The Emerald Casket (10 page)

Gerald found himself falling into step behind a boy maybe nine years old. He was barefoot and stripped to the waist, and on his head, balanced on a folded tea towel, he carried a block of ice the size of four house bricks. In the stifling heat of the marketplace, cut off from any cooling breeze, the ice melted freely down his face and over his shoulders. The boy tottered through the crowd of shoppers, one hand steadying the ice and the other slicing between the people in front of him like a butter knife, until he skipped out of view.

‘You have no idea how good it is to be here with you,' Alisha beamed at Gerald. She still clutched his hand and only let it go when her mobile phone chirped in her handbag. She fished it out and looked at the screen. A grin flashed across her face.

‘It's Miss Turner,' she said. ‘Shame about the phone reception in these markets.' She dropped the phone back into her bag. ‘Who's hungry?'

Alisha fronted up to a food stall. A stocky man with a checked cloth knotted around his head to catch the sweat was nevertheless sweating over two large pans of bubbling oil.

She returned with a plate piled with golden brown pyramids of pastry glistening under a sheen of oil.

Gerald picked one up in his fingertips and took a bite. His eyes sprung wide.

‘Hot!' he gasped. ‘Hot, but yum.'

‘Potato samosas,' Alisha said.

The Indian takeaway around the corner from Gerald's house in Sydney had samosas on the menu. But they were bags of soggy flour compared to the flavour bomb that had just exploded in his mouth. Alisha held the plate out for Sam and Ruby.

‘So, what's with your dad?' Sam said through a mouthful. ‘How come he won't let you out without a babysitter?'

Alisha snorted. ‘He's afraid someone's going to throw a bag over my head and hold me for ransom,' she said. ‘As if anyone here knows who I am.'

‘But your dad's really rich,' Ruby said. ‘That makes you a target.'

Alisha glared at Ruby. ‘I think I can look after myself. Five years at boarding school has taught me a few things. I don't need to be rolled in bubble wrap.'

The last of the day's sunlight fell behind the surrounding buildings. Lamps flickered on around the stalls, baking the market in a yellow glaze. Gerald's nose tingled. Alisha pointed down a dog-legged laneway to a crowd of people stepping past large cane baskets brimming with brightly coloured powders of yellow, orange and red.

‘The spice market,' she said. ‘The smell might be a bit strong for you. Can't have you crying.'

As the girls paused to inspect a rack of clothes, a movement in the shadows caught Gerald's eye. He glanced up in time to see something move past the end of the alley. He was astonished.

It was an elephant.

Gerald grabbed Sam by the elbow and pointed in disbelief. ‘Did you see that?'

Sam jumped in alarm. ‘What? A rat?'

‘An elephant, you idiot,' Gerald said. ‘Come on, let's check it out.'

Glad for an excuse to leave the girls to their shopping, they elbowed through the crowd and tumbled out onto a broad walkway. Gerald looked to his right—an endless sea of heads—then to his left. And there it was: the back end of a great grey elephant swaying through the crush of people. Gerald and Sam weaved up to the animal, which was making its steady way down the road. Strings of bells were tied around its feet and neck, jangling in time to its ambling gait, and its face was decorated with white paint. A man leaning on a long bamboo pole and walking next to the beast appeared to be its handler, not that he was doing much handling. The elephant seemed to know where to go.

Gerald bounded along, trying to get in front. ‘Can you believe this?' he called to Sam over the heads of the crowd. Sam caught up and they both managed to get a few paces ahead.

The elephant came to a halt in the middle of the path, its bells falling silent. People gathered around and paid the handler some money. The elephant raised its trunk and tapped each of them on the head.

‘He's blessing them,' a voice by Gerald's elbow said. Gerald startled and looked around to find a man standing beside him. He could have been aged anywhere between thirty and seventy. The man was dressed in a white tunic and his hair was dyed a dull orange. He had an enormous black moustache that occupied half his face, which wore an expression of benign happiness.

‘It's a temple elephant,' the man said. ‘People seek good fortune with his blessings.'

‘He must be tame,' Gerald said. ‘With all this going on.'

The man smiled a knowing smile. ‘The elephant is patient.'

Gerald nodded and turned back to watch the string of blessings.

‘Do you know,' the man spoke again, ‘that all Hindu gods have an animal to carry them in this mortal world?'

Gerald nodded again. He wasn't in the mood for a conversation with a complete stranger.

‘They're called vahanas,' the man said.

‘What?'

‘The gods' vehicles—they're called vahanas.'

‘Oh.'

‘My word yes. The elephant is the vahana of Indra.'

‘Indra?'

‘The storm god. The monsoons are almost upon us.'

Gerald grunted and looked around for Sam. The man suddenly grabbed Gerald's right hand.

‘Hey!'

‘I can tell your fortune,' the man said.

Gerald tried to pull away but he was clamped tight around the wrist.

‘You are an interesting one,' the man muttered, running his fingertips across the open palm. ‘You will face great challenges, great temptations...'

Gerald yanked back on his arm, but the man was insistent.

‘Do you mind?' Gerald said.

‘You are on a quest, yes? To find something long hidden?'

Gerald shook his head. ‘No. I'm not looking for anything.'

‘Not yet, perhaps. But soon enough. There are those who will do all they can to stop you. You must resist them. For what you seek is quite near.'

‘I'm sorry, but I'm not searching for—'

The man lifted his head and looked into Gerald's eyes. In an instant, the man's expression of happiness vanished. He stared at Gerald in dismay.

Gerald stared back at him. The clamour of the market fell away. All Gerald could hear was the man's voice.

‘The tenth gate is about to open,' he said in a hoarse whisper. He released his grip and held trembling fingers up close to Gerald's eyes. ‘But you are not yet ready.'

The man spun around and went to flee. But Gerald grabbed him by the arm. It was his turn to hold on tight.

‘Are you talking about the casket?' Gerald asked. ‘Do you know where the casket is hidden? Is it behind some gate?'

The fortune-teller struggled to free himself. ‘I will tell,' he beseeched. ‘But you must let go.' Gerald pressed his lips together then relaxed his grip.

The man rubbed his arm. ‘Much is set down in your future that you cannot change,' he said, gasping. ‘You will face a decision, a choice that you must make.' He looked at Gerald with stricken eyes. ‘When the time comes, you must remember this: nothing is certain.'

Gerald recoiled. ‘What did you just say?' he demanded.

The man ran his hands down the front of Gerald's shirt, straightening his clothing. ‘It is nothing,' he babbled, stumbling backwards. His eyes darted in all directions, as if afraid of being watched. His face was smeared with dread.

‘Did you say
nothing is certain
?' Gerald asked again, advancing on the man. ‘Is that what you said?'

The man backed across the laneway, bumping against people in his haste. ‘I was wrong,' the man said. ‘A mistake.' Before Gerald could get any closer the man squeezed between two stalls and vanished into the rust-coloured night.

‘What's the matter?' Sam asked as he caught up. ‘What was he on about?'

Gerald stared at the narrow gap where the man had escaped.

‘Nothing is certain,' Gerald said through tight lips.

Sam shrugged. ‘What's the big deal?'

Gerald turned and stared into his friend's face. ‘I've never told anyone this,' he said. ‘On the last day of school term, the day before I left for England with my parents, I was daydreaming in history class.'

‘So?' Sam said. ‘I've been known to snore.'

‘I was being chased by a monster.'

Sam let out a snort.

‘Yeah, I know,' Gerald said. ‘It sounds lame.'

‘Only sounds lame?'

‘Shut up. This monster was yelling at me. And he only yelled one thing.'

‘Nothing is certain?' Sam said.

Gerald nodded. ‘It must be a coincidence. But my daydreams have a habit of coming true.'

Sam looked at Gerald with a puzzled expression.

‘You remember,' Gerald said. ‘First in the British Museum and then in Mr Hoskins' bookshop. I went off into some trance, saw a vision and then thirty seconds later it came true.'

‘What did that guy say to you?'

‘I don't know. I was too busy trying to get my hand back. Something about some challenges. And what I seek is hidden behind the tenth gate.'

‘Are we seeking something?'

They were interrupted by the arrival of Ruby and Alisha.

‘It would be nice if you tried not to vandalise the stalls,' Alisha was saying. ‘I'm sure the shop owners would appreciate it.'

Ruby turned to Gerald in exasperation. ‘I bumped into a stack of tablecloths and they fell into a puddle,' she said. ‘It was an accident. These alleyways are so tight. I offered to pay for the dirty ones.'

‘Don't worry,' Alisha said. ‘I sorted it. I explained you were English and couldn't possibly help it. The shopkeeper more than understood.'

Ruby's lips showed white. Gerald thought she was about to explode. ‘Excuse us a second, will you?' he said to Alisha and Sam. He pulled Ruby across to a stall piled high with cotton shirts.

‘That's okay,' Sam beamed after them. ‘Take your time.'

Gerald tried to mollify Ruby. He failed dismally.

‘Tell me,' she ranted. ‘What have I done? What have I done to make her treat me like this?'

‘Let's see. There was the bit about her being bland, boring, and opinionated…' Gerald started.

‘Okay—'

‘And then you said she had massive flaws in her personality…'

‘Well, I think I actually said ‘holes' not ‘flaws' but—'

Gerald counted off on his fingers, ‘Conceited, spoilt…'

Ruby held up her hands. ‘All right. I admit I was a bit harsh,' she said.

‘A bit?'

‘All I'm saying is I knew she was going to be awful to me.'

‘So you got a few shots in first? You two need to sort it out or this holiday is going to be a nightmare for all of us. Okay?'

Ruby mumbled something under her breath and scrunched the toe of her shoe in the dirt.

‘You thirsty?' Gerald asked.

Ruby gave a sullen nod. They found a stand selling bottles of water and soft drinks. Gerald reached into his shirt pocket for some money and a quizzical look appeared on his face. He pulled out a piece of cardboard—dog-eared and worn—about the size of a credit card.

‘What's that?' Ruby asked.

‘The fortune-teller must have slipped it into my pocket.' He waved off Ruby's questions and held the card under a lantern.

‘It's a picture of some tower,' Gerald said. He flipped the card over. And let out a loud gasp. ‘Holy cow!'

On the back of the card, scratched in black ink, was a rough drawing of the familiar three forearms, forming a triangle around a blazing sun. Ruby snatched the card.

‘Your family seal. What's some fortune-teller doing with that?'

Gerald took the card and stared at it. ‘Can I talk to you about something?'

Ruby was still in a deep sulk about Alisha. ‘I guess so. What is it?'

Gerald took a deep breath. ‘I've been having dreams—Sir Mason Green dreams.'

‘I thought you were going to stop worrying about him.'

‘I know. But the dreams keep coming back. He spoke about the other two caskets. About how he's going to get them. And if he finds them first, there's going to be three tragedies.'

‘Gerald, listen to me.'

‘And the thin man has somehow survived and now this fortune-teller guy says something about someone trying to stop my quest—'

Ruby took hold of Gerald by the shoulders and shook hard. ‘Gerald! Sir Mason Green is half a continent away. You don't have to keep on about him.'

Gerald stood silent. He blinked at Ruby.

‘It's all just coincidence, okay?' she said. ‘You've got to stop obsessing.'

Sam sauntered over. He looked like he'd been rolling in catnip.

‘What's going on?' he asked. ‘Alisha's bored.'

Ruby switched her frustration. ‘And as for you,' she said. ‘Come back to the land of reality. She doesn't even like you!'

The sky was now dark and the market flickered with lanterns and shadows. Gerald was buffeted as a surge of people elbowed past them—a man in dark clothes bumped hard into his shoulder—but his mind was on the card from the fortune-teller. Surely that couldn't have been a chance meeting. He was dragged from his thoughts by Sam.

‘Has anyone seen Alisha?'

Gerald looked up but all he could see was a mass of bodies squeezing and rolling through the tight confines of the market. Then, about twenty metres away on his right, he spotted her. Alisha was chatting to a storekeeper and stuffing something she'd bought into her bag. She lifted her head and turned towards Gerald. A broad smile burst across her face and she waved.

Gerald grinned back. He could understand Sam's infatuation.

Then a figure clothed entirely in black emerged from the sea of people. In a second, Alisha was grabbed by the upper arm. There was a brief struggle. Then she disappeared.