Dewi?”
“Your hands, Anda Mangil, your hands. Are you wearing a ring?”
“A ring?” said Anda Mangil, puzzled.
“Yes!”
“No, I’m not wearing a ring,” he said, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “What’s wrong?”
Crestfallen, Dewi said, “It…well, I hoped you might have Snow, because I think Adi and I have Fire and Sword.”
Now Anda Mangil looked completely baffled. “I don’t understand.”
“Did the Lady Kwanyin tell you we had to find Snow, Fire, Sword?” said Dewi.
He nodded. “Yes. But she said you were going on a quest to find them. She did not say that you already had them.”
“Yes, but she said we had to discover them. Maybe that means we have to deduce what they are. I thought perhaps the rings we were given for protection…” She lifted up her hand to show him. “And Adi’s got one too. They could be Fire and Sword! The power of those things could lie in these rings. Magic often lies in rings, doesn’t it? That’s why I asked if you had been given a ring, because it could have been Snow.”
Anda Mangil shook his head. “No. The Lady Kwanyin did not give me a ring of protection, because I do not need it. I am just taking you to Siluman, and waiting there till you come back from the realm of the Queen of the Southern Sea.”
“It seems a little too easy to me, anyway, Dewi,” said Adi gloomily. “We didn’t have to look for them or discover them—the Lady gave them to us. Besides, she said she didn’t know what they were.”
Anda Mangil broke in. “We are almost at Chandi Maya. We will ask for the guidance of Lord Senopati in this matter, as well as protection. He will know at least if this ring you wear, Adi, truly has the spirit of Sword, if it is based on his own kris. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” they echoed, and leaned back in their seats, heads whirling with excited thoughts and questions.
EIGHT
THE GREAT CARVED stone towers and spires and stupas of Chandi Maya rose from the flat plain like ancient giants slowly rising to their feet. Built in the old days when the Dharbudsu Kings had ruled over Jayangan, before the coming of the Mujisals from Al Aksara, the Great Desert, Chandi Maya had fallen into disrepair over the centuries but was still an impressive, awe-inspiring place.
There were at least thirty temples in Chandi Maya, linked by a maze of stone avenues. The biggest temple of all stood in the middle of the maze, and this is where Anda Mangil was leading them. Not another soul walked along the great avenues of broken stone; not a sound, except for that of their own footsteps, broke the eerie silence. Dewi and Adi felt uneasy. The silence was almost like a living thing, a waiting thing. They kept close to Anda Mangil. Sometimes he would pause and give a little nod, or a bow, this way and that, in respect to the ancient spirits and Dharbudsu gods whose holy place this was.
They reached the huge central temple, the Temple of the Great Mother. Towering above them, it was a truly splendid sight: Every square centimeter of its surface was carved with scenes from the ancient stories; its yellow-white stone glittered in the sun as if it were made of gold. There were no windows, only a dark doorway. A long, steep flight of stone steps led up to the doorway, and Anda Mangil started up these without hesitation. Dewi followed suit, but Adi, struck with a sudden fright, stared up at the doorway, which looked for all the world like a giant’s open mouth. He had never set eyes on a place like Chandi Maya. The Dharbudsu temples he’d seen back home were cheerful little wooden open-air pavilions, with flags fluttering, and flowers, and incense.
Anda Mangil turned. “Come, Adi,” he said gently. “There is nothing to be afraid of. This is a good place. I can vouch for it.”
Adi felt for the tiny silver heart he wore under his finery. “I hope you are right,” he said with an effort at a light tone, starting up the steps.
As Dewi came closer to the yawning darkness of the doorway, she could sense a presence more and more strongly. There was someone—something—there, she was sure of it. She wanted to talk to Anda Mangil about it, to be reassured, but she could not open her mouth. Her feet just kept moving of their own accord, drawing her up, and up. Anda Mangil reached the doorway, stepped through it, and disappeared, as if a hand had reached out from inside and whipped him in. The hair rose stiffly on the back of her neck; a cold sweat broke out on her brow. She stopped and waited till Adi reached her on the steps. She whispered, “Are you all right?”
“Perfectly,” said Adi, though he looked pale. “Are you?”
“Oh, I’m fine. I was just waiting for you to catch up.”
Their eyes met. Adi quietly extended a hand to Dewi. “Shall we go in together?” he whispered. Dewi swallowed, nodded. Shyly, she put a hand in his. So, together, they crossed the threshold. Instantly, they were enveloped in darkness. As their eyes began to adjust, they saw Anda Mangil bowing before an altar of plain stone, chanting quietly. He had taken the gifts out of his basket—flowers, fruits, beeswax candles—and laid them on the stone.
In front of him was a beautiful golden statue of the Great Mother, a woman with a fierce but lovely face and many arms. Her many hands held, among other things, fruits and flowers, and skulls and bones. To one side of the altar was another figure, of stone this time: a massive and extraordinarily lifelike statue of a warrior. It had a handsome face under a coiled, tall headdress, armor on much of its body, and a large kris clasped to its breast with both hands. Suddenly it moved, sending flickers of light throughout the temple. So sudden was the movement, so bright the flashes of light in the darkness, that Adi and Dewi had no chance to move or even cry out; they just watched in petrified terror as the stone figure, unclasping its hands, stretched its arms out to either side of it. In one hand, it still grasped the kris. It was the blade that was making those flickers of light.
Dewi and Adi were so frightened that they felt as if they had been turned to stone themselves. The splendid folds of their clothes lay stiff and cold on them; their hearts seemed to have stopped beating. Only their still-joined hands felt even slightly warm.
“Why do you disturb the peace of the Temple of the Great Mother? I am the guardian of the temple, Senopati.” The voice was huge, booming. The face was human and yet not. It stayed within its carapace of stone, and yet the carved cheeks and nose and forehead rippled slightly, the way stone and earth ripple in a quake. The eyes stayed fixed, the expression eternally frozen.
Anda Mangil spoke, calmy, courteously. “Great Lord Senopati, warrior of renown, destroyer of the wicked, we bring gifts for the Great Mother, in the hope she may grant us protection. And we would like your guidance, O Senopati. We are Anda Mangil, Adi, and Dewi, and we seek Snow, Fire, and Sword, to defeat the forces of evil that once more threaten Jayangan.”
The kris flashed once, twice, three times; then Lord Senopati’s great hands brought the dagger down, with great delicacy, onto the altar. The great voice rumbled, “It was right you came here, for I have a warning. Snow, Fire, Sword you seek. These must be found, and held. Without them, you are in very great danger indeed. Your enemy knows of your existence, and of what you seek, and he will search to find you before you can accomplish your task.”
There was a dismayed silence. Then Anda Mangil said, “Our enemy knows what we seek, O Lord?”
/> “Yes. He will try to find them before you do. And he will try to use them for his own ends. He will try to stop you getting to them.”
“But Lord Senopati, does he know, then, what Snow, Fire, Sword are?”
“No. He does not. But that is even more dangerous. Beware! He will have you followed to see if you find them—and then take them himself.”
“Great Lord,” said Dewi, daring to break in, “how do you know these things that even the spirits do not?”
The great stone warrior turned his head stiffly to face her. “I am not a spirit like the others. They were never human, but I was. I was once a man, and now I live only in this form, for my body has gone to the land of the dead. I am neither fully human nor fully spirit, but a dweller in the shadowlands between, and so I see things neither spirits nor humans see. I meet the ghosts of those who have passed like me into the shadowlands. And from some of these, who have been murdered by the enemy who hunts you, I have learned certain things.”
“O Lord Senopati,” Dewi said, “were any of those who spoke to you named Bapar Wiriyanto or Empu Wesiagi?”
“No,” said Senopati.
“Lord Senopati, are any bearing those names in the shadowlands? If…if they are there, they would just have arrived.”
There was silence; then Senopati said, “There is no one of those names newly arrived in the shadowlands.”
Hope flared in Adi’s and Dewi’s faces. Adi said, “Lord Senopati, did you hear—can you see—can you tell us the nature of what we seek? Are they rings? Are they talismans, or instruments of power?”
“No,” said Senopati. “Snow, Fire, and Sword are to be your companions in this fight, and not just instruments of power. I do not know exactly what or who these companions are. I know the enemy seeks the same things, but I do not know who he is. I can tell you this. When I was alive, I fought the hordes of the Demon King, and living eternally in Chandi Maya was my reward. I have known many wicked men who have fought under the banner of the Demon King. Some chose evil because of their greed, their lust for power, their hunger to destroy. This one shares some of these things. But something else drives him too—something I cannot understand, something that makes him different from the evil men I have known before. This enemy has veiled his face.”
Snow, Fire, Sword Page 5
