Molly Moon's Hypnotic Time Travel Adventure (18 page)

“What happened?” Rocky asked. Petula jumped into Molly’s arms and she hugged her.

“Waqt was performing some weird ceremony. We discovered the old man who
really
owns this place. I tried to help him, but it was no use. What happened to you?”

“Some kitchen workers came over and began talking
to the wagon man. They tipped a load of rubbish onto the cart and told him to drive the whole lot out of the palace. Of course, there was no way I could use my voice on them—I don’t speak their language. We just jumped out without them seeing us.”

“Man, that garbage stank,” said Forest, picking green peelings off his head. “My dreads reek!”

Petula held her nose in the air, reading its smells. Ojas sniffed, too.

“This odor is very good,” he said as if savoring a delicious soup.

“If you like rotten cabbage.”

“No, there is something much lovelier. Can you not smell it? It is elephants!”

In the distance, deep drums were beating solemnly. Molly
felt
that her baby self was now fast asleep, obviously exhausted by her terrifying ordeal, but, oddly enough, she wasn’t getting any memories from her ten-year-old self, or her six-or three-year-old selves about what happened after the ceremony. She wondered why.

“See!” said Ojas, pointing down the dark steps ahead of them. “This is the back entrance to the elephant stables.” Like a hungry person trailing sizzling onions, he set off downward and the others, hearing voices approaching the courtyard, hurried after him.

“Where there are elephants, there is always hope,” said Ojas.

“Where there are elephants, there are always piles of elephant dung,” said Rocky under his breath. As they descended, the heavy, musky elephant smell grew stronger, until finally they were quietly lifting the latch of a wooden door.

Spread out before them was a grand, shady elephant stable, with a cobbled floor and high marble walls that divided the space up into twelve massive elephant stalls, six on either side, with a wide walkway in between. Beneath their feet was straw laid down on worn marble. Molly put Petula down.

“Stay close,” she whispered to her.

Each stall had a stone gatepost crowned with a carved elephant’s head. On each entrance pillar a copper placard had a name written on it.

“Ah, what fine stables!” Ojas sighed admiringly. “My father told me about this place.” He walked down the aisle between the giant compartments. For a moment he looked sad and far away.

Molly looked around the elephant stables. Inside each stall were piles of straw and huge iron hoops set in the floor. There were water troughs at the back and enormous feeding baskets for elephant treats like bananas and mangoes. On the ground were large
swathes of plants, branches of palm trees for the elephants to strip of their leaves and eat. Petula sniffed the ground, fascinated by the strong smells.

Molly glanced anxiously behind them, wondering whether anyone was coming. At the other end of the stable was a half-open door. Dusky light poured in through big, glassless windows.

They walked toward the view. As they did, a snoring sound echoed around the stables. Immediately they dived behind a post.

Molly whistled super softly to Petula and signaled silently to Ojas. She pointed at the wall and put her hands in a “Who do you think that is?” position. Ojas tilted his head as if listening to the tone of the snore.

“Is it a sleeping guard?” Molly whispered.

“I thought you weren’t afraid of guards,” said Ojas, smiling. Then he crept forward and peered around the post into the next stall. He came back with a wide grin on his face and beckoned them with his finger.

In the next cubicle was a magnificent sight—the very large posterior of an elephant. The elephant’s bottom was painted so that it looked as if it were wearing colorful flowery trousers, and, since elephants have very loose skin over their bottoms and hind legs, its baggy, painted trousers looked as though they were slipping off. The elephant’s front shoulder leaned against its
stable wall and its giant back legs were crossed, throwing its hips at a jaunty angle. It wore huge silver bracelets on its ankles. A chain threaded through these hobbled it to the iron hoop on the stable floor. A soft, quilted red pad was slung over its back and on top of this was a
guddha,
or saddle, made of sacking stuffed with straw. On top of this
guddha
was a canopied boxlike carriage—a howdah. The whole contraption was strapped on with rope.

“Her name is Amrit,” said Ojas, reading the plaque.

“And who’s that dude?” asked Forest.

“Doood?”

“That man on the floor.”

“Ah—that ‘doood’ is her mahout, but he sleeps now because he has been drinking too much.”

“You mean he’s drunk?” asked Molly.

“Yes, he is well and truly discombobulated!” agreed Ojas, waggling his head and laughing.

The thin brown man sprawled on the straw beside Amrit the elephant was fast asleep. His mouth hung open, emitting a soggy, guttural snore. A large bluebottle flew into his mouth and actually landed on his teeth before taking off again. Ojas tutted.

“A man like that should not be allowed to take care of a creature as lovely as this.”

“Is his elephant asleep, too?” asked Molly.

As if in answer, the elephant opened her small twinkling eyes, leaned her body squarely onto her four legs, lifted her trunk toward her treat basket, and tossed a banana skin back toward her visitors. It hit Forest on the head.

“Man, what did I do?”

Ojas laughed. Then he approached Amrit and casually slipped along her right-hand side toward her silver-hooped tusks. He made some noises in his throat and gently clicked with his tongue and he patted her gray shoulder.

“Good girl.” She in turn sent the pink speckled tip of her trunk to probe Ojas’s head and face. He touched her headdress. “She was obviously supposed to go out with the other elephants. This mahout here has spoiled her day. Why don’t we take her?”

“Us?”
said Molly.

“Yes, riding her will be ‘easy-peasy,’ as you say.”

“I never say that,” said Rocky. “I say, a cinch.”

“A cinch, then. Amrit means ‘nectar’ in Hindi. Sweet Nectar! I expect that means she is very good-natured. Amrit will be no problem at all for me.”

“Man, that sounds mammoth!” exclaimed Forest, beaming at his own pun. “But will the lady take all of us?”

“Oh yes, this elephant could even take two more
with ease.” With the lithe movements of an expert, Ojas began hopping about in the straw, undoing Amrit’s tethers. “We must follow the other elephants.” He picked up a long stick with a double hook at the end of it. “This is an
ankush.
Don’t worry—it looks alarming, I know, but to an elephant being prodded with this is like you being prodded with a small fork. Sometimes it has to be used more strongly. Elephants can be dangerous if they behave badly, so it’s important to have some form of control over them.”

Molly watched as Ojas peeled the mahout’s uniform turban off his head and put it on his own. The man made comforting
myum myum myum
noises before curling up like a baby and dropping into an even deeper sleep.

“Ojas is right,” she said. “We must follow the other elephants. The elephants wouldn’t be out all decorated like this for anyone else but Waqt. So, if we want to keep on his trail, this is the best way. We’ll be well disguised.”

Ojas took the drunk’s jacket from a hook on the wall.

“I suppose you’re right,” said Rocky.

Ojas began pushing the elephant’s massive chest so she moved backward out of her stall toward a mounting block.
“Peechay, peechay,” he
said, adding, “Besides, what else can you do? You can go forward in time and backward
in time, but at some point, Mollee, you have to get close, very close, to Waqt. You will have to kill him, Mollee. You do realize that?”

Molly went cold. She stood in the straw in the musky-smelling stable and watched as Ojas kept pushing Amrit. She just watched as if he had said nothing. The impact of his words on her was huge.

The idea that the only way of truly sorting out this situation was to
kill
Waqt had only faintly suggested itself to her. And the idea was so horrible that she’d pushed it to the back of her mind. Because she wasn’t a killer. She couldn’t kill. How could she live with herself if she killed? But, perhaps, she thought now, unless she killed, she’d be killed herself.

By the time Molly came out of her daze, Rocky and Forest had mounted Amrit. Molly picked up Petula and climbed up, too. She frowned. A poisonous cocktail of feelings was fizzing away inside her.

Ojas clambered up and sat with his legs behind Amrit’s ears. Behind him, a canopy covered his new friends, who sat, half hidden in the howdah, wrapped in warm royal blankets. For a moment Ojas was quiet. He shut his eyes and prayed to Ganesh, the elephant god, to ask for good luck on their journey. His father’s last words before he died filled his mind.

I’ll always be near, watching over you, Ojas. Always believe in
yourself, and always remember that I’ll love you forever.

Blinking back tears, Ojas made a clicking noise with his tongue.

Finally Amrit, hearing the voice of her new master—
“Agit! Agit!”
—stepped out of the stables.

T
he view was magnificent and far-reaching. As Amrit walked majestically down the slope from the upper courtyard to the lower courtyard Molly could see the tops of soldiers’ heads. She saw a couple of them horsing around, throwing small packets of Holi dye at each other, as if now that Waqt was away they could play. She saw palace staff hurrying about preparing for the night and she could see over the palace walls to the surrounding countryside.

Ojas was in front, the thick gray neck of Amrit beneath him. The elephant’s ears had a lovely tinge of pink to them and were much softer than the other gray parts of her. She flapped them as she walked. Molly touched the gray leathery skin and discovered that it was covered with lots of coarse black hairs.

Flowery incense burned in the palace’s Hindu temple and from inside they could hear the soft chanting of devotees. Amrit passed quietly under the giant arches, built to allow elephants through, and down the next cobbled slope.

Below them was the vast palace lake, its square shape shimmering with dusk light. In the distance they could make out the procession of Waqt’s elephants as they walked along a ridge. Torchbearers carried beacons of fire in front of each elephant, so that the advancing party seemed lit by a giant chain of fairy lights.

Molly could make out that the largest elephant, the third along, carried the most enormous carriage. She expected this was Waqt’s.

“Rocky,” she whispered worriedly, “I’m not getting any memories of riding on an elephant when I was ten or six. Don’t you think that’s odd? That’s the sort of memory that a person keeps forever. Why aren’t I remembering an elephant ride? Maybe Waqt has left the other me’s back at the palace.”

“If he’d done that,” Rocky pointed out, “wouldn’t you remember being left at the palace?” He was quiet for a bit. “I think what’s more likely is that Waqt has blocked your memories so that you don’t know where he is.”

Molly shut her eyes. “You’re probably right.” She sighed, realizing that the problem had just thickened.
And Amrit lumbered quietly on to the main road toward the others.

The journey was a long one. The swaying of Amrit’s body and the chinking of her ankle bracelets as she walked sent Molly to sleep.

She awoke beneath a full moon. She sat up, rubbed her shoulders, and readjusted Petula, who was sitting on her leg.

They were on a tree-lined road, approaching some buildings half hidden by poplars.

“Where are they, Ojas?”

“Don’t worry,” said Ojas, gently prodding Amrit behind the ears with his feet. “You see those fires below? That is where Waqt is. I think he is performing another ceremony. That is Jaipur Observatory. It was built by a very, very clever prince. He wanted to be able to measure the distance of the earth from the sun and the stars. He built another observatory in Delhi. I have seen that one. They are very strange, beautiful places. Once Amrit gets close, you can climb down. You will find some good hiding places in the observatory. What will you do?”

Molly thought. “If I can, I’ll steal Waqt’s crystals. The whole lot. Maybe I’ll get close enough to rescue my other selves.”

“Yes. You will be all right, Mollee. It’s dark and you
are dressed like an Indian girl. Waqt won’t be expecting you. He seems obsessed by his peculiar ceremonies.”

“So you haven’t seen a ceremony like the one with the creepy purple men in it before?” questioned Molly.

Ojas laughed. “No, certainly not!”

“What religion do you think it is?” asked Rocky, stirring.

“A new one? One that Waqt made up? I don’t know, Rocky!” Ojas laughed again. But Molly didn’t find it funny. Who knew what strange beliefs Waqt held?

As Amrit walked on, the observatory gradually came into view. Over the wall they could see huge stone staircases that looked like slides without the slide parts. The tallest had a roof place at the top. Molly could see the other elephants close up now. Each had a mahout with his feet resting up on the elephant’s head while the passengers were gone.

When Rocky stood up on Amrit he could see a group of the purple men standing around a fire, their ghostly faces lit up. Wild drumbeats filled the night air. He sat down.

“I’m not letting you go in there on your own,” he said. Molly smiled and she and Rocky slipped down to the ground.

“We’ll be back as soon as you can say ‘curried purple man.’”

“Sounds tasty,” murmured Forest in his sleep.

“If anything happens to us, Ojas, will you look after Forest and Petula?”

Ojas surveyed the sleeping man and wrinkled his nose. Then his eyes fell on Petula. He nodded.

Molly and Rocky crept through the observatory gate.

Petula watched. She didn’t like them going at all.

To start with, she could smell the giant and the kidnaper man. But there was something more. Something ominous. For behind the strong odor of elephants and a bonfire, behind the innocent smells coming from ordinary people, of spices and baking and flowers, Petula could detect the scent of a very frightened animal. The animal was a goat. Petula didn’t like it one bit.