Page 99 of Tiger's Dream
Sunil rushed into the room in a gangly tangle of teenage limbs and handed his mother a tureen of soup.
“Can you eat by yourself?” she asked. “Sunil can feed you if you need it.”
The boy’s eyes widened and he gulped, but he nodded when I looked at him with the corner of my mouth raised.
“I can feed myself,” I answered. “How’s Ana?” Quickly, I corrected myself. “Anamika, I mean?”
“Her mind still sleeps,” Ana’s mother said. “But I have managed to feed her some.”
“Good.”
“I wish to thank you for bringing her home to us. I feared I would never see her again.”
“She…she’s been through a lot,” I said as I glanced at Sunil.
His mother looked at her son, then at me. After a moment, she nodded stiffly. “Eat. While you do, Sunil will bring you water for your bath and new clothes. See to it, son,” she said as she exited the room.
“Yes, Mother,” Sunil squeaked with his changing voice. He winced at his growing pains, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and began carting up buckets of steaming water, dumping them in a small metal tub just big enough for me to sit in. I savored the delicious soup, fragrant with herbs, full of chunks of meat and hearty vegetables, and peeled off my dirty shirt.
Sunil stayed to scrub my back though I told him it wasn’t necessary. He insisted, saying it was the least he could do after I saved his sister. When I was finished soaping my hair and body, he poured a cold bucket of water over my head and handed me a thin towel to dry off with.
“Thank you,” I said as I wrapped the towel around my hips. “Your mother mentioned something about clothes?”
He scampered off and quickly came back with a thin tunic and a comfortable pajama pant. I pulled on the clothing, tying off the pants, tightening the waist so they’d stay up. He gave me a pair of sandals and a comb for my hair. When I was presentable, I immediately wanted to see Ana, but it was late at night and I heard the lilting hum of a woman softly speaking coming from her room. Instead, I followed Sunil downstairs, where the deep rumble of men’s voices caught my attention.
Immediately upon seeing me, the men’s voices quieted. Ana’s father bade me sit and wasted no time after I did.
“Tell us,” he said simply.
I tugged on my short beard, wondering how much I should tell him. When I considered what I would want to know if it had been my daughter who had been abducted, my decision was made.
“She was sold into slavery,” I said. “I don’t think it was in retaliation for anything against you or your family. There was no talk of that at the compound, and the traders who’d taken her didn’t seem to care who she was or where she came from.”
Anamika’s father swallowed. His mouth was set in a grim line and his eyes were bright. “Then who is responsible for this?” he asked.
“I’m not certain,” I said. “Perhaps a passing trader saw her beauty and knew she’d fetch a good price. Then again, it’s entirely possible that someone with a personal vendetta wanted to harm your family and suggested she be taken. I don’t know which of these is the case, but I promise you, I will find out.”
“There was a trader,” he said slowly. “The man took an interest in Ana and asked if she was already arranged. I did not like how his eyes lingered on my daughter and told him to leave. Perhaps this is the reason.”
“Do you remember his name?”
“No.” He shook his head. “The incident happened too quickly, and I’m afraid I rousted him from my lands before learning more about him.”
“Then, when I am recovered, I will do what I can to discover who he is and where he lays his head.”
“You have done so much already. We are indebted to you, stranger. Please consider our home yours for as long as you like, but as her father, I insist upon taking care of this business myself from now on, as is my right.”
Just then, Ana’s mother came into the room. “If this young man wants to stay and help you find the person responsible, then he stays.”
“We will talk of this later,” her husband said.
“I have said what I said, which means we are done talking. The least you could do is not call him stranger.”
“Has he told me his name that I should use it?”
The man stood and faced his wife, frustration on his face. I sensed their arguing was something common. It reminded me of Anamika. She got her argumentative side from her mother. I sat back and listened to their quibbling with a smile on my face.
“My name is Kishan,” I offered. “Kishan Rajaram.”
