Forever the Road (A Rucksack Universe Fantasy Novel) Read Online Free PDF Page B

fingers raised to the mouth that could serve for “hungry” or “oh great keg in the sky do I need a beer.” But this? This was all Hindi to Jay.
    Hundreds upon hundreds of paraders passed. All of their disparate songs should have been disjointed caterwauling, but they weren’t. The upbeat danced around the slow. Low, mournful notes fell low in Jay’s ear, but songs of celebration leaped over them. Jay picked out harmonies and tunes; they blended, played side by side, built on each other’s pitch and cadence. His hand pressed harder on top of his backpack as he leaned out of the rickshaw to better see the procession.
    Out of the corners of Jay’s eyes, all the multi-armed, multi-colored blurs turned to look at him. Before he could cry out, the tune and the lyrics skipped his ears, stunning him silent as the paraders’ songs sang directly into his mind.
    “Let the love of ages be the love of my heart…”
    “A hot meal and a warm thigh, a hard kiss and a soft sigh…”
    “May my sons be as the sun and my daughters as the earth…”
    “Return the life to the flame and to the Smiling Fire, be the cinders and the burn of the life of the world…”
    Jay sat up, banging his head on the rickshaw’s roof. His hand flung from the pack to the top of his aching head. The song vanished. Out of the corners of his tearing-up eyes, he saw nothing but stalled traffic and shuffling cows.
    The driver turned around at the noise. “Are you okay?”
    “I think so.”
    The driver smiled, looking at Jay’s head and the slightly dented roof. “Not the way one usually sings, my friend, but then, you tourists have strange ways.”
    “I’m not a tourist,” Jay said. “I’m a traveler.”
    The driver bobbed his head side to side. Jay didn’t need to speak Hindi to know that this meant, “Maybe yes, maybe no, maybe maybe. All the same to me.”
    The parade ended, its fading songs mere whispers to the words sung and singed into Jay’s mind. The pain faded only once the street had cleared and they could continue again.
    The driver soon stopped at a nondescript hotel. “Here we are,” he said, getting out and reaching for Jay’s backpack.
    Jay batted away his hand. “This isn’t Everest Base Camp.”
    “No, no, much better, you will like it, my good friend. Much better.”
    Head still throbbing, feet still hurting, and throat a cup of desert sand, Jay felt how tempting it was. He was here. He was so tired. It was so hot.
    But there were no signs of a pub. He recalled what he’d been told: when in Agamuskara, the only place for a traveler to stay was at the Everest Base Camp. Some said it was the best pub and hostel in town. Some said it was the best in India. Everything else was for tourists and tossers—which was he?
    Jay pulled up all the will he had left, along with some money in his pocket. He set the bills on the seat, grabbed his pack, and got out.
    The driver cried out, but Jay ignored him. Then, from behind, an impact made him stagger. Jay couldn’t ignore that he was almost falling.
    One hand on the pavement to keep from smacking the road, Jay looked up. His backpack grew smaller as it bounced down the street, seeming to struggle in the arms of a teenage boy but already far away.
    Jay’s feet protested with pain and fatigue, but his backpack was everything. He began to run.

    T HE HEAVY PACK made Jigme’s arms throb, but he ran faster. The reason for the running had changed, but the running itself had started just as it had for days now. Because of her. Always her.
    “Mum?” Jigme asked.
    Her blank eyes stared.
    He switched back to Hindi. “Amma?” No answer. No response but a raspy breath.
    She lay on the hard pallet in the small, dim, dusty room, her skinny body blazing hotter than the day. If her thin blankets were ever wet now, it was with Jigme’s tears. She didn’t sweat anymore, didn’t cry, didn’t even drool. He missed that now. At least when she’d drool he’d known there was moisture in