I began crying anew. Ren wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb and quoted a poem by Richard Lovelace.
When Love with unconfined wings
Hovers within my gates,
And my divine Althea brings
To whisper at the grates;
When I lie tangled in her hair
And fetter’d to her eye,
The birds that wanton in the air
Know no such liberty.
Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage;
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for an hermitage;
If I have freedom in my love
And in my soul am free,
Angels alone, that soar above,
Enjoy such liberty.
He pressed his forehead to the bars. “The only thing I couldn’t bear is if he hurt you. I won’t allow it. I won’t let him find you, Kelsey. No matter what.”
“What do you mean?”
He smiled. “Nothing, my sweet. Don’t worry.” He moved back to rest his broken body against the wall of the cage. “It’s time to go, iadala.”
I got up to leave but paused at the door when he called out, “Kelsey?”
I turned.
“No matter what happens, please remember that I love you, hridaya patni. Promise me that you’ll remember.”
“I’ll remember. I promise. Mujhe tumse pyarhai, Ren.”
“Go now.”
He smiled weakly, and then his eyes changed. The blue leeched out, and they became gray, flat, and lifeless. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but it almost looked as if Ren had died. I took a hesitant step back.
“Ren?”
His soft voice replied, “Please go, Kelsey. Everything will be alright.”
“Ren?”
“Good-bye, my love.”
“Ren!”
Something was happening, and it wasn’t alright. I felt something snap. I gasped for air. Something was very wrong. The connection I felt between us was almost tangible, like a metal tether. The closer we’d become, the stronger the connection was. It rooted me, connected me to him like a telephone line, but something had severed the cable.
I felt the break, and sharp, jagged ends ripped and tore violently through my heart like hot knives through warm butter. I screamed and thrashed. For the first time since I’d laid eyes on my white tiger, I was alone.
Kishan shook me out of the fog of my dream.
“Kelsey! Kelsey! Wake up!”
I opened my eyes and began crying fresh tears that spilled onto my cheeks and followed the old trails left behind from my dream. I wrapped my arms around Kishan’s neck and sobbed. He pulled me onto his lap, pressed me close, and stroked my back, while I wept inconsolably for his brother.
I must have slept at some point because I woke tangled in my sleeping bag with Kishan’s arms around me. My fist was pressed into my cheek, and my eyes were swollen shut and crusty.
Kishan whispered, “Kelsey?”
I mumbled, “I’m awake.”
“Are you okay?”
My hand lifted involuntarily to the hollow, raw pit I felt in my chest, and a tear leaked out from the corner of my eye. I buried my head in the pillow and took deep breaths to calm myself.
“No,” I said dully. “He’s . . . gone. Something’s happened. I think . . . I think Ren may be dead.”
“What happened? Why do you think that?”
I explained my dream and tried to describe my broken connection to Ren.
“Kelsey, it’s possible that this is all just a dream, a very disturbing one, but just a dream. It’s not uncommon to have violent dreams if you have recently experienced something traumatic, like the fight we had with the birds.”
“Maybe. But I didn’t dream about the birds.”
“Even so, we can’t be sure. Remember that Durga said she would protect him.”
“I remember. But it was so real.”
“There’s no way to know for sure.”
“Maybe there is.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I think we should visit the Silvanae again. Maybe we can sleep in the Grove of Dreams, and I can see the future. Maybe I’ll see if we can save him or not.”
“Do you think it will work?”
“The Silvanae said if they had a desperate problem to work out, they went there for answers. Please, Kishan. Let’s try.”
Kishan wiped a tear off my cheek with his thumb. “Okay, Kells. Let’s find Faunus.”
“Kishan, one more thing. What does hridaya patni mean?”
“Where did you hear that?” he asked softly.
“In my dream. Ren said it to me before we parted.”
Kishan got up and walked outside the tent. I followed and found him staring into the distance. His arm was propped up against a tree limb. Without turning around, he said, “It’s a pet name our father used for our mother. It means . . . ‘wife of my heart.’”
It took a long day of hiking to reach the Silvanae village. They were overjoyed to see us and wanted to have a party. I didn’t feel like celebrating. When I asked if we could sleep in the Grove of Dreams again, Faunus assured me that everything they had was at our disposal. The tree nymphs brought me a small dinner and left me alone in one of their cottages until nightfall. Kishan understood that I wanted to be alone and he ate with the Silvanae.
When evening came, Kishan returned with a visitor. “I want you to meet someone, Kells.” He held the hand of a small silver-haired toddler.
“Who’s this?”
“Can you tell the pretty lady your name?”
“Rock,” the boy replied.
“Your name is Rock?” I asked.
The sweet baby face grinned at me.
Kishan said, “Actually, his name is Tarak.”
“Tarak?” I gasped. “That’s impossible! He looks like he’s almost two!”
Kishan shrugged. “Apparently, the Silvanae mature quickly.”
“Amazing! Tarak, come here and let me take a look at you.”
I held out my arms, and Kishan encouraged him forward. Tarak took a few clumsy steps toward me before falling into my lap.
“You’re such a big boy now! And so handsome too. Would you like to play? Watch this.”
I took the Scarf from around my neck, and we watched the kaleidoscope of colors shift and change. When the baby touched it, a tiny handprint of hot pink appeared on the fabric before disappearing in a swirl of yellow.
“Stuffed animals, please.”
The fabric shifted, divided, and turned into stuffed animals of every kind. Kishan sat beside me, and we played with Tarak and the stuffed animal parade. The sting in my heart lessened as I laughed with the young Silvanae child.
When Kishan picked up the stuffed tiger and taught Tarak the proper way to growl, he looked up at me. Our eyes met, and he winked. I grabbed his hand, squeezed it, and mouthed, “Thank you.”
Kishan kissed my fingers, smiled, and said, “Aunt Kelsey needs to get some sleep. It’s time to take you back to your family, Little Man.”
He scooped up Tarak, placed him on his shoulders, and said quietly, “I’ll be right back.”
I gathered the stuffed animals and told the Scarf we didn’t need them anymore. Threads began spinning in the air and wove themselves back to form. Just as it finished, Kishan returned.
He crouched down, cupped my chin, and tilted my face up for his perusal. “Kelsey, you’re exhausted. The Silvanae have prepared a bath for you. Go soak for a while before you sleep. I’ll meet you in the Grove, okay?”
I nodded and let the same three Silvanae women lead me back to the bathing area. They were quiet this time, leaving me to my thoughts as they gently soaped my hair and rubbed scented lotion into my skin. They dressed me in a spun-silk robe before an orange-winged fairy guided me to the Grove of Dreams. Kishan was already there and had taken the liberty of creating a hammock with the Divine Scarf.
I mocked gently, “N
ot interested in sharing the honeymoon suite again, I see.”
His back was turned toward me as he tested a knot of the hammock. “I just thought it would be better to . . .” He turned around and gave me a potent, steamy look. His golden eyes widened, and he quickly busied himself with knots again. Clearing his throat, he said, “It’s definitely better for you to sleep by yourself this time, Kells. I’ll be comfortable over here.”
I shivered and tried to pretend Kishan’s gaze hadn’t affected me. “Suit yourself.”
Kishan got into his hammock, laying back with his hands behind his head. He watched me as I pulled back the sheets.
I heard him say softly, “You look really . . . beautiful, by the way.”
I turned toward him, lifted an arm, and ran my hand down the blue silk robe with long fairy sleeves. I knew that my hair hung down in supple waves and my pale skin gleamed from a vigorous scrubbing and the sparkling lotions of the Silvanae. Perhaps I did look beautiful, but I felt hollow, as empty as a plastic Easter egg. Colorfully, perhaps even elaborately decorated on the outside, but there was nothing in my center. I was drained to the core. “Thank you,” I said mechanically as I climbed into the bed.
I lay awake staring at the stars for a long time. I could feel Kishan’s eyes on me as I tucked a hand under my cheek and finally drifted to sleep.
I dreamt of nothing. Not of Ren, not of myself, not Kishan or even Mr. Kadam . . . I dreamed of emptiness. A great blackness filled my mind, a void. A space with no shape, no depth, no richness, and no happiness. I woke before Kishan. Without Ren, my life meant nothing. It was empty, hollow, and worthless. That was what the Grove of Dreams was trying to tell me. Too much was gone.
When my parents died, it was like two mighty trees had been uprooted. Ren had come into my life and had filled the empty landscape of my heart. My heart had healed, and the dry ground had been replaced by soft grass, lovely sandalwood trees, climbing jasmine, and roses. Right in the center of everything was a water fountain surrounded by tiger lilies, a beautiful place where I could sit and feel warmth and peace and love. Now the fountain was shattered, the lilies uprooted, the trees toppled, and there just wasn’t enough soil left to grow anything else. I was barren, desolate—a desert incapable of sustaining life.
A soft breeze stirred my hair and blew strands of it across my face. I didn’t bother pushing them aside. I didn’t hear Kishan get up. I just felt his fingertips brush against my face as he lifted the strands from my cheek and tucked them behind an ear.
“Kelsey?”
I didn’t respond. My unblinking eyes stared at the brightening dawn sky.
“Kells?”
He slid his hands under my body and picked me up. Then he sat on the bed and hugged me to his chest.
“Kelsey, please say something. Talk to me. I can’t stand to see you like this.”
He rocked me for a while. I could hear him and respond to him in my mind, but I felt detached from my environment, from my body.
I felt a raindrop hit my cheek, and the shock of it woke me, brought me to the surface. I lifted a hand and brushed the drop away.
“Is it raining? I didn’t think it rained here.”
He didn’t answer. Another drop splashed on my forehead.
“Kishan?” I looked at him and realized it wasn’t rain but tears.
His golden eyes were full of watery tears.
Puzzled, I lifted a hand to his cheek. “Kishan? Why are you crying?”
He smiled weakly. “I thought you were lost, Kells.”
“Oh.”
“Tell me. What did you see to take you so far away from me? Did you see Ren?”
“No. I saw nothing. My dreams were filled with cold blackness. I think it means he’s dead.”
“No. I don’t think so, Kells. I saw Ren in my dreams.”
Vitality surged back into my limbs. “You saw him? Are you sure?”
“Yes. We were arguing on a boat, actually.”
“Could it be a dream from the past?”
“No. We were on a modern yacht. In fact, it’s the yacht that belongs to us.”
I sat up straighter. “Are you absolutely 100 percent certain that this happens in the future?”
“I’m sure.”
I hugged him and kissed his cheeks and forehead. I punctuated each kiss with “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
“Wait, Kells. The thing is, in the dream, we were arguing about—”
I laughed, grabbed his shirt, and shook him lightly, crazed with giddy relief. He was alive! “I don’t care what you were arguing about. You two always argue.”
“But I think I should tell you—”
I hopped off his lap and began moving quickly, gathering our things. “Tell me later. There’s no time now. Let’s get going. What are we waiting for? A tiger needs to be rescued. Come on. Come on!”
I darted around with crazed energy. A desperate, fevered determination filled my mind. Every minute we delayed meant more pain for the one I loved. The dream of Ren had been real. I wouldn’t have thought up new words in Hindi by myself, especially an endearment his father has used for his mother. I had been with him somehow. I had touched him, kissed him. Something had broken our connection, but he was still alive! He could be saved. In fact, he would be saved! Kishan had seen the future!
The Silvanae prepared a sumptuous breakfast, but we took it to go, hurried through good-byes, and headed back toward the spirit gate. It took two days of fast hiking to get to the gate following the directions the Silvanae had given us. Kishan said very little on the trip, and I was too wrapped up in thoughts of finding Ren to find out why.
Upon reaching the gate, I asked the Divine Scarf to create new winter gear for us, and after changing, I summoned my lightning power and placed my hand in the carved depression on the side of the gate. My skin glowed, becoming translucent and pink as the gateway shimmered and opened. We looked at each other, and I suddenly felt sad— as if we were saying good-bye. Kishan removed his glove and pressed a warm palm to my cheek as he studied my face soberly. I smiled and hugged him.
I’d meant it to be brief, but he wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tightly. I disentangled myself ungracefully, replaced my glove, and stepped through the gate into a sunny day on Mount Everest. My winter boots crunched on the white sparkling snow as Kishan stepped through and changed into the black tiger.
23
Going Home
After we passed through the gate, I turned to watch the land of Shangri-la vanish in a swirl of color. The red light that pulsed in the handprint faded, and the spirit gate returned to its former appearance— two tall wooden poles with long strings of prayer flags blowing in the breeze.
I blinked several times and rubbed my eyes lightly. Something was sticking to my lashes. I carefully peeled away a transparent green film, which had slipped off each eye like a pair of contact lenses.
Kishan appeared to be stuck in tiger form and probably would be for a while like Ren had been after Kishkindha. He blinked his eyes at me, and I could see the green film peeling away from one eye.
“Hold very still. I’ve got to get this out or it will bother you the whole way.”
I lifted the film off one eye and then the other. It took a long time, but I was proud I could do it at all. The Ocean Teacher had said that as we exited Shangri-la the scales would fall from our eyes, and we could see the real world again. I didn’t expect his words would be this literal.
I adjusted the backpack over my shoulders and began the steep descent back to Mr. Kadam’s camp. The sun was shining, but it was still cold. I felt the same burning energy pushing me forward. I wouldn’t stop to rest, though Kishan clearly wanted me to. I encouraged him to keep going and stopped only when it was too dark to see the landscape.
Since Hugin had helped me get my thoughts unstuck, my mind had become limpid, clear. I calculated and devised a plan. I knew how to save Ren. The only thing I didn’t know was where to find him. I hoped that Mr. Kadam
would know something about the culture or the whereabouts of the people we had seen in the vision.
The physical features I’d taken note of might not be enough for him to go on, but it was all we had. If anyone could figure out where to begin searching, it was Mr. Kadam. I also hoped that time had stood still, or at least slowed, while we were in Shangri-la. I was sure that Ren would be tormented every moment he was with Lokesh. It was unbearable thinking of him being in pain at all, let alone for the many days we’d spent in the world beyond the spirit gate.
I lay awake in our tent that night for a long while thinking about my strategy and analyzing it from as many angles as I could. I would not allow Lokesh to take anyone else. There would be no trades for Ren. We were going to save him and all of us would be going home.
The next morning, Kishan woke and changed to a man. I quickly had snow gear made for him, and he dressed in the tent while I got some breakfast together. He soon joined me dressed in his new clothes: a rust colored base-layer shirt that fit tightly under a black waterproof jacket, black pants with elastic cuffs, warm insulated gloves, thick wool socks, and snow boots. I appraised his appearance and congratulated myself on doing a good job.
We discovered that recovering the Scarf had given Kishan another six hours of freedom from his tiger self. We were now halfway finished with our quest. The tigers could take human form for twelve hours of the day.
Though I was in a hurry, Kishan reminded me that it would take us at least two full days to hike down the mountain. When we made camp the second night, I decided it was time to talk to him about my rescue plan and show him what else the Scarf could do.
After we’d settled in our tent, conveniently made by the Scarf, I unzipped my sleeping bag and spread it on the floor. I encouraged him to sit across from me, before I picked up the Scarf.
“Okay, the Scarf can do several things. It can become or create anything made of fabric or natural fibers. It doesn’t have to reabsorb what it creates. It can, but it can also leave the thing behind, and then the creation loses the magic of the cloth. The Scarf can also be shaped to gather the winds like in the story of the Japanese god ’s bag. The third thing it can be used for is . . . changing appearance.”
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