Different Senses (23 page)

It wasn’t easy, and the process
opened up more questions for which I had no answers, and no one to
ask. I knew I was missing stuff because I didn’t know what was
important, what was not. The librarians tried to help but they
said, to their knowledge, the commentaries on the colonisation by
indigenous historians were all in Nihani. They did offer me a
language course though. In a year or so I might be able to read
simple textbooks, they said. Spectacular.

Incognito
for me meant a generic
coat, a Nihani scarf I’d found in a second-hand store that
afternoon, and keeping my head down. And not taking my own auto, of
course, so once I’d had my supper, I walked down to the transit
centre to hail a taxi. Before I’d walked a dozen steps, a sleek
black auto pulled alongside me. “Sri Ythen, do you need a
lift?”

I recognised the driver, though
not his companion. “I’m fine, Sri Vishva. Thank you.”

The other man leaned out of the
car, and in his hand, a small but perfectly serviceable pistol. “We
must insist, Sri Ythen. Get into the car.”

I could run, or yell. At that
distance though, and where he was aiming, he could hardly miss and
I was rather fond of my testicles for all they weren’t getting much
use lately. “Is this necessary, Sri Vishva?”

“Yes, unfortunately. Get
in.”

The two of them were more
scared than I was. Provided the guy with the weapon didn’t set it
off by accident, I thought I was probably safe. So I got into the
back seat. Vishva locked the door and headed off at speed.

“Sri Ythen, I thought we had an
agreement.”

“And what was that,
Vishva?”

“That you would let me outbid
any offer you had for your aunt’s collection. Including the
shirt.”

“
I said I’d consider it,
Vishva. No promises. I’ve had a very generous offer. The shirt’s
worthless. A fake. It’s not part of the
gatha.
”

Both men tensed up, angry. “You
should not speak of such things,” the other guy growled.

“Yeah, yeah. Look, I know why
you want that shirt, and I’m telling you, you don’t have anything
to worry about.”

“We can’t take your word for
it. Tanmay Kly must not have it.”

“And you must? Last I heard,
you could see just fine, Vishva. You’re not one of the
keepers.”

“Neither is he!” Vishva yelled.
The auto swerved.

“Beloved reason, will you
concentrate? Or pull over? This is ridiculous. Stop the fucking
vehicle, Vishva. I’ve got a weapon too and unlike Sri Sweaty Palms,
I know how to use it.” I whipped it out and put it against the
guy’s head. “Now stop the auto or your friend will find out what
it’s like to have a ventilated brain.”

Vishva barked something
in Nihani and the other guy answered. The auto slowed and stopped,
and I grabbed the guy’s weapon before he remembered he could still
use it. “Better. Now knock this off, the pair of you. Vishva,
Tanmay Kly is not going to get any of the
gatha
from me, okay? Neither
are you. I’m going to make sure
everything
is returned where it
belongs. Any more dramatics from you amateurs, and I’ll see you
arrested and locked up for weeks while the
chuma
cops sit on their
arses wondering how to make your lives miserable.”

“We can’t lose any more of our
heritage to your people.”

“You won’t on my account. I
give you my word.”

“
Word of a
chuma
.”

“
Word of a man descended
from Sureni Kala Uday, a man who is
matos
, and employed by Roshni
Deela Yatin. I’m not
udawatha
, but I respect your
people. You can trust me.”

The guy I had a bead on
muttered in Nihani, and Vishva answered him, before saying to me,
“We are taught from a young age not to trust those with dark hair
and dark eyes.”

“And I was taught from a young
age that those with red hair and light eyes are all lazy thieves
who never amount to anything. I can’t tell you any more because I
hold a client’s trust, but Tanmay Kly won’t get what he wants.”

Looking at me over the back of
the seat, Vishva nodded. “All right. You truly understand how
important this is?”

“I truly do. Give me time. I’m
not the only person working on it, and speaking of that, you’ve
made me late for an important meeting. Give me a lift over to
Tockta Street and we’ll call it quits.”

A sullen silence prevailed
while Vishva obeyed, but the two of them exuded confusion, shame
and anger. They were lucky. Pulling that stunt on another ex-cop
would have ended up with them arrested at best, dead at worst. They
were just kids—desperate, loyal kids, way out of their league.

Vishva let me out a few
hundred metres from Roshni-ji’s house. “My
hewiz
,” his friend said,
holding his hand out for the weapon.

“
Uh uh. You’re not old
enough to play with toys like this. If I hear about you threatening
anyone else in this way, things won’t go so well. I admire what
you’re trying to do, but you need to learn violence doesn’t solve
anything. Go on home,
beto
.”

I slammed the door and the auto
screeched away. I hoped Vishva had someone older and sensible to
ask about this, but I doubted it. He needed a keeper of his
own.

I ran as discreetly as I could
to my appointment, but this time Shardul had the pleasure of being
annoyed at my lateness. “I have an excuse,” I panted.

“I’m sure. Hurry up.”

Roshni-ji nodded at me as I
came into her living room, but didn’t rise. “Welcome, Javen. I
believe you’ve met my guest, Induma.”

I stared in shock at the young
woman I’d last seen at Kly’s house. She didn’t look my way. “Uh,
yes. Sorry I’m late.”

“
Never mind that,”
Shardul said. “I’ve had a number of discussions with Induma and
she’s confirmed Tanmay Kly has the
monuwel
.”

“Isn’t he your boyfriend?” I
asked Induma. She didn’t deign to acknowledge my question.

“
Induma informs us Kly
was not behind the theft here or at the other residence, and his
intention is to return the
monuwel
after he’s finished with
it,” Shardul said.

“Finished with it?”

Induma spoke for the
first time. “Tanmay is dying. He’s afraid to die, but more than
that, he’s afraid not to be reborn. He’s converted to
udawa
.”

I raised my eyebrows at
Shardul, whose scepticism, as that of his aunt, came over loud and
clear. “Okay. Then stealing the
monuwel
isn’t exactly the best
way to be on side with the Spirit.”

“His fear is too great for
rationality. He means no harm.”

“Then all we have to do is wait
for him to give it back, right? No?”

Shardul made a face.
“Unfortunately, Kly believes that such an important artefact should
be kept in the museum under lock and key rather than in private
hands. He cites the fact it was stolen this time as proof.”

“He does have a point.” I said.
“Uh, sorry, Roshni-ji.”

“
It’s not for Tanmay Kly
to make that decision,” she said, keeping the anger I sensed out of
her expression. “It’s not for any Kelon to do so. The
monuwel
is
part of our tradition. It is our responsibility.
My
responsibility. Not his. Not any Kelon’s.”

“Yes. I’m sorry. I got carried
away. So what’s the plan, and why does he need it?”

Induma sighed. “He says
he’s
udawatha
, but his instructor
is—”

“—A complete lunatic,” Shardul
interjected helpfully. “That’s Gagan. Gagan Warl. I’m still trying
to find out more about him, but I don’t like what I’ve heard about
him so far.”

“Yes,” Induma agreed. “On
Tanmay’s property is the burial site of one of the Seeker’s
incarnations. A sacred site.”

“
One of many stolen by
the
chuma
,” Shardul muttered.

“Carry on,” I said to
Induma.

“
Gagan had told Tanmay
that if he drinks from the
monuwel
at the grave, and recites
certain prayers, he will be viewed favourably by the Spirit. Even,
possibly, to the point of being granted a cure, or at least a
remission.”

“Nothing in our beliefs
supports that,” Roshni-ji said firmly. “This Gagan is an
impostor.”

“
He’s
udawatha
too?” I
asked.

“So he claims,” Induma said,
her lips twisting in contempt. “He says he was married to one of
our women before she divorced him. Personally I suspect he’s a
fraud through and through.”

“Certainly a most cruel person,
playing on a sick man’s mind like this,” Roshni-ji said.

“
Yes,” Induma agreed. “He
was the one who brought the
monuwel
to Tanmay. He has already
had himself inserted into Tanmay’s will. I believe he may even be
behind the theft of the
monuwel
, and the attempt on
the
sawret
. I don’t know how Gagan learned of the
gatha
. Tanmay obtained
a diary some years ago which, much against our traditions, recorded
their existence and significance, with descriptions. None of us
told him what it meant, but he has many contacts with our people.
He can be persuasive, and there are some who will talk of such
matters for money. I would not.”

“Induma’s grandmother was a
keeper,” Shardul explained to me.

“Why didn’t you come to
Roshni-ji before this?” I asked. “If you feel so strongly, why
didn’t you ask for help?”

“I love Tanmay.”

“You hate him.”

I sensed pain and shame
from her, as her expression twisted. “I love him and sometimes I
hate him. I pity him and I want to make sure he dies in full
communion with the Spirit, for it will comfort him. I hoped to
change his mind about the
monuwel
. But since your visit, he
has talked of nothing but the
sawret
, and Gagan encourages him
to believe that wearing it will increase the magic.”

“So what’s your plan?” I asked
Shardul.

“
We provide Kly with the
fake, so he goes ahead with the ceremony without any further delay.
While it’s in progress, you and I will gain access to his property
with Induma’s help—which means it will be legal—and retrieve
the
monuwel
.”

I held up my hands. “Whoa. No
way. We have no proof he obtained the object unlawfully. The only
people who can walk in and seize possibly stolen property are the
police. And need I remind you I am not a cop any more?”

Shardul sneered.
“Certainly we can contact the police. They might even listen to
you. If they seize the
monuwel
, we’ll then be in a
position of proving ownership on the testimony of a blind
women—forgive me,
muor
—of something very few people
have seen and of which there are no visual records. If the case
goes to court, or even if Kly is charged, the publicity will mean
our greatest secret will be exposed for all to pick over. So no. We
don’t involve the police. If necessary, I’ll go on my
own.”

“
Great. So one of the
best lawyers and advocates the
banis
have will end up in jail,
and his career will be over. Not worth it, Shardul.”

“
The
monuwel
must be
returned to the keeper. Everything else is unimportant.”

“No, Shardul,” Roshni-ji said,
turning her blind eyes upon him. “You’re wrong, and Javen is right.
We need you. Remember the sacrifices we made to educate you.
Remember how many hopes we place in you. No. I forbid it, by the
power vested in my position.”

“
I’ll retrieve it, if no
one else can,” Induma said. “Only I think Gagan will try and stop
me by force. He wants the
monuwel
very badly and I suspect
it will never reach the museum.”

I sighed. “Okay, knock it off.
I’ve had all the stupid self-sacrificing dramatic gestures I can
deal with in one night. We need a better plan than this. I’ll send
Kly a message to say my cousin is happy for him to have the shirt.
That gives us at least a week to prepare. Shardul, you need to
speak to Vishva and his friends and tell them to stop threatening
people with guns or they’re going to end up in prison.”

He turned sharply towards me.
“What?”

“I’ll explain later. Induma, we
need all the dirt you can dig on this Gagan, because he’s the one
we need to stop.” She nodded. “Roshni-ji?”

“I knew we were right to place
our trust in you, Javen.”

“
Thanks, though we still
have to get the
monuwel
back.”

Induma stood. “I must go. I
told Tanmay I was visiting my family. I have to be home before
midnight.”

“I’ll be in touch,” Shardul
said, kissing her lightly on the cheek. She kissed Roshni-ji’s
cheek in turn, knelt respectfully, then slipped out of the
apartment.

“I too need to go, and you,
Ythen. What’s this about Vishva?”

I explained, and showed him the
confiscated weapon, shocking Roshni-ji when Shardul described it to
her. “He was a very good boy. What happened to him?”