by Jamila Gavin
‘Hello, Abu! So glad you found me.’
He stopped, frozen, on the threshold. A creaking, squeaking voice came out of the darkness. A low flame in a lantern was turned up to reveal the most ancient creature he had ever seen; so black that she was barely divisible from the darkness of the room. She was sitting cross-legged on a rich, patterned carpet, her long grey locks tumbling from her head like writhing snakes.
Miskouri sprang and coiled up into her lap, purring loudly.
‘Come closer, Abu, so I can see you.’
‘You know me?’ he whispered.
‘My sister told me you were coming.’
Abu could hardly imagine how, from one day to the next, the message had reached her. He approached slowly, still braced to run away. ‘Are you Shasti?’
‘Don’t be scared. I’m your friend. Sit down . . .’ She waved him towards an old, split leather chair with its horse-hair stuffing hanging out. ‘Yes, I am Shasti.’
He moved across to the chair, but sat on the very edge, upright and tense, ready to flee. ‘What’s Miskouri doing here? Have you got Leyla?’
‘Miskouri came to me because she knows I’m the only one who can help you to find your sister,’ she murmured. ‘But it won’t be easy. You have heard of the Purple Lady? She wishes for eternal life; to be young for ever. So she snatches away the young and beautiful, and strips them of their essence – their youth, and their souls – and leaves their broken skeletons in the Cave of Bones.’
Abu wept to think of Leyla in such a place.
‘You will have to find the cave and, from a great pile, collect every single one of your sister’s bones. Then you must find the Well of Eyes, identify which are Leyla’s and keep them ready to put back in her sockets. You must cross the Lake of Reflections and reassemble her on the far shore. But the lake is deadly. Beneath its surface lives the Image Snatcher. If even one bit of you is reflected on the surface, whether by sunlight or moonlight, the Image Snatcher will grab it. You will be dragged into the waters below, and that will be the end of you.’
Abu shuddered at what Shasti told him, and would have given up immediately had he not remembered his parents’ grief. Only he could save his sister from the Purple Lady. ‘What must I do if I manage to put all Leyla’s bones together and cross the Lake of Reflections – what then?’ he asked fearfully.
‘You must enter the Amethyst Palace, where you will find Leyla’s soul.’
‘I don’t know, I don’t know!’ It seemed a terrible task; an impossible task. Abu leaned back, suddenly overwhelmed with despair. ‘And what if I see the Purple Lady? Am I not doomed? I’ve heard she makes people look into her eyes, then steals their minds. How will I be able to stop myself? Won’t she steal me too?’
‘Ah! You understand the problem,’ murmured the old woman.
‘What can I do?’
‘I can make you blind.’
Abu shuddered at what that would mean. ‘How can I find Leyla without eyes to see?’ he asked despairingly.
‘I can give you an ointment,’ Shasti told him, ‘which, once you smear on your eyelids, will make you blind for three days. The good thing is that your hearing will be as sharp as a bat’s, your smell as keen as a fox’s, and your touch will be as sensitive as snowflakes. But there is one mixed blessing: the ointment gives you the ability to listen in to the thoughts of all living things. You may hear good things and bad things. You know how it is with folk – they say one thing and think another.’
‘Isn’t that always the way in this world?’ murmured Abu, and accepted the small bone box that Shasti held out to him. Inside was a strange green ointment. ‘What do I pay?’
‘I will want one of your eyes should you succeed in finding your sister.’
Abu couldn’t deny that he felt a jolt in his stomach at such an unexpected price. But then he thought, One eye for the return of my sister is surely not too high a price to pay. So he agreed, and carefully slipped the bone box into his breast pocket.
‘Stay here till daybreak, then catch the bus back into the city,’ said the old woman, ‘and get off at the Purple Gates.’
Shasti gave Abu a draught of sweet herbal tea. His body relaxed, and he slumped back into the chair and slept.
Pale threads of dawn were already filtering through the curtains when he awoke. At some point in the night Miskouri had come and curled up on his lap. She leaped off, arched her back and stretched, as if ready for the day. It was time to go. Abu uncoiled himself from the chair, then got a shock, for Shasti was still sitting where she’d been the night before, cross-legged on her carpet. In the dawn light, she no longer looked old; she was like a young girl. Yet although her eyes were open, she didn’t see him, as though she were asleep or in a trance, and did not stir when he whispered her name.
No point in waking her, thought Abu. He noticed a large sack by the door. He knew what it was for, and shivered. Next to it lay a rope, an axe, a bundle of provisions to keep him going for three days, and a long, fine velvet lead. On the table, beneath a small silver box, was a note which read: The sack is to collect your sister’s bones and the silver box is for your sister’s eyes. Miskouri will be your guide. Farewell, Abu.
He scribbled a reply: A million thanks. If I live, I will return to pay my debt.
Abu wound the rope around his waist, and tucked the axe into it. Then, slinging the sack over his shoulder and putting the silver box in his other breast pocket, he slipped out of the door, back down the stone steps and, with the velvet lead in his hand, followed Miskouri over the wall.
The bus was ready to leave, its engine running. Passengers were already in their seats when Abu raced up. He slid Miskouri inside his jacket and climbed aboard.
‘Where to?’ asked the driver, taking his coin.
‘The end of the line.’ Abu was reluctant to say where he wanted to alight.
The bus set off. The passengers it collected on the way were the same people as yesterday. There was the old Sikh, and the woman clutching the edge of her veil; the same man with his hat pulled low over his brow, reading his newspaper, and the head-scarved lady with her basket on her knee. The place next to her was empty, so Abu sat down. ‘Good day, madam,’ he said gently.
‘You’re back,’ she murmured.
‘As are you,’ he replied.
She sighed.
They said nothing more, as the bus wound its way through the awakening city streets. The crowds, surging along to work, thickened. They were nearing the Purple Gates. The people on the bus dropped their heads and hid their eyes. Miskouri stirred beneath Abu’s jacket, her body stiff with anxiety. As before, he glimpsed in the hurly-burly a flash of purple. He saw the cloaked figure moving through the crowd; he knew that within the dark hood was the face of the Purple Lady, whose eyes he must not look into. Yet already he felt bewitched.
Miskouri’s claws dug into him. ‘Now! Use the ointment now,’ she was urging.
Abu’s hand closed over the silver box of ointment in his pocket. He was overwhelmed by a desire to see the face in the hood. Miskouri’s claws dug deeper; drew blood. Still staring out of the window, unable to tear his gaze away, he opened the box and, with his little finger, smeared the ointment over his eyelids. Immediately, he was pitched into darkness.
Abu grabbed his sack and got to his feet. ‘I – I’ll get off here,’ he stammered. Never had he felt so bewildered and disorientated.
‘Here?’ The old woman sounded terrified.
‘No, good sir – don’t risk it . . .’ Abu knew it was the old Sikh who spoke.
‘I’ve got to try and find my sister. Maybe I’ll find your son or daughter. Who knows.’ And he groped his way down the swaying bus.
The driver looked solidly ahead. ‘I don’t usually stop here. This isn’t the end of the line. There’s another mile to go.’
‘Never mind,’ said Abu firmly. ‘I’ll get off.’ The bus stopped, then immediately pulled away again with a jerk, before he had barely set foot on the ground.
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Abu cursed himself, realizing that he hadn’t thought of bringing a stick to guide him. He stood there, totally blind, with only his ears to guide him, and his stumbling feet to identify his path.
‘Can I help you?’ asked the voice of a youth.
Abu was shocked. He hadn’t heard a sound to indicate that anyone was approaching. But just as Shasti had promised, Abu could hear the youth’s thoughts: This boy is an easy victim. Just in from the country, no doubt with his pockets stuffed with money to spend in the big city.
Blind though he was, Abu knew from the sound of his voice exactly where the young man stood, so he grabbed him by the collar and said, ‘What do you think you’re doing? Speak up before I throw you in the ditch.’
‘Sorry, sorry!’ stammered the youth. ‘I’m new to this city, and haven’t a penny to my name, so spare me a few coins, won’t you? I need some boots – I was robbed of mine.’
Abu realized that this was why he hadn’t heard his approach – but then he was aware of a snuffling and sniffling. ‘Is that the Purple Lady coming towards us?’ he asked. ‘And aren’t those her hounds?’
The cat leaped out of his jacket with a yowl, and was gone. ‘Miskouri!’ Abu cried.
‘I’m off,’ stammered the youth. ‘I’m scared of dogs, and there’s a pack of them coming this way.’
‘Just stay still,’ hissed Abu, holding him fast, ‘and shut your eyes. Whatever you do, don’t open them till I say so.’
Fierce snouts probed their clothes; noses moved over their hands, and tongues licked their faces. Abu gripped the youth’s arm hard to stop him fleeing. ‘Don’t open your eyes,’ he ordered as fiercely as he could.
Abu held his head high, his sightless eyes open. He showed no fear, and at last the creatures moved on. But he was aware of someone else standing before him. He could almost smell the evil. If this was the Purple Lady, she was a giantess. He felt her looking down at him like a looming ocean wave; he felt her breath, not on his cheek, but riffling through his hair like a malevolent wind. The youth at his side quaked with terror.
‘Yah!’ screamed a voice like a high-pitched gale, right into the youth’s face.
His eyes flew open.
‘Gotcha!’ laughed the Purple Lady, and Abu felt the young man being torn out of his grasp.
There was a shriek; the traffic stopped. Abu heard a clang of iron gates, then nothing but the silence of fear: he was alone.
He stood there, chilled and paralysed. When at last he felt able to speak, he called softly, ‘Miski . . . Miski . . . Miskouri! Where are you?’
Once more, the traffic rushed by like an endless, pitiless torrent. How was he to cross the road without his eyes to guide him and no stick to warn others that he was blind? Oh, where was Miskouri? He felt his courage draining away.
Then a soft voice spoke at his elbow. ‘Good sir! Be so kind as to help an old woman across the road, would you?’
‘With pleasure, madam!’ exclaimed Abu, startled out of his dread. He didn’t tell her that he was blind: she would be his eyes. He took her elbow firmly, and let her step into the road, hobbling through the hooting and honking cars and buses and motorbikes.
As they crossed, he heard her thoughts: Has he lost someone? Is he going to go through those gates? Perhaps this man can help me . . . Then she whispered, ‘You’re going to look for someone in that terrible garden, aren’t you? Is it your sweetheart? Is it your sister?’
‘My sister.’ Abu nodded. ‘I must find her.’
‘All this time I’ve been waiting and longing for someone like you. I didn’t think there was anyone brave enough. Then you come along. I would go with you – I have longed to enter those gates – but I am old; too old. Find my granddaughter, I beseech you. Her name is Asaria. Perhaps if you bring Asaria back, it will bring back her mother’s mind too. She is deranged with grief. Oh help us, good sir.’
Then she was gone.
Abu suddenly heard a soft ‘miaow’ and felt a soft furry body coiling in and out of his legs. ‘Miskouri!’ He bent down and picked up the cat. ‘I thought you’d left me,’ he wept, suddenly filled with an inexpressible sadness.
Of course not, silly! Her cat-thoughts entered his head. I just hate dogs.
With outstretched hands, he moved forward, trailing his fingers along walls and railings till he touched the cold hard iron of the gates.
He had barely pushed them, when they opened silently without a squeak or a creak. He stepped inside and entered the kingdom of the Purple Lady. Behind him, the pavements had been seething with people and the streets a cacophony of traffic, but once through the gates he stepped into silence. He heard no one: no traffic, no voices, no birds; nothing. It was as though he was not only blind, but deaf too.
What kind of place was this? Abu took off his boots and threw them into his sack, so that his bare feet could make sense of the terrain. Was this earth? It felt gritty; not like the clay earth of the fields, or his garden; not like the sand by the sea, or the lime of the cliffs; more like ash from a fire or volcano. There was no scent of flowers, no rustle of leaves in the trees, no trickle of fountains.
He fell to his knees and crawled along, touching, sniffing, trying to find grass or flowers, feeling for the trunks of trees; anything that lived. But all seemed utterly barren.
‘What is this place?’ he whispered.
‘A place of nothing,’ mewed Miskouri.
‘How do I know which way to go?’
‘Tie the velvet cord around my neck, and I will lead you,’ instructed the cat.
Gently, he did as she said, and then, with a decisive tug, she led him further into the Purple Kingdom. ‘I see a line of cliffs, jagged as teeth, dropping like stone waterfalls; they are pitted with caves as dark as eyes – lots of caves.’
Abu felt his strength suddenly drain from him. He collapsed on the ground, shaking. ‘How far away are they? How shall we know which is the Cave of Bones?’ He longed to turn back; to give up and admit defeat. ‘I can’t do this!’ he cried.
‘I’m starving!’ miaowed Miskouri.
Abu’s fingers trembled as he opened up the bundle of provisions. He realized he was hungry too. Shasti had given him a bottle of water, cheese sandwiches, salad with herbs, apples and celery, and some chicken for Miskouri. They ate greedily, and as they did so, Abu felt his strength returning, and with it, his courage.
His sharp ears heard a movement; Miskouri heard it too, and her fur stood up. A bird had landed nearby. Abu heard the creature’s thoughts: This foolish youth with his cat . . . looking for a loved one, eh? The Purple Lady had better be told.
The bird watched them for a few seconds, then rose up into the sky and flew eastwards. Miskouri saw it wheel up towards the cliffs, then swoop down and vanish inside one of the caves.
‘Abu, it was one of them. One of the birds that serve the Purple Lady. It will be flying to warn her. I saw it enter a cave – I think I know which one. We must be off.’
Abu felt a chill run through him. He felt as if he were being led to the edge of the world; he could fall off into a void and be lost for ever. ‘How far is it to the cliffs?’ he asked, piling the remainder of the provisions back into his sack.
‘If we hurry, we may get there before nightfall. Abu, trust me,’ pleaded Miskouri, hearing his despair.
A thunderclap shook the air, and suddenly the rain came down like an opened floodgate. There was nowhere – not even a tree – that offered any shelter. Abu scooped Miskouri up into his arms and pushed her into the dry warmth of his jacket. ‘Let’s wait a bit till the rain stops,’ he whispered.
‘No, Abu, there’s no time. The bird will tell the Purple Lady about us. We must get to the cave as quickly as possible. Now put me down and hold the cord. I’ll take you.’
‘But you’ll get so wet,’ he moaned. ‘Think of Leyla. She’s waiting for us . . .’
So Abu put Miskouri down on the sodden ground and she led him onwards, her fur flattened to her body by the pouring rai
n. With head bowed, he held onto the cord and let her lead him.
Abu stumbled on through the mire; he stubbed his bare toes against boulders, and mud squelched around his feet with every step. But suddenly, the rain ceased. Miskouri stopped abruptly. He felt her anxiety quivering along the cord.
‘What can you see?’ he asked. ‘Are we at the cave?’
‘It’s guarded by two of her hounds; they sit like statues on either side of the opening.’
‘What shall we do?’ asked Abu.
Miskouri took a long time thinking. Well, long for a cat: all of ten seconds.
‘If the dogs see me, they’ll chase me. But they won’t catch me. That will be your chance. While they’re after me, you can enter the cave. Just walk twenty paces forward and you’ll reach the opening. Untie my cord and let me lead them on a merry chase.’
‘I thought you hated dogs.’
‘I do, but sometimes necessity overcomes fear. Don’t worry, I’ll find you again when it’s safe.’
Reluctantly, Abu untied the cord and felt it fall free in his hands, as Miskouri leaped away.
He heard a fearsome snarling, and Miskouri gave an equally terrifying yowl. There was a sound of scuffling, then deafening barks gradually diminished into the distance as Miskouri fled, with the dogs in hot pursuit.
Abu counted twenty paces with hands outstretched. At first he touched hard rock; then, suddenly, space. He had stepped into the chill void of a cave. There was a fierce flapping of wings as a bird rushed into his face, pecking at him. Abu whirled around, swiping at it with the sack, and heard its thoughts: Caw! Stupid dogs! Falling for a ruse like that. I told them to go for you, but they can’t help chasing the cat! Idiots! The Purple Lady will hear about this. Then you’ll be for it! And with a fearful screech the bird was gone.
