by Amanda Lees
The trouble is, though, the teachers seem like they’ve given up, like they don’t really want to teach anyway. And the kids act like they don’t want to learn all except for one or two. Weird thing is, now I’m listening it’s actually kind of interesting sometimes. Although most of my classmates don’t seem too happy that I’m making the effort. At least if I go to school they won’t lock me up again. That’s what Ma says, anyway. She says it will ‘keep them off our backs.’ I can’t imagine why they would want to be on our backs but if Ma says so it must be true. I like Ma very much but she can’t replace Mamma.
I know she wants me to think of her like that, like she’s my mother in the World Beyond. I suppose she is, in a way, but really I only have one Mamma. I guess that’s what the Ayah wanted too, that I’d think of her as a new Mamma. What no one seems to understand is that Mamma is still around. OK, so she’s not actually here and I don’t have any of my magic tools but I still think I can try and summon her. I mean, she’s still technically a goddess, right? That means I can summon her anywhere.
CHAPTER 7
The RHM stared up at the starlit sky. Only a thin slice of the moon was visible. It had been fat and full the night Kumari disappeared. Now it barely registered. As reed slim as Kumari herself and just about as powerless. For a second, the RHM felt a flash of guilt. She was nothing more than a child.
He dropped his gaze to the courtyard below, desperately trying to think. Going over it one more time, every detail of that night. Something caught his eye, a faint movement by the fountain. He shrank back behind the shutters, even though his room was in darkness. The RHM preferred it that way, had done ever since things changed at the palace. It was safer to remain unseen, to operate from the shadows. He narrowed his eyes, focusing on the fountain. There it was again, a shape shifting, separating from the great urn that formed the fountain’s base.
The shape moved slowly, cautiously, stopping every few feet. The RHM studied it carefully. There was something familiar about its bulk. And then another, smaller shape slinking towards it, a paw reaching out, then swiping. A leg struck out and kicked, sending the palace cat flying through the air. In that moment of temper, the bulk had betrayed itself. The Ayah hated the palace cat and vice versa. Now the RHM’s antennae were up.
He had observed the Ayah on more than one occasion sneaking off on some mission. He had no idea what she was up to, but he was determined to find out. Slipping on his heavy cloak, the RHM prepared to follow her. She had been heading in the direction of the temple. He knew a shortcut. At the end of the corridor a great tapestry covered one wall, its golden threads glistening in the light of the butter lamps. The RHM looked over his shoulder then slid behind the tapestry, his fingers reaching for a tiny catch. As he flicked it, a door swung open and he hurriedly descended a flight of steep stone steps. Down and down he ran, following the narrow spiral of the hidden staircase. At last, he reached the ground floor far below and an antechamber. He paused, straining his ears.
Not so much as a murmur. The palace was sleeping. In front of him, another door carved into the wall. Gently, he pressed its catch. As it swung open, he slid out from behind an identical tapestry to the first. He was in the throne room, right next to the temple. The palace holy of holies, guarded day and night by the monks. And yet, there was a way in, if you knew where to look. He could not believe the Ayah had the knowledge, but, then again, anything was possible.
Who would have thought that the queen could have succumbed like that? Let alone that Kumari would have vanished without a trace? While he was pondering these mysteries, the RHM heard a noise, soft but definite. The swish, swish, swish of slippered feet. Crouching low behind the king’s throne, he peered out from between the elaborate carvings that crowned it. He saw the Ayah enter the throne room, stop and look round. Satisfied that she was apparently unobserved, the woman began to cross the vast, empty space, heading not for the temple but for the public entrance on the other side.
Puzzled now, the RHM watched as she fiddled with the lock. The door could only be opened from the inside, with a sequence known to a very few. There were just two doors in the kingdom that were ever locked, the temple door being the other. The RHM had urged the king to consider more security measures, but his majesty remained resolute. The locks on these two doors were symbolic, representing the inner sanctum. All other doors would remain open to his people, whom he considered his kin.
Alarmed, the RHM stifled a gasp as the door gave way under the Ayah’s fingers. There would be time later to work out how she had discovered the combination. Right now, he must follow and find out what he could. Keeping a decent distance between them, the RHM padded along, eyes fixed firmly on the Ayah’s back. It would be disastrous if she caught sight of him. The woman was suspicious enough of him as it was.
To his surprise, she turned away from the streets of the town and headed instead for the path that wound through the lower slopes towards the west. The path was not arduous but the Ayah walked swiftly. Truly, the RHM thought, the woman was remarkably fit. She did not appear so, being squat and rather heavy but her well-padded legs belied muscles that could apparently march for miles.
About an hour later, the Ayah paused. The path abruptly ended at an impassable wall of rock. The Ayah pressed herself up against the stone, scrabbling around with her hands. Then, all of a sudden, she was gone. It was as if she had never been there. Scuttling forward as fast as he dared, the RHM stared at the seemingly impenetrable rock face. Then his eyes fell upon it: the tiniest fissure, a crack barely wider than his hand. The gap was only a few feet deep. There was nowhere she could have hidden. And yet the Ayah had disappeared into the ether.
He shoved his hand into the crack, searching for something that might reveal a concealed tunnel. He tried to squeeze through the gap itself, marvelling at how the Ayah had done it. Even at its widest point, it was perhaps four hand spans, the Ayah considerably wider. Drawing a blank, the RHM paused to think. Logically, there had to be a way in. Or maybe logic had nothing to do with it.
As he pondered the possibilities, realisation struck the RHM. He was at the western edge of the kingdom. Beyond this rock, the World Beyond and the tribal lands of the fearsome local warlords. What could the Ayah be doing in the World Beyond? Was it something to do with the warlords? If so, that complicated matters. They would have to be eliminated too. Maybe there was some way he could climb up, try to see if he could spot her. The RHM looked up, scanning the ridges that rose above him. There it was: a natural platform, just wide enough to stand on.
Hampered by his heavy cloak, the RHM scrabbled for a toehold. Although he was more agile than he appeared, it was a hard climb. Finally, his fingers found the flat expanse of rock. The RHM heaved himself up on it. Above the platform, the granite pillars dipped low enough for him to see into the World Beyond. The RHM searched the horizon. Stretching before him, a thick forest of mountain spruce. In the distance, more peaks, one shaped oddly, like an eagle’s beak. As his eyes adjusted, he noticed something sticking up, slightly higher than all the rest, too regular to be a tree.
By its shape it looked to be a mast. Attached to it, a saucer-shaped object. The object was angled towards the sky, as if trying to catch something. The RHM was no slouch when it came to information. He pored over the scientific papers smuggled in, careful to keep their contents to himself. A little knowledge was a dangerous thing, or so the king believed. His majesty felt that many of the advances made in the World Beyond would threaten the Happiness of his subjects. The RHM disagreed. Many times he had appealed to the king to modernise, so far without success.
Never mind, he had his methods. Although one or two of his contacts were proving troublesome. Only recently he’d needed to deal with one who had grown greedy, foolish enough to believe he would succumb to blackmail. It had been the night Kumari disappeared, in fact. An evil night all round. At least the man would no longer be able to spill his secrets and threaten his position. No point in looking back. The only
way was forward. Eventually his time would come, the day he could unveil the World Beyond’s advances to the kingdom. And this was clearly one of them, if he was not mistaken. The RHM’s curiosity prickled as he stared at the object on the mast.
It appeared to be a satellite dish.
A sudden noise broke his concentration, a sound that the RHM dimly remembered from his childhood. A clatter, distant at first. The roar of an engine. Beneath the stars, a new pinpoint of light, moving ever upwards. This was no shooting star. This thing moved with purpose. Sweat broke out on the RHM’s brow despite the chill of the night. He was sure, as he stared at it, that the light was no coincidence. He would guess it was the light of a small aircraft and on it, he would lay his life, sat the Ayah.
What on earth was the woman doing on a plane? And how had she got there? She must have had outside help. One thing he would give her, she was brave. For a citizen of the kingdom to get on an aircraft was astonishing. Technology had not penetrated its borders. It simply was not permitted. For the Ayah to even know aeroplanes existed provided pause for thought. It meant she had access to information. And that was dangerous.
The light soared higher and higher, topping the mountains. And then it was gone, banking round as it bore west. Two things were clear to the RHM: the Ayah was somehow in contact with the World Beyond. Worse, she was even now airborne, heading deep into its heart. The RHM knew his geography. West meant Europe or America. There must be something out there of great importance to pull the Ayah towards it.
Something.
Or someone.
Suddenly, the RHM was certain. The Ayah knew where she was. The Ayah was going for Kumari.
CHAPTER 8
The nightmare was back, only this time she was trapped in a locker, shut up in that tiny space knowing that Mamma was somewhere outside.
‘Mamma!’ she shouted as she heard her footsteps begin to recede.
‘Mamma, wait for me!’ But there was no answering cry.
And then there was light flooding her face. Someone must have opened the locker door.
‘Chico?’ Kumari murmured.
‘Kumari, honey, it’s Ma. It’s OK, sweetheart, it was just a dream. You were shouting out in your sleep. Hush, now, it’s all right. You just lay back down.’
‘Ma?’ Kumari’s eyes focused. She licked her lips. They were dry. She must have been shouting really loud for her throat to feel so sore.
Beside her, Badmash grumbled in his sleep. It started to come back to her. She was not in the palace at all. She was here, in Ma’s apartment.
‘I thought I heard Mamma,’ whispered Kumari. ‘They locked me in and I couldn’t follow her.’
‘You were having a nightmare, Kumari,’ said Ma. ‘Wasn’t nothing but a dream.’
‘No!’ cried Kumari. ‘It’s more than that. It’s a message. Mamma wants me to help her but as hard as I try I can’t.’
At this she began to sob. She could feel Ma’s hands begin to stroke her hair.
‘There, there, now, Kumari. Your Mamma, she’s gone.’
‘No, she hasn’t!’ shouted Kumari. ‘She’s just stuck, there, in that awful place. She can’t go up the Holy Mountain and she can’t come back and be a living goddess.’
‘Kumari, sweetie, you’ve got to stop with this goddess stuff.’
‘You don’t believe me. OK, I’ll prove it.’
At that, Kumari sat up and began to chant with all her might.
At first, nothing happened.
‘Kumari, you don’t have to do this.’
Putting her hands over her ears, Kumari continued her chanting.
Suddenly, the window shot open and a blast of wind whirled in, sending the curtains flapping crazily, plastering Ma’s hair across her face. Badmash opened one eye, then slid lower beneath the covers. He’d seen it all before. The one Power Kumari had almost got right.
Ma’s mouth fell open as the wind intensified, whizzing around her like a miniature twister, whipping her hair up into a beehive, finally sending her spinning above the bed.
‘Stop! Stop!’ yelled Ma.
At that very moment, the door banged open.
‘What is happening here?’ said LeeLee, rubbing sleepy eyes.
Startled, Kumari abruptly stopped chanting, sending Ma tumbling down to the floor.
‘Just proving I’m a goddess,’ said Kumari.
‘Whatever. But keep it down. Me and CeeCee, we’re trying to sleep here. Can’t you two have some consideration?’
As LeeLee stomped off, Ma picked herself up and sat on the bed.
She looked at the window warily. There was not as much as a whisper of a breeze from outside. Seemingly unconvinced, Ma stuck her hand out and waggled it then drew it back in and sighed. The curtains hung still, as did the bedclothes. Only Ma’s hairdo hinted at what had occurred.
At the sight of it, Kumari began to giggle.
‘You look like Marge Simpson,’ she snorted.
Ma glared at her for a second, then her shoulders began to shake. Half-crying, half-laughing she began to hiccough.
‘What in the world happened there, child?’
‘I used Power No 8. The Power to Have Command Over the Elements. I haven’t got it quite right yet.’
‘It was good enough for me, girl, I can tell you.’
‘So you believe me when I say I’m a goddess?’
‘You’re certainly something, Kumari. You want to call yourself a goddess, that’s fine by me.’
Kumari grabbed the hand nearest to her. ‘It’s important, Ma. I need you to believe me. If you believe me then you believe in my Mamma. You believe that she still exists.’
Ma’s eyes shone with understanding. ‘I believe in you, Kumari,’ she whispered. ‘Now get some sleep. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.’
‘Goodnight, Ma. And Ma?’
‘Yeeees?’
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’
Ma believed in her. For the moment, it was enough.
CHAPTER 9
Kumari held the bottle high. Potassium Nitrate, the label read. Looked harmless enough. Now, what was the other stuff Ms Martin had used? She scanned the neat rows of bottles, trying to remember, pulling one down then another, puzzling over the contents. A warning squeak from Badmash made her look up. There was a shadow hovering outside the chem lab door, visible through the frosted glass. Kumari froze, clutching her bottles. There would be big trouble if she was caught.
For one thing, it was recess, when the whole school was forced outside. For another, Badmash was with her when he’d been specifically banned from the building. And for a third, she was not supposed to be here, on her own without her teacher. OK, so she felt bad about that. Ms Martin was pretty cool. But it was important she did this. Kumari had a plan. It had come to her in the night, as all her best ideas did, popping into her head just as she was drifting off, snapping her eyelids apart.
‘The chem lab. That’s it!’ she’d exclaimed as Badmash grumbled sleepily. Things were much tighter at Ma’s place than in the palace. Sharing one pillow was hard.
The chem lab. Her favourite classroom, lined with marvellous potions. Ms Martin insisted on calling them by their chemical names but Kumari knew what they really were. These were special ingredients, not for chemistry but alchemy. How else to explain the sparks that flew from the flask Ms Martin held over a flame or the solution that switched colours before their very eyes? While the others yawned or tried to set fire to one another’s hair, Kumari looked on, entranced. At last, something in the World Beyond she could understand – good old ritual magic.
The shadow had moved off. Time to set to work. She only had a few more minutes before the bell rang once more. She’d take a chance on the ingredients. After all, she was used to trying and failing. Look what had happened last time. The Great Summoning Ceremony had not exactly ended happily. Somehow, she’d wound up here instead of manifesting Mamma.
Gently, Kumari unwrapped the miniature port
rait she had brought in her schoolbag. Placing it on the lab bench, she whispered, ‘Hello, Mamma.’
The picture glowed under the harsh strip light, the flesh tones so real it almost seemed to breathe. Kumari traced her Mamma’s cheek with one finger. It felt warm to the touch.
‘Talk to me,’ she pleaded. ‘Tell me who did it.’ But the picture stayed silent. It was just a painting, after all.
What it needed was a spark of life, a jolt to bring her Mamma back. And Kumari knew just the thing. Or at least, she thought she did. Lighting a Bunsen burner, she then picked up a flask. First the potassium nitrate. How much had Ms Martin used? She tipped in a little bit then added a whole lot more. Her hand hovered over the other bottles she had picked at random. Here was one that looked promising. What was the worst that could happen? A bang, a few puffs of smoke.
‘Stop!’
Startled, Kumari dropped the lot into the flask.
‘M-ms Martin,’ she stammered.
‘Move that away from the flame!’ said Ms Martin.
Too late. The thing exploded. Louder than Kumari had expected. The smoke, that was the main thing. It seemed to fill the whole room. Coughing and spluttering, Kumari tried to wave it away from her face. Miraculously, it cleared as fast as it had come. She stared around the room, expectant.
‘Kumari? What are you doing?’
‘Looking for my Mamma.’
‘Looking for . . . ? I don’t understand.’
‘No,’ Kumari whispered. ‘Nor do I.’
Nothing. Nada, as Ma would say. Except another failure to chalk up. Another lost chance to talk to Mamma.
‘It’s impossible,’ said Kumari. ‘It’s never going to happen.’
Dropping her head to the bench, she sobbed in devastation. After a few seconds, she felt a soft hand patting her shoulder.
‘Go ahead,’ said Ms Martin. ‘Let it out, Kumari. Cry.’
‘I can’t do it,’ wailed Kumari. ‘I can’t summon up my Mamma. She’s stuck in the foothills of the Holy Mountain. I’m stuck here in the World Beyond. Now I’ll never find out.’