The Lost Fragrance Read online

  ‘I felt a presence,’ she said, ‘as you spoke to me when the flowers were in my hand. It was as if you were controlling my mind.’

  ‘Ah,’ chuckled The Master, ‘we’ll talk about that too. Just a little trick I learnt. Comes in handy now and then.’ He gave her a smile. ‘Do you miss the old balloon-maker and his wife?’ he asked her.

  ‘Did you know them?’ Little Girl asked excitedly.

  ‘I came to them,’ he said, ‘in their dream. I needed to find good human beings,’ he sighed, ‘and they are so rare these days.’

  He stopped and turned to look at her. ‘What will you do, child, when you meet your uncle?’

  ‘I will kill him,’ she replied without hesitation.

  ‘That is good,’ he said. ‘But, can you destroy him?’ he asked.

  She looked puzzled.

  ‘To utterly and truly destroy him, you must recall something your father once taught you.’

  ‘Can you not tell me what it is that I must look for?’ asked Little Girl in anguish. ‘He taught me so much!’

  ‘That child,’ replied The Master, ‘is the mystery. Something you must solve yourself, but if you think hard enough, you will remember what your father had once told you.’

  In the castle atop the hill, The Serpent looked at the images on his magic window. ‘The old man is a fool. He talks too much,’ he hissed as he nervously fidgeted with the beads of his bracelet, ‘the girl will never remember when I come to her!’

  Twenty-nine

  When the shadow had called out to The Serpent’s consorts, his hiss had travelled to every part of the earth and all the consorts heard the call.

  In physical appearance, the consorts had many things in common. They all had shifty eyes that constantly darted about, never once focussing on any one thing in particular. They were all siblings, in fact, they were interchangeable siblings because ever so easily, they could become each other and take on different characteristics, and become that much more sinister. All of them were highly addictive and much loved. Once you tasted them, it was difficult to let them go.

  ‘We like to be one big family!’ they would say, ‘get into your blood stream like genetics and become your DNA. Once in, we simply hang around and incubate. Such fun!’

  There were the twins, for instance, who always worked together. They were quite unalike in appearance, though not in behaviour. One was bald with a puffed up face and laboured breathing and had a strange habit of twirling pudgy fingers around the ample hair on his chest. At the drop of a hat, he insisted on shaking hands with everybody. It was easy to remember him because anyone he shook hands with, ended up trying to wipe the sweat away. Somehow, the sensation lingered and neither wiping nor washing helped. Everything about him was slimy.

  He had a great talent, however. He always got people to do things that they would never have dreamt of doing. Quite matter-of-fact, his tone was, when he spoke. But he got people to do things that could get them into trouble. Really serious trouble. And yet many listened and did as they were told. And lived long and happy in big houses.

  The other twin was disproportionately built. Tall and thin, with very short legs, his weasel face looked odd, for he smiled continuously, flashing yellow teeth while his tongue slithered over his cracked and scaly lips with serpentine ease. From his hair would drip sickly sweet-smelling oil. He would constantly adjust his hair with his carefully manicured hands. His voice was silky smooth, and his mannerisms disgustingly sleazy. He looked and behaved like a walking lubricant.

  But he had his uses. He was obsequious to a fault and it was addictive. People got so used to him that they couldn’t live without him. He was so indispensable that a time came when nobody would do anything without him. From that day onwards, he demanded his reward. It began with a bit of this and a bit of that, till finally, he controlled it all.

  ‘True power,’ the twins would say, ‘is the ability to get people to do what they wish they had never done, but would do nevertheless, while wishing that they could do otherwise!’

  The twins were only two of The Serpent’s many consorts. They fed on human greed and want, on cruelty and selfishness, on anger and betrayal.

  Human beings have always been strange. There are those who have everything and yet, are never satisfied. Envy and jealousy are then easy to roll into one. Lips can then be made to curl constantly upwards in a sneer, while rage is not far behind.

  Each of these was linked by the common cause of The Serpent who, through his consorts, was always around, always searching, always scheming.

  The consorts were masters of the dark arts. They stood for everything evil and sinister and vicious. They corrupted and debased with their touch. They were the betrayers of the soul and the purveyors of bad things to come. They were the polluted and the unclean. And, they never stopped to rest.

  They all had a bit of the snake in them. Put together, they made up The Serpent. But they lacked his sinister brilliance.

  ‘The whole, my children,’ The Serpent would often say, ‘is never the sum of its parts. It is always something more.’

  The consorts would always clap at his wise statement, for they worshipped him. He could never be wrong.

  And The Serpent loved them all, for he had created them out of his imagination and had taught them well. They had been quick to learn and quick to deliver.

  As a result, today The Serpent had his followers all over the world.

  When the summons were received, it was an unwritten code that the consorts would drop everything and return to the castle.

  ‘It must be important,’ one of them said, ‘it has been a while since he last summoned all of us together. Let us hope it is that silly girl. Finish her off, is what I say. Then we can all lead our lives.’

  And as they flew through the skies, they sang,

  We’ve never cared to mope around,

  Or complain that life’s been unfair,

  Looking around, we’ve happily found,

  How blessed we are in The Serpent’s care!

  Amazed at how wonderful life could be,

  If we abandoned our souls for a simple fee,

  We knelt before the sacred beads,

  And swore to uphold The Serpent’s needs!

  Standing by the window of his castle, the hooded figure wondered how difficult the battle would be. ‘The girl has spunk,’ he said to himself, ‘but is spunk enough? And yet, yet...it is the innocence of a child that could prove to be the game changer.’

  Thirty

  Crow stretched, or at least he tried to. He propped his head under a winged arm and looked this way and that for his feet. Unfortunately, for him, no matter which angle he chose, his stomach got in the way! It was now very large and quite unmanageable because of the enormous quantities of food he was eating.

  Sighing in contentment, Crow burped, cleared his throat and hummed tunelessly,

  O me gosh!

  Wonder where it be?

  My cutie, cutie,

  Footsies!

  ‘Such inspiring thoughts,’ Balloon said wryly.

  Crow smiled as he yawned and lazily snapped his toes summoning Magic. Bowing deeply, as was customary with him, Magic appeared in an instant.

  ‘You good man,’ drawled Crow, smacking his beak. ‘Excellent breakfast. Loved the roasted chicken and mushroom sauce. A whiff of blue cheese, eh?’ Crow enquired knowledgeably, raising his left eyebrow as he looked at Magic.

  Magic turned pink around the collar with pleasure. He cleared his throat and was about to explain intricate details of the background and history of the recipe, something chefs share only with the knowledgeable, but Crow couldn’t be bothered. ‘What’s for lunch, I say?’ he demanded with a burp.

  Magic’s face lit up and with a great, big beaming smile, he stuck his hand into his pocket whipping out a list of possibilities.

  ‘I have no idea about all that,’ said Crow dismissively, as he rubbed his hand on his ample stomach and watched it obligingly flop this
way and that. ‘Looks a bit wobbly, what?’ he asked Balloon, as he thoughtfully inspected himself.

  ‘That’s disgusting!’ retorted Balloon. ‘Now you’ll never be able to fly!’

  ‘Fly?’ enquired Crow, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘I believe flying is a way of dealing with weight. It’s plainly visible that you’ve now got more weight than you can possibly handle.’ Balloon smiled sweetly, batting her long eyelashes coquettishly.

  ‘Well, turtle soup should settle things,’ Crow sighed and said. Turning towards Magic, he added, ‘With a touch of celery and a generous squeeze of lemon juice, dear boy.’

  ‘Really, Crow!’ exclaimed Balloon in consternation. ‘Turtle soup! How can you even suggest such a thing?’

  Crow mulled over the thought. ‘Don’t see what the problem is but since you seem to be making such an issue of it, guess I’ll settle for garlic bread and snake stew.’

  Magic froze. He moved one hand with lightning speed, clamping Crow’s beak tight. His eyes furtively darted this way and that before focussing on the open window. His body shook as he wiped his sweating brow on his immaculate sleeve, and then he placed a quivering finger to his lips. ‘Never,’ he whispered hoarsely to Crow, ‘must Your Lordship ever mention that disgusting word.’ He couldn’t go on and spluttered. ‘Bad luck it is bringing!’ he said, summing up his sentiments. He shuddered uncontrollably, as if countless snakes had slithered up and down his spine.

  Magic furtively pointed out of the window to the castle on the hill. Flakes of grey cloud swirled around the castle. Its silhouette was a blurred eerie outline in the dim morning mist.

  ‘Home it is of The Serpent,’ he croaked, ‘and you are wanting his stew!’ He turned his eyes heavenwards in disgust and then seemed to remember his mother, for he reverentially blew a dozen kisses somewhere towards the sky and asked for her blessings.

  Crow determinedly crossed his arms. ‘Sorry, old chap!’ he said, ‘I want snake stew and I want it double quick.’

  Magic was sweating profusely. ‘Ask of me anything else,’ he pleaded, ‘but this, I beg of you, please ask not!’

  ‘If there’s a problem with snake, there’s a problem with snake,’ interjected Balloon wisely, ‘and in any case, it is such an ugh sort of thing to ask for.’

  But Crow was insistent. ‘Read my lips, dear boy,’ said Crow to Magic, as he exaggeratedly mouthed the words ‘snake stew’.

  ‘Sorry, no one can do this!’ said Magic with a tone of finality and looking extremely miffed at the entire conversation. ‘The recipe, it is not in the Great Recipe Book.’ He twitched his moustache defiantly and realised that it depended very much on how things proceeded because he could very well lose his job as the head chef and then, who knows what might happen.

  The little boy had entered the room and had been listening to the conversation for sometime now. He looked out of the window at the castle and said, ‘If you want snake stew, I dare say Magic would be happy to learn a recipe or two. Can’t imagine it being particularly difficult.’

  There was silence in the room.

  Crow scratched his chin quietly and looked out of the window at the castle.

  Magic dropped his jaw and stared with great surprise at the little boy and then at Crow and Balloon.

  The little boy smiled broadly at Magic and said, ‘Maybe you really ought to get hold of some snake recipes, so that you can prepare a meal for our honoured guests.’ He paused and let the words sink in. Then he added for Magic’s benefit, ‘The Awaited One is with The Master. And, these are her friends.’

  Magic’s eyes popped. His moustache suddenly seemed to have acquired a life of its own, for it briskly sprang to attention and stood on either side of his cheeks like two lightning conductors. He promptly planted slobbering kisses on Crow’s feet and on Balloon and then floated out of the window, feet first, with the expression of someone who had just seen, not one but three, living saints. He wondered why he had not seen all of this earlier, as there was something perfectly saintly about the three of them. ‘Growing old, losing my touch,’ he decided, with a sniff.

  Magic floated towards his bookshelf and looked at the titles. ‘Should be under “S”, under “S”, under “S”,’ he said, as his fingers scrolled the titles of cookbooks that were all neatly arranged alphabetically. ‘Ah! found it!’ he exclaimed and pulled out a large leather-bound tome titled Gourmet’s Guide to One Hundred and One Snake Recipes for Special Occasions. There was satisfaction on his face as he settled down to look at the recipes.

  ‘It’s falling into place,’ the little boy said. ‘The battle is about to begin.’

  Balloon looked at the little boy, wondering about what he had just said. Crow silently played peek-a-boo with his toes.

  Thirty-one

  A deep stench filled the castle as the consorts huddled together casting furtive glances at their master, who stood silently beside the magic window staring at a little girl, who lay fast asleep, clutching a bunch of the cursed jasmine flowers.

  All around, the shadows played their sinister dance, as the intermittent light of a million glow-worms lit the castle rooms.

  The silence seemed eternal and hissed as it echoed on the walls.

  Their master turned towards the shadows. ‘What say you?’ he asked, pointing at the image on the magic window.

  ‘What is so special about this girl?’ asked one of the consorts, ‘and why can she not be condemned to a life in limbo like the others in the village?’

  A nervous titter filled the room.

  ‘Because of a longing and a hate,’ said their master, ‘that is so deep that it now drives me mad.’

  He stood by the window, which had turned to its normal form with his touch. He watched the village below. His face could barely be seen under the hood.

  A sudden chill filled the dark room. The stench was deep and overpowering, but it did not bother anyone in that room.

  He told his story, pacing the floor like a caged animal. ‘No two could have been more different than my brother and I. He was always dad’s favourite and I…I remained the outcast.’ He seemed to sob, for he drew his cloak closer to cover his face. ‘My brother,’ he said, in a choked whisper, ‘did the good things. It came effortlessly to him. And I, I drifted along the bad, bad road. If he gave life, I took it. If he brought smiles, I brought grief. If he taught joy, I hailed disenchantment. Like chalk and cheese, the villagers used to say.

  ‘Our worlds could not have been more different, especially after I discovered the night and the darkness.’

  Taking a sip from a smoke-filled decanter, he looked around and said, ‘One day, my father died through some providential intervention. It was always foretold that his passing would be miserable. And so, when it happened, the world trembled, as indeed did the sky and the stars.

  ‘He had taken off his bracelet of sacred beads and left it beside his flute. He had once said, it was the key to eternal life. When he took it off, it must have been because he wanted to die, or perhaps it was to test how evil I had become. He called me and asked me to give the bracelet to my brother, whom he considered his rightful heir. I asked him why it could not be me. He looked at me with a calm expression and said that I was not ready then. I spat at him and clutched the beads in my hands, and then I wore them, knowing that I was choking away his life breath.

  ‘His dying words were that the sacred beads were not mine, and that they would be taken from me. Well, he’s dead and the dead tell no tales! The sacred beads are mine and I can no longer be harmed!’

  He kissed the beads and held them up to the flickering light.

  ‘Do you know the magic of these beads?’ he asked, looking away into the distance. ‘Before my father died, he dipped them in the sacred river. Now, he who wears them is blessed with eternal life. To lose it would mean death. And, so they remain bonded to my body. Stuck as it were to my hand. While they remain with me, I can never die!’

  He walked towards his consorts and bent down to sh
ow them the beads around his wrist. ‘Look at it, all ye who serve me, for it is what legends are made of ! These blessed beads helped me kill my own brother!’

  His eyes narrowed into slits as he gazed at his consorts. His cloak slid off his shoulders, as if it should never have been there. His body shrank. From his head, two serpent heads appeared to grow. Scales appeared on his body. Slowly, ever so slowly, he began to coil himself on to the floor, hissing as he showed his double head and his fangs. A terrifying apparition sat swaying from side to side. Their master had become The Serpent.

  ‘Let us, then, teach these villagers a lesson,’ the consorts clapped nervously and said in unison, ‘let us buy off this girl just as we have all the other villagers.’

  ‘You mean, with fear?’ said another.

  ‘Greed or envy will not work with the child,’ said another consort.

  ‘Nor indeed rage or cruelty,’ suggested another.

  ‘Perhaps loss might help,’ whispered one of them.

  ‘Yes,’ said The Serpent, ‘loss. Loss will work. Combine it with envy and jealousy. With craving and with longing! Loss is the key and the silly flute player holds it in his hand!’

  The Serpent snapped his fingers and the stench of dark forces filled the room. ‘The flute player’s music talks to the gods,’ he said. ‘While most of the others we have dealt with succumb, this girl will not be easy. But then, my children, as I have taught you, everyone succumbs. Some soon, while others take a little longer. Greed is a universal weakness.’

  The Serpent hissed as he played with the beads around his wrist. ‘The flute player’s strength lies in his music. Break his music and you have broken his soul.

  ‘Summons will be issued to our friends in the sky. Distort the flute player’s music with the music of the dark, so that you might break the bonding between him and the child. But beware the innocence of the child, for she is as yet untouched by evil. Plant the seed of impurity and our job will be half done!’ The consorts nodded and vanished into the clouds to prepare for battle.