Ghost Monkey, стр. 47
"Your people are harsh." Dameneh poked the fire, his voice somber.
"All people are harsh. Gentle people are rare."
"True. My people nearly turned on me more than once, fickle and faithless. I’d go away to see the One. He tells me what to do. By the time I return, they curse the One, profaning His name with idols and indecent acts. The world is harsh, but one day He will remake it."
Divyan swooped down and landed in the grass. "We should reach them tomorrow," he said.
Sugriva asked, "Do you want to watch over us? We could visit them alone with you acting as a scout to go back if something happens."
"We face this together." Divyan put a hand on Sugriva's shoulder. "They seem more refugees than army, though they are well-armed. It seems Bahimatt is a place for the broken. A humble purpose for a city lifted up as powerful and amazing."
Dameneh pulled out food and warmed it over the fire. "I don't know much about the city. My people aren't meant to stay long, just long enough. We haven't reached our promised land."
Sugriva said, "But Bahimatt is the promised land. It's a place of wonder and knowledge."
"When we leave, you decide. Stay in the city or come with us. You can follow the One either way, but it is much easier when surrounded by believers."
During dinner, Dameneh told his story of arriving in Bahimatt. Divyan taught Dameneh about their faith, which the boy was very interested in. Then Dameneh went to sleep.
Sugriva poked at the fire idly, watching the sparks as they exploded.
Divyan asked, "Why come back?"
"Prisha."
"Makes more sense than what Humbari thinks. He thinks you wanted your dharma back." Another moment of silence. "But why? Prisha betrays you every time. She treats you like dung."
"I love her. I will always love her. We were destined, just not in this life."
"If you are destined for Prisha, Sugriva, you are destined to suffer. Prisha is not a good woman. You deserve better. At the very least, you deserve the sanity you lost for coming back."
"Did I ever tell you about meeting the Ashtadash?"
"No. I heard rumors and saw glimpses of your power when we defended Jaya. Tell me about it."
Chapter EighteenThe False God
Age of Men 813
Sugriva stopped a little girl who walked by him in the tribe's village center. "I am looking for the spirit Pankatav. Have you heard of her?" The girl's eyes went wide and she hurried into a nearby home.
"Not a great sign," he muttered.
The tribe straddled the Sankive Jungle and savanna, a trade hub between the two worlds. He admired three massive tusks, each with the history of the tribe carved into them. The third neared completion, and then another hunt would take place.
Sugriva accosted several other tribesmen for information between admiring the ivory craftsmanship, but they all hurried on. Then he saw an old man with black skin, darker than the others in the village. He stayed off to the side, with long matted hair and a haphazard beard. He sat on a box, staff in one hand and the other hand outstretched for scraps.
Sugriva sat by the old man. "I can get you food. Can you get me information?"
"You aren't from here." His voice was slow and weak.
"I'm not the only one. Your skin, it's different. Why are you here?"
"That is a very long story that includes a lot of poor choices and a little bit of slavery. But I am free now, and begging is better than working under a whip."
"Fair enough. Want to earn some food?"
"You have my interest." He smacked his lips in anticipation of the meal.
"I'll come back with some food—enough to last you a few days. Then you tell me where to find Pankatav. I hear she lives around here."
He laughed more boisterously than Sugriva assumed the fragile beggar could. "Pankatav is a rat. She is self-serving, but the people here cannot see it, and I cannot shut her up. But if you want to find her, go southeast of here about a day. There will be a tall hill with a small shack on top. It will overlook Lake Dyashka. You can find her there."
"Thank you. I will be back shortly."
"You won't feed me, boy. Pankatav will kill you and use your bones as utensils."
Sugriva left the old man, the words rattling around in the monkey's head. Mulling over the warning, he grabbed what food he could through barter, work, and deceit, then gave it to the old man. The beggar wept with joy.
Then he grabbed Sugriva's arm and said, "I beg you not to go. Young men are Pankatav’s play things. She consumes their souls. She isn't a divine spirit."
The monkey ignored the beggar and took off, stopping briefly in the middle of the night to rest.
The following day he found Lake Dyashka. Lions stalked gazelle in the tall grass. Elephants lazily ate and drank. A hippopotamus, a creature Sugriva had only heard of, tossed a wildebeest to remove it from its mud. Sugriva felt sick as jackals snapped at the dead creature once it bounced on grass. Such a powerful creature, the hippopotamus, yet it did not eat what it killed.
To the west, there was a small shack with skins hung out. A beautiful woman sat on the porch stitching together leather to make clothes and pouches. She had a line of them already finished, with a line of skins and thread waiting to make more. The work did not stop, even when she saw Sugriva in the distance.
"Hello. Are you the Ashtadash Pankatav?"
"Who asks?" She flipped her hair, turning her back on him. Then she looked over her shoulder and grinned. His heart tingled, and he composed himself. She had sapphire eyes, and streaks of blue and purple lightly touched black, curly hair. If she wasn't a spirit, she was at least a water elementalist.
"Sugriva. I'm a monkey janaav. Heal my corruption, please."
She went back to sewing.