‘For a while,’ Jehan said. ‘But we want to talk to Kelsey, too.’
‘And me. Kelsey saved me from the river,’ Raza said.
Fozia liked Shakila’s house – it had many rooms, maybe four or five, and the courtyard was so big there were plants and seats for all the aunties and Shakila’s grandma to sit on while they sewed or crocheted. They had a tap that poured water into a barrel, and they even had a double gas-burner stove, with a box oven to put on top for when Shakila’s mother cooked cakes. And, in the yard, there were goats, chickens and a peacock.
‘How is the peahen?’ Fozia asked.
Shakila grinned. ‘Come and see.’ She took Fozia and the boys to a bush in the coop. ‘She’s made a nest here.’
The peahen shifted her position, and Fozia caught a glimpse of a light brown egg. ‘She’s done it! She laid an egg!’
Amir pushed in front of Fozia. ‘Let me see, let me see.’
‘Not just one egg,’ Shakila added. ‘There are two so far. When she’s laid enough, she’ll sit on them until they hatch.’
‘For how long?’ Fozia said.
‘Twenty-eight days. But she has to finish laying them first – that could take a few weeks.’
Just then, Izaak beckoned to Shakila. ‘Bring your friends inside – the computer is ready.’
Fozia put her hand on Lali’s collar so she’d know to walk in silently and sit out of sight under the charpai. She was sure Izaak pretended he couldn’t see her. The children sat on the charpai like a line of birds as Izaak called Kelsey’s Skype number.
Shakila grabbed Fozia’s hand at the bubbly ringtone. ‘I miss her,’ she whispered. ‘We used to have so much fun together.’
Fozia tipped her head. At first, she hadn’t been kind to Kelsey. She didn’t think an Australian girl younger than her would understand their life. But in the end, she realised that it didn’t matter where people came from or how young they were: they could still be your friend. She smiled, remembering Kelsey showing her the gudiya she’d received for her birthday. Kelsey said the doll, Amy Jo, could hear and feel. Fozia had wondered about that.
Finally, they heard the popping sound of the call being answered, and there was Kelsey on the screen. She was wearing a pretty green shalwar qameez, just as if she were visiting. Kelsey even had a scarf around her neck like Fozia and Shakila.
‘That’s a lovely dupatta,’ Shakila said, pointing to it.
Jehan and Amir watched with their mouths open. It was the first time the boys or Fozia had seen Skype working.
‘Hello from us,’ Kelsey said. She held Amy Jo so she was facing the camera and lifted the doll closer for them to see. ‘This is so exciting. How are you?’
Fozia couldn’t say a word, so Shakila answered. ‘We’re all well. We’ve just been in school. Except Raza and Amir.’ At their names, the boys grinned at Kelsey.
‘Is Miss Parveen still there?’ Kelsey said.
‘Ji, and she’s getting married soon,’ Shakila said. ‘It’s finally been arranged.’
Kelsey’s eyes widened. ‘Who to?’
Fozia glanced at Shakila. This was the first she’d heard of the marriage, too.
‘Guess?’ Shakila said. ‘It’s a man you know. Miss Parveen will be related to me.’
Kelsey squealed. ‘Chacha Izaak?’
‘Ji.’ Shakila grinned at everyone. ‘This is our happy news. We wish you could be here for the wedding, Kelsey. We’d all have so much fun.’
‘Sure would.’ Kelsey put on her thinking look. Then she smiled at Fozia. ‘And how are you, Fozia?’
Fozia was relieved she didn’t ask about her parents. She knew what the others were thinking – that her family had drowned in the flood. ‘Teik hai. I’m fine,’ she said.
Jehan said, ‘We went to Fozia’s village but we couldn’t find her parents.’
‘Oh.’ Kelsey frowned. ‘That’s sad.’
Fozia turned her bangle around. She’d cry if she looked at Kelsey now.
‘The brick kiln is working again,’ Jehan went on.
‘What’s a brick kiln?’ Kelsey asked.
‘It’s a huge hot oven that mudbricks are put in to be fired and made hard,’ Jehan answered.
‘Oh, like clay pots,’ Kelsey said.
‘My parents would have come home if they could,’ Fozia said in a rush. ‘They need to work at the brick kiln to pay—’
She stopped. Kelsey wouldn’t understand about her parents owing money to the brick-kiln owner and working extra hours to pay him back. Kelsey’s parents seemed to have more money than anyone she knew.
Shakila squeezed her hand. Fozia knew her friend understood how difficult it was to work long hours at a brick kiln, but Shakila didn’t know why her parents had to work there. It was a secret that Fozia’s family had promised each other they would keep. Fozia shut her eyes tightly so she wouldn’t cry.
‘What are you doing, Kelsey?’ Shakila asked, changing the subject.
‘School, like you. I’m swimming still, even though it’s cool in the mornings. How’s Lali?’
Hearing her name, Lali stood and barked, just as if she were saying hello.
‘Oh, Lali,’ Kelsey said, ‘were you hiding?’
Fozia said, ‘Shhh’ and gave Lali a hug to keep her calm. She watched the doorway but no one came to take Lali outside.
Finally, Amir spoke. ‘Fozia is telling us a story.’
Kelsey’s eyes lit up. ‘Really? I love stories. What’s it about?’
‘It’s—’ Jehan and Amir tried to speak at once.
‘It’s a story about Prince Zal,’ Jehan said. ‘He’s on a quest to find his sister—’
‘She’s lost in the jungle,’ Amir cut in.
Kelsey’s forehead wrinkled. ‘What made you think of the name Zal, Fozia?’
Fozia sat very still and looked at the floor, scared of what she should say next. ‘I … used to know someone called Zal. Just a boy—’ She shut her eyes.
‘Can you tell some of the story now?’ Kelsey said.
‘Please, Fozia?’ Jehan and Amir pleaded.
Fozia’s mouth dried up. She wasn’t sure she could say a word.
Then Shakila said, ‘I’d like to hear it, too, Fozia. There’s only us – no need to be shy.’
‘Please?’ Kelsey said it so kindly Fozia couldn’t refuse.
6
Prince Zal
Fozia thought for a moment. She remembered sitting on her parents’ carpet as a little girl, pretending it could fly.
She glanced up at Kelsey. ‘Accha …’
Amir relaxed against Shakila.
‘Prince Zal has met a wise woman who has given him an ancient flying carpet to help him find his sister. This is what happens next …’
Outside the cottage, Prince Zal sat on the carpet and asked it to rise, just like the woman had shown him. But it didn’t move. Zal thought of Najya and repeated the request softly. Slowly, as if it were waking after a long sleep, the carpet rolled a corner towards him, and then another, touching his hand. It reminded Zal of a dog making friends.
Finally, the carpet rose to the height of Prince Zal’s knee, then higher still. Then it shot off so quickly Zal nearly fell backwards. The carpet flew between the trees, then it climbed above them and Zal could see the palace and its grounds, and the fields beyond. Further away, the snowy mountains rolled back as far as the horizon.
All of a sudden, the carpet dived. Zal held his breath and hung on to the sides until it levelled out again before landing soundlessly in a clearing. He was surrounded by huge trees that blocked most of the sky. He shivered. What might be watching him from the jungle?
Zal stepped off the carpet and almost fell. Even his good leg felt like wobbly rubber. He checked all around but couldn’t see anyone. He rolled up the carpet and slung it across his b
ack. Was he supposed to search here for his sister? He called ‘Na-ji-ya’, but the jungle was silent.
He turned, wondering which way to go. Then he heard a cry. It sounded like a bird – or was it a girl?
Zal hurried into the jungle, looking in the branches above him for clues. His foot tripped on a vine, but he didn’t land on the ground. Instead, his arms flailed in empty space as he fell. ‘Aaah!’
Bump! He landed on a bed of leaves and branches. The carpet flopped on top of him. He stood and picked it up and slung it over his shoulders again.
‘Wah, this must be a hunting pit.’ It looked ancient – the layers of leaves were so deep they reached his waist, and he could see white bones poking out the earthen walls. Surely, he hadn’t landed in an animal’s pantry?
Prince Zal tried climbing out of the pit but, strangely, the sides were clear of vines, and he couldn’t get a foothold. Then he remembered the carpet! But just as he was about to roll it out again, he heard a slow slither behind him. The leaves on the floor of the pit whispered and shook like a wave in a lake.
Prince Zal froze. The leaves moved on the other side of the pit. If this was a serpent it must be a giant! It could have eaten Najya already.
Zal shut his eyes. Do not fear what you cannot see, the woman had said. He blew out a slow breath to calm himself. When he opened his eyes, the leaves were still. It was as if nothing had been there at all.
Did he imagine it? Zal didn’t wait to find out; feverishly, he rolled the carpet out and sat on it. There was a growl close by, in the jungle above. It was difficult to keep his voice quiet and kind as he asked the carpet to rise. Ascend it did, to the top of the pit. But not high enough.
A leopard was pounding towards him. Mesmerised, Zal watched the muscles in her shoulders strain as she drew closer. ‘Higher,’ he whispered to the carpet, wishing he could shout. The carpet didn’t move at first – but then, like a wisp of smoke, it slowly rose.
It floated just above the head of the leopard as she halted beneath Prince Zal. She was so close he could look into her amber eyes, see her circular markings and yellow fangs through the snarl. He didn’t realise a leopard could grow so huge. She could have eaten Najya for breakfast and still had room for him at lunch.
‘Rise!’ Prince Zal shouted at the carpet, unable to keep his voice quiet any longer. But the carpet only fluttered in mid-air. The leopard crouched, her haunches quivering.
‘Higher,’ Zal cried as the leopard pounced. Her claw caught the corner of the carpet. Zal and the carpet spun around. Dizzy, he whispered, ‘Rise higher, please.’ The carpet righted itself and rose slightly, but it was still too close to the leopard.
The leopard snarled. ‘You have come, Prince Zal.’
Zal’s eyes opened wide. He didn’t know what to ask first – how the leopard could speak, or how she knew his name. ‘I … How do you know who I am?’
‘Everyone knows you. Why are you here?’ The leopard crouched, ready to jump again.
‘It’s my sister,’ Prince Zal said hurriedly, hoping he wasn’t being foolish. ‘She’s missing.’
Zal suddenly had a horrible thought. What if the leopard had eaten her already?
As if the leopard knew his mind, she said, ‘This is a pit to trap me. Have you come to hunt me like everyone else?’ She took a step closer.
‘Nai, I just want to find Najya.’ Zal pictured his sister, lost and crying for him. He was wasting valuable time.
The leopard’s snarl changed to a grin. It didn’t make her look less scary.
‘Then you must look for her, and when you discover where she is, come to me and I will help you rescue her. If the pariyan have her, I can easily free her. They are frightened of me.’ Zal gazed into the leopard’s eyes and could well believe it. She looked impatient to tear him apart.
‘W … where do they live?’
‘I wish I knew. But there is a bird who knows the way into their kingdom.’
‘What kind of bird?’
‘He is colourful and well-informed. Do not worry, you will know when you see him. If you have any trouble, return to me.’
Zal blew out a breath. He didn’t want to see this leopard again. But at the same time he felt a flutter of hope. ‘So, you haven’t eaten her?’
The leopard sat on her haunches, her eyes huge with mock sorrow. ‘Is that what you think of me? That I could eat a human child? How could you believe the things they say about me?’
Prince Zal frowned. Surely he wasn’t imagining that menacing look in her eyes? But would she tell him to find the pariyan if she had already eaten Najya?
The leopard stood. She looked ready to be friends, but she was also close enough to jump on the carpet. Prince Zal wasn’t fooled. ‘Please fly, piari carpet,’ he whispered.
Up it zoomed, high over the trees and down again, flying sideways between trunks, and lower to skim under branches. Prince Zal hung on so tightly his knuckles hurt, until the carpet skidded to a stop in front of a small waterfall. The splashing water sounded like music with hundreds of tiny voices singing. Zal limped off the carpet and drank from the clear pool.
Over the sound of the water came a raucous voice. ‘What are you doing here?’
The voice said ‘you’ as though it knew Prince Zal. He swung around, but no one stood behind him.
‘Up here, you blind fool.’
Prince Zal didn’t like being called a fool. ‘Show yourself,’ he demanded.
The leaves above him shook, and a long red feather fluttered down before a head appeared.
Zal sucked in a breath. ‘You’re the bird the leopard spoke of.’
‘Ji. Well, there are others, but I am the talking bird, ji.’
‘And you know everything?’
‘Ji, ji. That would be correct. Everything.’ The bird glided to a lower branch where Prince Zal could see his bright plumage. He was as huge as an eagle and looked like a palette of paint had been splashed over him. There wasn’t a pattern to his markings – one wing was red, and one was purple with orange blotches. His head was a mixture of every colour Zal had ever seen. It made Prince Zal’s stomach churn just to look at him.
‘I was told you know where the pariyan live,’ Zal said.
‘Ji, that is correct.’
‘Could you take me there?’
‘Hmm. I could. But will I?’ The bird lifted a wing and pecked underneath.
‘Will you, please?’
‘Ah, Prince Zal says “please”.’
Zal was no longer surprised that creatures knew him and could talk. The bird fluffed up its feathers. ‘I once found a bride for an emperor – I’m sure I could find a sister for a badshah.’
Zal frowned. ‘I’m not a king. I’m just a prince.’
One steely eye regarded him. ‘Hmm, so you are. Ji, so you are.’ The bird flew to the carpet. ‘Shall we go, Prince Zal?’
‘How did you know I’m looking for my sister?’
The bird lifted a wing to his beak as if he were yawning. ‘Didn’t I say I knew everything?’
Prince Zal sat by the bird on the carpet, closer to that sharp hooked beak than he liked, but there was little room. ‘Do you have a name?’
‘Toto, my dear boy.’ He sighed loudly. ‘A bird like me and they just call me Toto, a simple parrot.’
Just then the computer screen went blank and all the children in the room groaned as Fozia stopped talking.
Izaak came in. ‘I’m sorry, a wind has blown up and the internet’s not coping. Come and have roti and daal instead.’
‘That is a good story, Fozia,’ Shakila said. ‘Did your ummie tell it to you? I’ve heard one about a parrot that can talk.’
Fozia shrugged. ‘It’s not just one story. I think every story I remember my parents telling me has joined this one. It makes my whole family feel closer …’
Shakila didn’t say a word; she simply gave Fozia a hug.
7
Fozia
While the boys were outside doing a job for Aunty Meena, Fozia helped make another razai for the camps. Lali sat at her feet, resting her nose on her paws as Fozia worked. Aunty Meena wasn’t using the pedal sewing machine, so Fozia began sewing the colourful squares together.
Lali lifted her head towards the noisy courtyard. Fozia smiled and said to Aunty Meena, ‘Those boys sound like they are playing a war game.’ They were supposed to be making dung cakes. It was simple: just mix buffalo dung and water into a thick paste. Mould it into saucer-size paddies, then slap them on the back wall of their house to dry so that they could be used for winter fuel.
Lali raced outside, barking happily. It sounded to Fozia like those boys were slapping dung cakes on each other. And judging by the barking, probably on the pups, too.
Aunty Meena turned to Fozia. ‘I need to take some cloth to Bano and her friends who want to make razais. Would you like to come with me?’
Fozia nodded and tied off her thread so it wouldn’t unravel.
They walked to the next village while Fozia helped carry the cloth. Months ago, when the village was flooded, they needed to make a boat trip to visit these ladies.
‘Where does the money come from for the razais we give away?’ Fozia asked. She knew when Uncle Akram made charpais, people often couldn’t pay the full price for them either.
‘The aid agency Kelsey’s abu works for helped Mr Waheed and Izaak set up a system to assist people who lost their belongings in the flood. Some of the money for cloth comes from people in Pakistan who weren’t affected, and some comes from other generous people in Australia. Izaak is always thinking of creative ways to help.’ Aunty Meena glanced at Fozia. ‘Buying the peahen was his idea and he will sell the chicks. He builds boxes and furniture. Shakila’s grandmothers and aunts crochet blankets for him to sell online. You understand?’
‘Ji, Aunty.’ Fozia was glad people could share what Khuda had given them. She would, too, if she had something to contribute.
Fozia and the Quest of Prince Zal Page 3