Page 99 of Tiger's Curse
We passed into dark shadows between buildings where Fanindra’s golden body gleamed in the darkness. She slipped through tiny cracks beneath unwieldy doors that Ren had to throw his body up against to open. She took us on an interesting obstacle course from a snake’s perspective, going under and through things that were impossible for Ren and me to navigate. She disappeared under cracks in the floor, and Ren had to sniff her out to find her. Often, we had to backtrack and meet her on the other side of walls or rooms. We always found her coiled and resting, patiently waiting for us to catch up.
Eventually, she led us to a rectangular reflecting pool brimming with sea-green algae-filled water. The pool was waist high, and on each corner stood a tall stone pedestal. On top of each pedestal was a carved monkey, each one looking out in the distance, one for each point of the compass.
The statues were crouched down with hands touching the ground. Teeth were bared, and I could visualize them hissing, as if ready to pounce. Their tails curled up over their bodies, fleshy levers to increase the range of their attack. Under the pedestals, groups of evil-looking stone monkeys stared out of the shadows with grimaces and hollowed black eyes. Their long arms were stretched out, as if to grab and claw at whoever passed by.
Stone steps led up to the reflecting pool. We climbed up and peered into the water. With relief, I saw that no Kappa were lurking in the murky depths. At the edge of the pool on the stone border was an inscription.
“Can you read it?” I asked.
“It saysNiyuj Kapior ‘choose the monkey.’”
“Hmm.”
We walked around the four corners examining each statue. One had ears pricked forward and another had ears flat against its head. All four were of different species.
“Ren, Hanuman was half-man, half-monkey, right? What kind of monkey was the monkey half?”
“I don’t know. Mr. Kadam would know. I can tell you that these two statues are not monkeys native to India. This one’s a spider monkey. They come from South America. This one is a chimpanzee, which is technically an ape, not a monkey. They’re often classified as monkeys because of their size.”
I gaped at him. “How do you know so much about monkeys?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Ah, so am I to assume that talking about monkeys is an approved topic of conversation? Perhaps if I were a monkey instead of a tiger you might clue me in as to why you’re avoiding me.”
“I’m not avoiding you. I just need some space. It has nothing to do with your species. It has to do with other things.”
“What other things?”
“Nothing.”
“It’s something.”
“It can’tbeanything.”
“What can’tbeanything?”
“Can we just get back to the monkeys?” I yelled.
“Fine!” he hollered back.
We stood there glaring at each other for a minute, both of us frustrated and angry. He went back to examining the various monkeys and ticking off a list of their traits.
Before I could stop myself, I shot off a sarcastic, “I had no idea that I was walking with a monkey expert, but, then again, you have eaten them right? So I guess that would be the difference between say, pork and chicken, to someone like me.”
Ren scowled at me. “I lived in zoos and circuses for centuries, remember? And I don’t . . . eat . . . monkeys!”
“Hmm.” I crossed my arms over my chest and glared back at him. He threw me a look and then stomped over and crouched in front of another statue.
Irritated, he spat out, “That one’s a macaque, which is native to India, and this hairy one is a baboon, also found here.”
“So which one do I pick? It has to be one of the last two. The other two monkeys aren’t from around here, so I’d guess one of these is right.”
He ignored me, probably still offended, and he was looking at the monkey clusters under the pedestal when I declared, “Baboon.”
He stood up. “Why choose him?”
“His face reminds me of the statue of Hanuman.”
“Okay, so give it a try.”
