The Amber Trail

by M. J. Kelly

  He pointed at the wall beside Dig. “Mind if I sit?”

  Dig looked him up and down, then shook his head. “No,” he said, then after a pause, added: “But I’ll just let you know upfront that I’m not interested in buying any type of blessing or statues or tours or photo opportunities or anything like that.”

  The man laughed. “No problem.” He sat down. “I've nothing to sell.”

  Dig dipped his chin. “Sorry. They were a bit pushy down in the shops.”

  “Understandable.” The man glanced back at the temple.

  “This is a beautiful place,” Dig offered.

  “Shh,” the man whispered. “Please, be quiet.”

  Dig followed the man’s gaze back toward the temple. “Are you the priest here? In this temple?”

  “Yes. Now do you want to see something amazing?”

  Dig blinked. “Maybe.”

  “Then sit up straight. And still. Like me.”

  Dig took a glance behind him, expecting to see a boy hiding somewhere, ready to steal his wallet. But the courtyard was empty.

  “Now wait, be still, and listen.”

  Dig frowned and scratched at his arm.

  “Here it comes,” the man said. “Do you hear it?”

  Dig listened. He heard a distant rustle of the wind in the trees, and nothing else but the echo of the large, open space before him. “I don’t think so.”

  “It’s coming.”

  Then, Dig did hear something. The sound of wings pushing through the air.

  “Don’t move.”

  The flapping finished with a click of talons on stone. Again, the multicoloured bird sat beside him on the wall.

  Dig frowned and tucked his bread roll back under his armpit.

  “I said don’t move.”

  “He wants my breakfast.”

  “He doesn’t eat bread,” the priest said, his eyes wide. “Can’t you see?”

  Dig shrugged. “See what?”

  “This is a Rainbow Bee Eater.”

  Dig looked between the bird and the priest. He felt more confused than ever.

  “They are extremely rare in India.” the priest said. “To see one here is, well, completely irregular. In fact, I think they are from Australia.”

  Dig narrowed his eyes. “How do you know that?”

  “Well, I’m a small-time priest, and big-time birdwatcher. That's why I took the position up here. There are hundreds of species living in these cliffs. But none of these guys. Not ever.”

  The bird took a few steps toward Dig, then stopped.

  “So close!” the priest whispered, and grabbed Dig’s arm. His fingernails dug into his skin.

  Dig studied the animal. It was small, about the size of his palm, with green wings and a lower body of bright blue. Its head was a pale yellow, and a black stripe of feathers ran across its eyes. “I know these birds,” Dig said. “I think they have a nest in the chimney of my home...in Australia.”

  “You see?”

  Dig nodded, but something else nagged at him. He leaned in and studied the bird again. Then it hit him. It was the same species that distracted the driver as he hid on the truck travelling to the docks.

  “And I saw one of these in Goa,” he said, blinking rapidly. “And...in a tunnel in Hampi. It ate a hornet that was about to attack me.”

  “Aah yes.” The priest’s eyes lit up. “As the name suggests, they only eat insects...and bees and wasps in particular.” He glanced at Dig. “But if you have seen it many times before, then that explains it.”

  “That explains what?”

  “That explains where it came from.”

  “I didn’t smuggle it over if that’s what you mean.”

  The man smiled. “There is more to our world than our physical form. We all have connections with the world around us. Some stronger than others. You have a bond with this creature. Your auras are intertwined. I felt it when you first arrived.”

  Dig raised his eyebrows.

  “You don’t feel it?”

  Dig shrugged and looked back down at the animal. “No.” He scratched his arm. “But, even if I did, what does it mean?”

  “That’s for you to figure out. We Hindus believe in spiritual affinity with the animals. We also believe in Samsara, or reincarnation.”

  “Reincarnation?”

  “Yes,” the priest said. “Now please. Just relax for a moment.”

  Dig frowned and tried to sit still.

  The bird turned its head, then slowly stepped forward along the wall until it was inches from Dig’s leg. Dig expected it to take a peck at the bread roll tucked under his arm—but instead, its beak tugged twice at the pocket of his pants before the bird chirped loudly. It then turned and took flight, gliding out over the edge of the cliff and disappearing.

  “Wow,” the priest said, watching it go. “Just amazing.” He nodded slowly. “This really is a special day.”

  Dig pursed his lips.

  “Don’t you agree? Aren’t you happy to be part of that?”

  Dig gave a weak smile. “Yeah, sure.”

  The man looked up at the sky, took a deep breath, and let it out again. “So what brings you to India?”

  Dig paused. “I came here to sort out a...family issue.”

  “Okay. And have you had success?”

  “No. It’s not looking good at the moment.”

  “Well maybe this should be a lesson. We all face challenges at some point in our lives. To arrest it, you need to get out of your head and be more aware of the world around you.” He reached over and tapped his finger on Dig’s temple.

  Dig ducked away and smiled. He looked in the sky for the bird, but it was gone.

  He thought about the animal tugging at his shorts. After a moment, he reached into the pocket and emptied the contents out to the wall. A handful of coins spilled out with a remnant of dried sausage, and a folded, wrinkled piece of paper.

  He lifted the paper and opened it out to press it flat on the top of the wall. It was the Banyan invoice.

  He studied the invoice closely. He understood most parts of it—such as the description of the hops and the bank details, but there were a couple of parts that confused him.

  He held the invoice out to the priest. “Do you know what this means?” he said. “Customs Shabdkosh?”

  “Shabdkosh means tax in Hindi. So that would be a customs tax.”

  Dig nodded slowly. He then looked down at the final payment item on the invoice—the mystifying Bay-ta Brewer’s Yeast that he had never seen delivered in Australia.

  “And this word? Bay-ta?”

  The man turned down his lips. “Bay-ta means son.”

  “Sun? As in up in the sky?”

  “No,” the man said. “As in father and son.”

  Dig felt a quickening in his chest. “So this is a son payment?”

  The man leaned forward and looked at the paper. “It looks like it.”

  Dig’s eyes widened and he stared out over the lake. “This is...crazy.”

  He sat there for a few minutes, staring at the horizon, before he turned back to the priest. “I’ve got it.”

  But the priest was gone, and the courtyard was empty.

  Dig’s brow furrowed. “Did he just...disappear?”

  “No,” shouted a voice, and the priest’s head leant around the courtyard wall. “I’m just taking a piss.”

  Dig pushed himself to his feet. “I think I need to go now.”

  “Okay. Then good luck with your family issues. But remember, get out of your head, and be aware of your surroundings. And watch out for your beautiful friend.”

  Dig nodded, then turned to jog back down the hill.

  The sun was blazing in the middle of the sky when he returned to the hotel. Jules sat on the balcony, her legs resting on the railing. She wore a shirt with green flowers imprinted on it. Her eyes were sullen.

  “Hey there.”

  Jules turned, then looked back at the view. “Hey.”

&n
bsp; “I brought you a coffee and some bananas.”

  “Thanks.” She took them from him. “Where did you go?”

  “I just needed to walk. I had lots to think about. You okay?”

  She shrugged.

  Dig ran a hand through his hair. “Well maybe I can cheer you up,” he said with butterflies dancing in his stomach. “As I might have figured some things out.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Dig handed her the Banyan invoice.

  “What’s this?”

  “An invoice from the Banyan Brewery. To our company back in Australia.” He pointed to it. “Look at this payment—for Bay-ta Brewer’s Yeast.”

  Jules’ face was blank.

  “We’ve never been delivered any yeast from Banyan. They only sent us hops. Which got me thinking about this Bay-ta bit.”

  “Bay-ta? Doesn’t that mean—”

  “Son,” Dig said, nodding quickly. “I’m thinking it was some type of veiled payment for a son, like, you know, maintenance or something...for Maxine’s son.”

  “She has a son?”

  “I met him in Hampi. His name was Raj. And she has a husband too...Girish is his name. But I don’t think Girish is Raj’s father.” He swallowed. “I think it might have been my dad.”

  “But that would make that Raj boy your—”

  “Half-brother.”

  Jules’ eyes narrowed. “You sure you aren’t overreacting here?”

  “I don’t think so. Remember back at the bar? Maxine said something about me coming over here to break up her family. Now I understand why she said it. She thought I knew.”

  “Well that would explain why Maxine was exporting the hops to your dad. It did seem strange.”

  Dig blinked. “I didn’t think of that.”

  “And it would also explain why she pulled the deal as soon as your dad died.”

  “You’re right!” Dig paced around the room, nodding. “This is...great! If Dad was receiving the hops as a way to disguise some type of secret maintenance payment, then maybe we have a chance!”

  Jules’ eyebrows knitted together.

  “It’s time to go to Hampi. And I’m going to tell Maxine if she doesn’t leave all of us alone then I’m going to let out her precious secret.”

  “Are you sure this is right?”

  Dig took a deep breath. “No. But at the same time, it’s the best we’ve got.”

  “And if you’re wrong? Or she doesn’t care?”

  “Then we’re toast.” Dig picked up his pack. “But I’m going for it. You ready?”

  She bit her lip, and nodded.

  They left the building and walked down the main shopping street, looking for a taxi. As they passed the tailor, the man with the turban waved from the doorway, smiling. “Have a good trip Jules!” Jules gave him a quick wave and dropped her head.

  “You know him?”

  “I got him to make me this shirt this morning. I ripped my other one when we ran from the train.”

  Dig smiled. “You should have told me you were going. I’m low on clean undies. He could have whipped me up a few.”

  “Green flowery ones as well?”

  “Of course.”

  They found a taxi at the end of the street, and settled into the back seat. The car threaded through the alleys at the base of the cliffs before pulling out onto the open road. Dig glanced at the top of the cliff as he passed.

  “Do you know much about Hindus?” he said. “You know, religion wise?”

  “A bit. Why?”

  “I met a Hindu priest up on the cliff this morning who was screwing with my mind. Talking about stuff like spiritual connections and reincarnation.”

  Jules’ eyes narrowed. “I don’t know about reincarnation. But I believe a person’s spirit still hangs around after they die.”

  “In what way?”

  She picked at her skirt. “A close friend of mine died last year. And it wasn’t until she was gone that I realised the important place she had in my life, and the spirit that left with her. I realised I took our relationship a bit for granted, you know?” She gave a small shrug, then met Dig’s gaze. Bags hung below her eyes. “But then I realised she wasn’t totally gone. She still popped up in my mind now and then...at the weirdest times. I could feel her. It was like her spirit came to visit—the same as when she was alive.” She sighed. “So these days, when I think of her, it makes me more happy than sad. Because I know she hasn’t totally gone, and I know that she’s still looking out for me.”

  Dig stared out the window. A small tingling rush crept up the back of his neck, and he fought back tears that built in the corners of his eyes.

  “You father only just died right?” Jules said. “Give it some time, and you might start to feel him turn up in everyday life. You just have to keep your eyes open.”

  Dig shrugged and gave her a weak smile.

  16

  AS THE TAXI APPROACHED HAMPI the nerves ramped up in Dig’s stomach and he bit his fingernails ragged. Jules hugged her knees to her chest.

  “Excuse me driver,” she said in a wavering voice. “Can you stop for a toilet break soon?”

  The driver nodded, and a short time later they turned off the road into an ancient petrol station with two rusted pumps standing in a weed-covered forecourt. The driver killed the engine and began to fill up.

  Jules retrieved her bag and stepped out to the tarmac. “Won’t be long.”

  Dig nodded, drumming his fingers on the seat as he watched her walk toward the rear of the building.

  Beside him, the pump sloshed out petrol in a steady stream, and the numbers ticked over at pace. Eventually, the machine clicked off and the driver returned the nozzle to its cradle, walked inside to pay, and returned to the car.

  As the engine started, Dig hung his head outside the window, looking left and right, but Jules was nowhere to be seen. He muttered under his breath, then leaned forward. “I’ll be back in a minute.” The driver wobbled his head.

  Dig walked across the station forecourt and around the back of the building. Behind it, a rectangle of gravel flanked the rear brick wall.

  Jules stood at the far end of the clearing, holding a cigarette and staring into the distance. The smoke wafted toward Dig, filling his nostrils with the same sweet, musky odour from back at the hotel. He scowled as he approached. “The taxi’s waiting.”

  Jules turned quickly, startled. She dropped the cigarette to the ground and stamped it out. “Coming now.” She exhaled two long streams of smoke from her nostrils, then looked to the ground and turned in a circle. “Where’s my pack?”

  “On your back.”

  “Oh!” She grinned. “Silly me.” She stumbled toward the car.

  Dig strode ahead of her and cut off her path.

  She frowned. “That was the last of it okay! It’s all gone. So don’t freak out.”

  “You sure? The roadblock’s probably just around the corner.”

  “Yes! You’re worse than my bloody brother.” She moved to step around him, but Dig blocked her path again. She took a deep breath, then held her pack out. “Do you want me to empty it out for you? I’ll do it!”

  Dig met her gaze for a few seconds, then stepped aside.

  “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go do this.” She trudged back to the taxi.

  They drove through the early afternoon as they approached the outskirts of Hampi. Jules rested her head on the window frame, eyes closed. Dig stared out the front windscreen and fidgeted with the zip on his pack. The rock formations of the Hampi region appeared on the horizon.

  As the vehicle topped a rise, Dig recognised a cluster of road barriers blocking the road. A thin-faced policeman stood behind them, waving a fluorescent stick to the shoulder.

  Dig elbowed Jules, and her eyes popped open. “Police check.” She nodded and rubbed at her eyes.

  The taxi slowed, rumbled into the road shoulder, and stopped. The policeman lowered his head through the window frame and studied them, th
en gestured for them to get out.

  Dig stepped down to the gravel with his bag. Jules stood beside him with tight shoulders and her arms folded.

  The thin policeman walked to a hut beside the road barriers and spoke a few words, and a heavyset policeman with a thick, grey moustache and peaked cap appeared in the doorway. Dig recognised him as the police chief from his visit through the checkpoint a few days before.

  The chief glanced at the pair, then hitched up his pants and trudged toward them.

  He stopped in front of Dig and looked him over, then spoke to the taxi driver. The taxi driver popped the boot of the car, and the thin policeman produced a heavy torch and shone it through the space, lifting up the carpet and searching through the spare wheel.

  The chief turned to Dig and picked at his teeth with a toothpick. “I’ve seen you before.”

  Dig nodded. “I was here a few days ago.”

  “Why have you come back?”

  Dig glanced at Jules. “I wanted to show Hampi to my friend. It’s a beautiful place.”

  The man pointed to a table beside them. “Open your bag.”

  Dig dumped his bag down and pulled it open. The policeman rummaged through it, pulling items out and placing them on the surface. He studied the items for a moment. “Okay,” he said before turning his attention to Jules. “Your bag please.”

  Jules lifted her bag and placed it on the tabletop with a shaking hand.

  The policeman began to sift through it. “First time in Hampi?” he said.

  “Yes,” Jules said quietly.

  The policeman extracted the contents, lining them up onto the table. Jules stood with her hands clasped together at her waist. Her face was ashen.

  Once the bag was empty, the policemen picked it up and shook it, then chewed on his toothpick and watched her. “Why are you so nervous?”

  Jules blinked. “I…I don’t know.” Her gaze dropped.

  The policeman glanced from Dig to Jules with narrow eyes, then gave a small nod and turned to shuffle back toward the roadside hut.