Tiger's Voyage (12 page)

“Before the tsunami hit the coast, the water receded and people high above the waterline reported seeing the remains of buildings and large stones, but the water rushed back in and covered everything again. Those city walls have since been rediscovered about a half mile from the coast.

“Statues of elephants, horses, lions, and deities have now been found. The only building left above water is the Shore Temple. Fishermen had passed down stories of the city for centuries and told tales of seeing the sunken city sparkling beneath the waves, of giant fish that swam through the ruins, of winking jewels left untouched because anyone trying to dive there would be cursed to never rise again.”

“That sounds like a fabulous place,” I said acerbically.

“It caused enough of a stir that several books were written about it, and many archaeologists have studied it. In one book, I read that Marco Polo made note of the city on his visit there in 1275 and said the copper-domed tops of the temples were a landmark for navigators. Many dismissed his claims or thought he spoke of another city. I feel this is the place we need to go to seek out the Black Pearl Necklace.”

I blew out a breath and stood. “Okay. Bring on the diving lessons.”

“First, I think we should relocate.”

“Relocate to where?” I asked, confused.

Mr. Kadam clasped his hands together and answered matter-offactly, “Relocate to the yacht, of course.”

“Nilima has been getting the ship ready in Mumbai,” Mr. Kadam explained. “We’ll sail around India and stop in Goa to pick up our diving instructor. He will remain on board until we drop him off in Trivandrum. It will take you most of the trip to become a proficient diver, and time is of the essence.”

“So you’re ready to go? Just like that? Don’t we have a lot more research to do first?” I asked.

“We will be traveling fairly slowly, and I’ve already stocked the boat’s library with all the research materials we need, so we can work as we set sail. The yacht is capable of making twenty knots and could get us there within a few days if we traveled by night, but I prefer to go much slower. There are stops we must make along the way, to a temple of Durga, for example, and I also want you to have plenty of time for practice dives before we get to the City of the Seven Pagodas.”

I fidgeted nervously. “So when do we leave?”

“After the Star Festival next week,” Mr. Kadam stated, as calm as ever.

Ren sat up. “Do they still celebrate that here?”

Mr. Kadam smiled. “Yes, though the traditions have changed somewhat over the years.”

“What’s the Star Festival?” I interrupted.

Ren turned to me and explained, “It’s the Chinese equivalent of Valentine’s Day.”

“And India has a festival for that?”

Mr. Kadam clarified, “Japan and even Brazil celebrate a similar holiday. It’s not exactly the same as Valentine’s Day in America. The festival that takes place here is the remnant of a holiday begun by this family.”

Kishan added, “My mother loved the holiday and wanted to celebrate it in India, so my father established it in his kingdom. Apparently, they’ve been doing so ever since.”

“What happens during the Star Festival? What are the traditions?”

Mr. Kadam stood. “I believe I’ll let Ren and Kishan tell you about that. Goodnight, Miss Kelsey.”

“Goodnight.”

I looked from Ren to Kishan and waited for one of them to say something. They stared at each other. I elbowed Kishan. “Well? Tell me.”

“Keep in mind that I haven’t attended the celebration for a few centuries, but if I remember correctly, the city has a party with fireworks, food, and lanterns. The girls all dress up. There’s dancing and music.”

“Oh. So it’s not like an American version of Valentine’s Day? Is it about love? Are there chocolates, flowers, and cards?”

“Well, there are flowers and cards, but they’re not store-bought.”

Ren interrupted. “It’s also an opportunity for someone to wish for the person they want to marry.”

“But I thought most of your marriages were arranged.”

“They are,” Kishan said. “It’s just an innocent way for a maiden to express herself. I’m curious to see how the customs have changed since our time. I think you’ll enjoy yourself,
bilauta
.” He squeezed my hand and winked at me.

Ren cleared his throat. “In China it’s called the Night of Sevens and is supposed to occur on the seventh day in the seventh month of the year, but the date isn’t as important as the stars. The celebration occurs when the stars Orihime and Hikoboshi align, so when you write your wish, you are literally wishing on a star. I don’t know the English names for those stars. You’d have to ask Mr. Kadam.”

“What am I supposed to wear?”

“Do you trust me?”

I sighed. “Yes. Your taste in clothing is usually better than mine.”

“Good. I’ll get you something appropriate. If the celebration is true to tradition, a maiden stays near her parents and is allowed to be escorted to certain activities or games only with the permission of her father. It would be customary for you and Nilima to remain close to Kadam. However, because you’re not Indian it really wouldn’t matter. You could roam freely if you wish.”

“Hmm. I’ll think about it.”

The next week was bustling with activity. Mr. Kadam and I went through the library book by book, packing up anything we thought might be useful on the boat. I researched on the Internet for hours about the dragons of the five oceans. I also spent a lot of time with Kishan and Ren, though more with the latter.

Ren was beginning to seem like his old self. We read together often. He liked being in the same room with me, albeit at a distance. He frequently asked me to sit with him while he played music or wrote poetry, and he’d ask my opinion about certain phrases or lyrics.

He teased and joked with me and tried to hold my hand but it seemed that there was no building up a tolerance, despite his efforts. It hurt him and he got sick every time. He tried not to let it show, but I knew. Still, he seemed happy to be with me, and I contented myself with whatever time I could spend with him.

I often reached out to touch Ren’s arm or his shoulder but then pulled back, knowing it would hurt him. He insisted touching his clothing didn’t hurt; he just felt the pressing need to escape, and he said he was getting used to the feeling. But still, our relationship felt very limited.

I wasn’t exactly sure what he was
feeling
or
thinking
. It seemed as if he was making a great effort to spend time with me despite the side effects. We didn’t talk about our feelings again, but he seemed determined to get closer, to
be
closer to me. He tried all sorts of things to find the trigger that would turn on his memory, and started leaving me flowers and poems through the day, much as he did in Oregon. It was
almost
enough.

I didn’t give the festival another thought until Ren found me writing on the veranda one early afternoon.

“I brought your dress for the festival.”

“Oh, thanks,” I said distractedly. “Would you mind leaving it on the bed? I’ll put it away later.”

“Put it away? The festival is tonight, Kells. And what on earth are you writing?”

“What? How did a week go by so quickly?” I clutched my book to my chest as Ren tried to peek over my shoulder. “If you must know, Mr. Nosy, I’m writing a poem.”

He grinned. “I didn’t know you wrote other than in your journal. May I take a look?”

“I’m still working on some of the words. It’s not as good as yours. You’ll laugh.”

Ren sat down across from me. “Kelsey, I won’t. Please? What’s it about?”

“Love.” I sighed. “You’re going to sit here and pester me until I show you, aren’t you?”

“Probably. I’m dying of curiosity.”

“Alright, fine. But it’s my first one, so be nice.”

Ren bowed his head. “Of course,
strimani
. I am always the perfect gentleman.”

I smirked at him but handed it over and sat biting my nails while he read through it once quietly. Then he read it out loud.

Love Is about Grooming

Love is about grooming
It starts …
Sweet smelling lotion is smoothed over rough skin
Cologne is splashed on freshly shaved cheeks
Shiny faces, starched shirts, short skirts
Colored lips, cheeks, and hair
We glisten

We are plucked, plumed, perfumed, and powdered
We buy flowers, chocolates, candles, and jewels
It’s not real

Real love is drab, rough, stubbly
It’s mothers changing diapers
It’s toenail trimming, nose wiping, morning breath
Trade in your high heels for tennis shoes and house slippers
Mousy manes
Tangled tendrils

Love’s chap-lipped, ear waxy, prickly bearded,
and jagged nailed
It’s a back scratching, hairy legged, there’s something
between your teeth, Dear, feeling

Real love
Is plucking hairs from your husband’s back
Emptying Grandpa’s bedpan
Wearing sweats on a Friday night
Saving money, not spending it
Wiping feverish faces with cool towels

Lionesses lick clean their cubs
Monkeys pick bugs off backs
Humans wash dead mothers’ hair before burial

Love is about grooming

Ren sat silent for a time as he stared at the paper. My foot tapped nervously.

“Well? Might as well get it out.”

“It’s a bit … morose. But I like it. Though technically, monkeys don’t pick bugs off for love. They do it for afternoon snacks.”

I snatched my notebook back. “And that kind of snacking dedication
is
love, a dedicated love for the snack.”

He looked at me curiously. “You’ve experienced all these forms of love, haven’t you?”

“Most of them, I guess. Though I have to admit I’ve never emptied a bedpan.”

“Or plucked hairs from your boyfriend’s back, I assume.”

“Nope, your back is perfect.”

He studied me under his long, sooty lashes. “You have a great capacity for love, and you’ve been hurt. I’m sorry I added to that.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Ren touched my hand briefly before withdrawing. “It’s the only thing I ever think about. See you tonight.” He turned before he disappeared into the hall and grinned. “And save me a dance.”

After he left, I walked over to my bed and pulled back the gift’s tissue wrapping. Inside was a gorgeous silk Chinese dress. I carefully held it up to me. It was Ren’s favorite color. The dress was a blue gradation that started with a soft royal tone from the neck to mid-chest and changed to a dark zodiac blue—the color of the sky at night.

Stars, moons, planets, and fierce dragons were embroidered in gold and silver threads all over the dress. The symbols were interspersed with looping vines and flowers, also in silver and gold. The neck was mandarin style with a small keyhole opening and a silver frog clasp. The dress stopped at mid-calf, and I was just raising my eyebrow at its incredibly long side slit when I noticed the tag.

Ren bought this. He didn’t make it with the Divine Scarf.

Just then, Mr. Kadam knocked on my door and delivered two boxes. “The dress is lovely, Miss Kelsey. I brought your shoes and hairclips, which just arrived. Nilima said to tell you she’ll be up in an hour to help you with your hair.

“I’ve never seen a dress as beautiful as this. Why did he buy it? He could have made it with the Scarf.”

Mr. Kadam shrugged. “The dress is called a
qipao
. It’s traditional in Chinese culture. His mother often wore similar clothing. You might see some here at the party in India, but it’s probable you will see the more traditional Indian clothing. You will likely stand out, which, I imagine, is the reason he bought it.”

“Oh. Well, thanks. I’ll see you in a couple of hours, then.”

“I look forward to the celebration.”

As promised, Nilima knocked on my bathroom door an hour later as I was finishing straightening my hair.

“Ah, perfect. I have a certain style in mind and it requires smooth hair.”

I sat on a cushioned chair in front of the wide mirror and looked at Nilima. She was already dressed in a burnt orange
lehenga
with a velvet blouse that had silk appliqué. Crystals, beads, sequins, and cut glass embellished her skirt and
dupatta
. The slim Indian woman’s long dark hair was curled and fell attractively down her back. The sides were held back loosely with gold and orange butterfly clips, and she wore heavy gold earrings and bracelets.

“You look beautiful, Nilima.”

“Thank you. You will look lovely as well.”

“Well, if your hair is any indication, I’m sure I’ll pass for acceptable.”

She laughed as she sectioned off my hair. I tried to pay attention, but her hands moved quickly. She neatly parted my hair to the side and began combing out and rolling sections to tuck into an elaborate bun at the nape of my neck. When she was satisfied, she removed an assortment of combs from one of the boxes Mr. Kadam had brought earlier. The jeweled combs were made of sapphires and diamonds, shaped like stars, moons, and flowers.

A pair of dangling earrings was included. A glittering royal blue oval stone was the center and dark blue stones fanned out like crescent moons. A star of diamonds hung in the middle and small glass droplet beads in royal blue, dark blue, gold, and silver hung below it.

Nilima tucked the combs into my hair around the elaborate style she’d done and pronounced me presentable. I asked for help getting into my tight dress. Without the garment’s slit I could not have moved without popping a seam.

Nilima told me it looked fine, but I was sure I’d be tugging at my dress all night trying to keep my leg modestly covered. The other box Mr. Kadam had left held a pair of shoes—heeled slippers in silver with gold-braided trim around the top.

I stood in front of the closet’s full-length mirror to get the whole picture. I was shocked that the girl in the mirror was me. I looked exotic. A long bare leg peeped from the slit, and with the heels on, I looked even taller.