Page 18 of Tiger's Voyage
“Yes. Yes. Phet talk tigers.”
After the dinner dishes were cleaned, I laughed softly as I saw Phet waggle his finger in Kishan’s face and point sternly at the door. Ren shot a grin over his shoulder at me, and the two men followed Phet outside, closing the door quietly behind them. Hearing Phet direct them to take over the weeding made me smile.
Kishan had been kind enough to fill the bucket dozens of times at Phet’s kitchen pump so I would have a full bath. I shrugged out of my dirty clothes and asked the Divine Scarf for new ones as I slipped into the tub. Scrubbing my skin with a bar of Phet’s homemade lilac soap, I listened to him chastise the brothers as I soaped through my hair.
He was gruff with them. It sounded like he was giving them a stern lecture. Frustrated, he said, “You must takecarefragile flower! Delicate and fine petals damage easy, bruise. Spoil it and harm it. Garden is no mischief! Rough handling, battle for flower destroy it. Cut the stem, the flower dies. Needs flourish be radiant for admire. Love is look, no pluck. Endeavor gather before harvest ready is waste energy, lost everything. Remember.”
I tuned him out and enjoyed my bath, thinking that scented water beat a buttermilk bath any day. Then I remembered Kishan’s milk-bath comment, which made me blush furiously.
Phet’s voice carried through the walls again.He sure is raking theguys over the coals about his flowers. Funny, I didn’t notice any flowers, I thought and sank lower into the tub.
After my thorough soak, I had the Scarf make me a couple of soft fluffy towels and wrapped one around my wet hair and the other around my body. I stepped out of the tub onto a woven bamboo mat and slipped on a set of comfortable, thin cotton pajamas. The T-shirt said:
I TIGERS
The bottoms had pictures of black and white cartoon tigers snoring peacefully away. I frowned.
I didn’t remember asking the Scarf for tiger pajamas, but my thoughts must have drifted when I was creating them. I asked the Scarf to get rid of the tigers, and the fabric shimmered as the black and white threads changed to baby blue to match the top. I created some blue cashmere socks and slipped my feet inside, sighing happily.
By the time the men came in, I was sitting on the bed with a pillow on my lap reading, my long wet hair in a braid down my back. It was dark, so I’d lit the lamp and wished up a snack from the Golden Fruit. Both Ren and Kishan made eye contact with me briefly, gave me weak smiles, and headed to the table. Their downtrodden expressions made them look like they’d just been chewed out for an hour by their grandfather. I stayed on the bed so Ren wouldn’t be too uncomfortable. Phet bustled in last and hung a straw hat on a peg.
“Ah. Kahl-see. You clean? Feel refreshed and invigorated?”
“Yes. I feel 100 percent better. Thank you. I made you a snack. It’s from Shangri-la.”
He approached the table and sat next to the boys. I had created a tea party of Shangri-la delicacies: honey–cherry-blossom tea, buttery peach fizzy tarts, cinnamon-sugar crumble clusters, mushroom-acorn butter spread between layers of cheesy crisps, delicate berry crepes with sour cream sauce, and blueberry dip with sweet fairy crackers.
Phet rubbed his hands together, delighted, and smacked Kishan away before he could grab the peach tart. The shaman filled his plate, ate the tasty morsels with pleasure, and grinned at me with his funny gap-toothed smile.
“Ah. Phet no go Shangri-la long time. Scrumptious foodstuffs there.”
Kishan asked, “Want some, Kells? Better speak up now.”
“No, thank you. I’m still full from dinner. You’ve been to Shangri-la, Phet?”
“Yes, yes. Many year ago. Many hair ago,” he cackled.
For some reason, I wasn’t surprised. I closed my book and scooted forward on the bed. “So, Phet, you wanted to talk with us? Can you help Ren?”
Ren’s bright blue gaze turned to me. He stared at me thoughtfully while Kishan slowly tore a crepe into pieces. Phet dusted powdered sugar off his hands.
“Phet long time thinking this. Fix maybe or maybe not. Tomorrow best time looking tiger’s eyes.”
“Looking into his eyes? Why do you need to do that?”
“Eye is glass. Not mirror. Inside eye is buzz like a bee. Skin is flesh? Not important.” He grabbed a fistful of his wiry hair. “Hair is nothing.” He smiled at me. “Teeth and tongue? No buzz. Words is no buzz. Only eye is talk.”
I blinked. “Are you trying to say that the eyes are the windows of the soul?”
Phet laughed happily. “Ah! Very good, Kahl-see. Smart garl!”
He slapped the table and pointed at the boys. “I tell you, young mans. My Kahl-see vastly quick.”
I stifled a snigger as Ren and Kishan nodded their heads like chastised schoolboys.
“Okay, so you want to give him a checkup tomorrow,” I continued. “We brought you Durga’s weapons. You asked to see them, right?”
Phet stood up, pushed in his chair, and waved his arms. “No, no. Tomorrow is time for weapon. Tonight is for gifts. Gifts for be-u-ti-full goddess.”
