[story] the wanderer

[ib_archive]

author: xahra99 (xahra99)
email: xahra99 [at] yahoo.com



The card was badly crumpled. Its envelope bore a dozen forwarding addresses, scrawled in biro or red felt-tip or lead pencil. A smeared picture on its cover could have been a mountain, or a desert, or even a bunch of flowers.

Dear Ryan,

Happy birthday.

We hope this finds you well. Actually, we hope it finds you. You will be enjoying yourself no doubt wherever you are. Your father says that he has given up all hope of you finding an honest job but he is sure you must be making some money as we have not seen you now for nearly two years. He is joking, I think.

You sister thinks that perhaps you have had an alcoholic blackout and have forgotten where you live. She wishes you a happy birthday too and says that she would send a gift. However, as you appear to have forgotten her eighteenth birthday, she decided not to. She says she hates you. I assume this will pass in time.

I hope that you are keeping clean and that you find time to write soon.

Love, Mum, Dad and Keri.

It was a miracle that the card had even arrived - a miracle that Ryan could have done without.

"Lucky it got here," Suzy said brightly.

Ryan glanced at the postmark. "It's last birthday's card."

"Oh," she said, "Harsh."

Ryan tucked the card back into its envelope.. A gentle breeze tugged at his hair and rocked the long tail boats anchored in the bay. Fruit bats circled in the darkening sky. It was just another summer evening on Thailand's Rai Leh beach.

Ryan shaded his eyes with one hand and squinted up at the bats. He slid his free arm around Suzy's shoulders. She passed him a green coconut. Ryan took a long drink. It tasted cool and delicious.

Suzy held up her own coconut in a salute, "Happy birthday."

Ryan smiled at her. "Thanks, sweetheart."

"So which is it?"

The blunt question took Ryan by surprise. He searched for anything other than curiosity in those round green eyes. Maybe he misunderstood?

Suzy giggled. "Come on," she said. "You can't be having a quarter-life crisis here." She gestured around at the beach, the coconuts and the sunset. "This is where people come to get away from all that shit. So how old are you?"

He forced a laugh, "Old enough not to have to answer that question."

"Come on."

"Twenty-seven," Ryan lied.

"Happy twenty-seventh birthday," she said, and snuggled back against his side. "Cheer up. This is fabulous. I'm so glad we found this place," Her smile widened. "I'm so glad I found you."

Ryan matched her grin. "Me too," he said sincerely. Suzy was gorgeous, with a perfect body and cropped blond hair. It was her first time in Thailand.

"How'd you find it?"

Ryan smiled back. "It's a gift," he teased. "I always find great places."

"Some gift. It sure beats work."

"Sure does."

"I never want to give this up," She yawned. "It's beautiful. I think I love travelling"

"Me too," Ryan agreed. He pulled Suzy closer, her head soft and heavy on his shoulder. The last streaks of color faded from the sky. Suzy raised her coconut to her lips. She sucked at the straw, shook the coconut, and frowned.

Ryan brushed her shoulder. "Need another drink?"

Suzy smiled at him and fumbled in her sarong for change. "That would be fantastic."

"No problem." Ryan collected the empty coconuts from the sand. He refused her offer of a crumpled hundred-baht note. "Not necessary. I know the bartender."

Suzy shook her head in admiration. "You know everyone. Are you sure you haven't been here before?"

"First time," Ryan said, "Outside Bangkok, anyway. Scout's honor."

"Come back soon." Suzy replaced the money in her wallet. "It's nearly time for bed."

Ryan had to try very hard to keep a triumphant grin from his face. "Hold that thought," he said. "I'll be right back."

He glanced back at her graceful silhouette as he trudged towards the bar. His feet sank into the soft sand. Suzy waved and Ryan waved back at her.

"Ow!" A tiny girl snapped at him.

Ryan realized at he'd almost fallen over her. "Hi, Sorry to have bothered you. I'm Ryan." He held out a hand.

She frowned up at him from her cross-legged position on the sand. She was leaning against a wicker basket. Ryan apologized again, in Thai this time. No response. He tried German, Norwegian and Russian, and then bad Dutch. The girl just stared at him. Finally Ryan reached over her head and dropped the empty coconuts into the basket. He shrugged, apologized again in English and walked off towards the bar.

Abi watched Ryan leave.

Even in the dim light, he had a careless glow about him. He wore the scruffy uniform of a traveler; bare chest and baggy khaki shorts, with bracelets of green and saffron wool around his wrists. His hair was twisted into dreadlocks and narrow wire-framed spectacles masked the fine lines around his eyes. Tribal tattoos decorated his ankles.

She waited until he reached the bar before she reached into the bin to retrieve the coconuts. The first one held a candy-striped straw. Abi pushed it aside and reached for the second coconut with its scarlet straw. She snagged the straw and added it to her cache; a scrap of thread from Ryan's bracelet, a plastic buckle from his rucksack and a tiny elastic band with a few strands of dark brown hair caught in it. She hoped that they would be enough.

Abi arranged the scraps into a pile. She drew a compass from her skirt, placed it on the palm of her hand and frowned at the quartz-tipped needle as it spun.

Let this be the one.

She sighed in relief as the needle spun, paused, and pointed to Ryan. It followed him as he collected a couple of drinks from the bar and headed back to his girlfriend. Abi watched it for a moment. Magnetic east to west, she thought. Perfect. She snapped the compass closed and slipped it into the pocket of her skirt.

Abi's hands trembled in anticipation as she prepared the small bundle. She folded the straw into a small bundle, wrapped the elastic band around the straw and the buckle and tied the whole thing together with the thread. When it was finished to her satisfaction Abi kindled a small driftwood fire. As soon as the blaze caught, she whispered a few words under her breath and dropped the packet into the flames.

It burned quickly, far faster than its ingredients would suggest. A foul-smelling emerald smoke drifted from the blaze.

Abi bent over the fire. She tucked her hair behind her ears and gulped the smoke greedily. It hit her sinuses in a blast of ozone. She inhaled until she thought her lungs would burst. Her eyes smarted as she opened them. The parcel was gone.

Abi looked guiltily down the beach as she scooped sand over the fire. Nobody had noticed. Ryan shared a drink with his blond girlfriend, their blond and dark heads bent together over the glass. Abi doubted that he would miss what she had taken. She sighed and stretched her arms above her head, replete with stolen magic.

Perfect.

Ryan fished surreptitiously for the condoms hidden in the back pocket of his shorts. His fingers caught in cotton for a second before they encountered cellophane. He smiled as he withdrew his hand and placed it upon Suzy's hip. His fingers slid downwards over the curve of her ass. Her arms twined around his neck.

Ryan had persuaded the bartender to pour him two free cocktails as a birthday present. The drinks had been received with enthusiasm by Suzy, as had the gentle yet suggestive kiss he'd offered as a chaser. Suzy smiled at him. "Wanna come to my room?"

Ten minutes later, they were in Suzy's room, and she was naked.

Ryan had had a lot of practice, and he knew how things were supposed to go. He stifled a moan as Suzy slid a hand down the front of his shorts without bothering to undo the zipper. Her hand stroked rhythmically, paused, slowed, and stopped. She frowned.

Ryan opened his eyes. "What's the matter?"He looked down at Suzy's hand and back up at her face. "What?"

Suzy ignored him. She withdrew her hand from his shorts, briskly unbuttoned his fly and slid his shorts down to mid-hip. They both stared at what was revealed. Ryan yanked his shorts up. Suzy slid from the bed and grabbed her clothes.

Ryan opened his mouth and realized as he did so that nothing he could possibly say would save the situation. "I..."

Suzy threw a pillow at him. "You're a lying bastard! Did you think I wouldn't notice?" She glared at Ryan. "Did you?"

Ryan held up his hands. "Samantha!" he began, and realized he'd made another mistake.

"My name's not Samantha!"

"Suzy." Ryan said desperately. "Suzy! I didn't know!"

"You're a fucking liar!" she screamed. "To think I nearly slept with you!"

Ryan jumped off the bed. He intended to impose himself between Suzy and the door. Maybe it would give him enough time for him to explain himself. The sudden movement sparked an avalanche of pain in his groin. Ryan doubled over. When he looked up, she was gone.

On impulse, he unzipped his shorts and stared down at his penis. It lay on his thigh like a sleeping seahorse, splotched with unfamiliar pink blotches and leaking a toxic green discharge. He gritted his teeth and poked it. It hurt.

The clap, he thought as he buttoned his shorts. It must be the clap.

Christ.

He looked around for Suzy as he left the cabin, but she was nowhere to be seen. He stumbled over the boardwalk as he headed for his own hut. His groin ached. Things like this just don't happen to me, he thought. Especially not on my birthday.

Ryan levered his cabin door open and fumbled for the light switch. The bare bulb flickered into life. He stepped across the threshold and froze in his tracks.

The room was already occupied.

Four large, unshaven men slumped around the cabin. One occupied Ryan's bed, the others slept, half-clothed, on the floor. Ryan's rucksack had been abandoned in a corner. He stepped into the cabin to retrieve it, and his foot clinked against an empty vodka bottle.

One of the men rolled over. He stared at Ryan in bleary incomprehension. "Was ist das?"

Ryan opened his mouth to reply. With a sudden rush of hopelessness, he realized that he had forgotten all his German. Sweat slicked his face as he desperately searched for words. Finally, he gave up, leaned over the man to pick up his bag and closed the door quietly behind him as he left.

The first boat left Rai Leh for Krabi at seven. Ryan was at the jetty at six, sweaty, grumpy and blotched with mosquito bites from his uncomfortable night on the beach. The ache in his groin had intensified. Hunched over in the stern, he narrowly escaped being pushed into the water by the enormous rucksacks of four Australian girls. The Australians sat at the prow of the boat and darted evil glances at Ryan when they thought he was not looking. Clearly Suzy's story had spread.

Ryan glanced down at his groin and winced.

He crouched atop his rucksack and tried not to vomit. Depression wrapped him tightly like a pair of faded jeans. It felt as if he'd lost something that he hadn't even realized he had. The sunlight was as brilliant and the boats as colorful as they had been the day before, but all Ryan's interest had faded. The sea was choppy and rough. The sun was too hot. Their destination, the tiny port of Krabi, seemed tacky and boring. No mystery or magic remained. Ryan dreaded the taxi ride to the nearest station. His brain refused to contemplate the jolts and bounces of the ten-hour sleeper journey that would take him to the city.

Bangkok, he thought. It'll all be better when I get to Bangkok.

Abi hardly recognized the scruffy man hunched across the aisle of the train. He looked as if he had aged five years since their brief encounter on Rai Leh beach. His skin was pale and unhealthy.

Ryan?

Abi avoided his eyes. She wrestled with guilt as she perused her guidebook. Did her spell do this to him?

It was certainly possible. She'd never used it before. Maybe it was natural. Maybe it would fade. She hoped it would. The journey would be difficult enough without twelve hours of forced contemplation of the consequences of her actions.

Ryan made no attempt to talk to her. She read her book until the early evening, when the attendants came around to convert the seats into beds and apply starched white sheets. They ousted Ryan first. He hovered at Abi's shoulder as the men folded and smoothed, as if he was too embarrassed to take the empty seat beside her.

Abi turned a page in her book. "Have a seat," she offered.

Ryan sat without any sign of recognition. An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Abi read another page of her guidebook. Her attention slid from the words, and after she had finished it she could not remember what had happened. Annoyed, she closed the book. "What's your name?"

He pushed his narrow-framed spectacles up his nose. The glasses gave him a scholarly air at odds with the scruffy deadlocks. "Ryan," he said uncertainly. "Ryan Meloy."

"Abi Meijer. Pleased to meet you," Abi lied.

"German?" Ryan asked her. A spark of interest lit his eyes, but it quickly faded.

She shrugged. "Dutch born, but I'm a wanderer. And you?"

Ryan ignored her. "I used to know Dutch," he said. He sounded confused and not quite sane.

Abi fought another pang of guilt. "What happened?" she asked, against all her better instincts.

He shrugged. "I forgot."

The bewildered look in his eyes concerned Abi. She avoided his glance and turned back to her book, leafing through the pages to search for a more interesting section. She could smell Ryan from her seat. He smelt musty, like old clothes that had been washed poorly and put away wet. When the attendants had finished, he stumbled back to his bunk without a word. Abi let him go.

She read until it was time for bed. The train was due in at seven, but Abi knew that it would arrive early. The journey to Rai Leh had been hell, but now all her troubles were over. Ryan's magic was strong.

She looked over at Ryan. He stared forlornly out of the round window as if he was searching for guidance in the stars. A group of other tourists partied noisily at the other end of the coach, but he made no move to join them.

Abi turned away from him and burrowed into the sheets. She slept well.

The ticket inspector woke her just before the train arrived in Bangkok. She fought her way out of the crumpled linen and thanked God that she had slept fully clothed. As she handed her tickets to be stamped, she noticed that Ryan was still in the seat across from her. He sat cross-legged on his chair, his eyes dull, his posture slumped.

The inspector handed Abi back her ticket. He turned to Ryan, "Tickets, please?" he said in English.

Ryan's hand moved to the back pocket of his shorts. He searched through all his pockets for a wallet that was no longer there. Finally he looked around in quiet despair, opened his mouth, and then closed it again.

"No ticket?"

Ryan shook his head.

The inspector took Ryan's arm and escorted him out of the carriage. Abi grabbed her patchwork bag and flung out a hand. "Wait!' she said in Thai."I can help!"

The door closed behind Ryan and the inspector. Abi jumped up from her bed and threw the doors open, but they had gone. She returned to her seat, flushed and embarrassed, and began to flip through her guidebook. Her powers had returned, and the world was her oyster. Where should she travel? Isan province, maybe, to the northeast? Cambodia, perhaps, or Laos? Or further afield, perhaps to the baking deserts of the Australian outback?

Abi shook her head. The Australian interior, with its murderous heat and treacherous wildlife, could look after itself.

She sighed as the train pulled into the crowded, smoky station, and tried not to think about Ryan.

The taxi dropped Ryan at Khao San Road by lunchtime. He'd finally managed to dredge up enough baht and Thai vocabulary to placate the transport police. There had been just enough cash left over for the taxi and a blister pack of antibiotics.

Ryan swallowed two tablets. He straightened, winced, and rubbed his hip where the nylon straps of his backpack had chafed. He'd owned the pack for five years and it had never rubbed before, even when new. It felt like a much-loved dog had sunk its teeth into his ankle.

He wandered past the bars and guesthouses as he searched for Khun Noi's, the English school that had employed him during his previous sojourn in Thailand. A couple of bar touts smiled at him and gestured him inside, but Ryan shook his head. The way this day was heading, he'd end up stinking drunk. Backpackers did not get shitfaced at midday. Alcoholics with a geography problem did.

However, when he found Khun Noi's shuttered, no longer in business, Ryan almost changed his mind. The sense of deadness had lifted, replaced by a feeling of loss. Or maybe it's just hunger.

He left the school and bought a bowl of cheap noodles from one of the vendors in Chao Fa. The grayness did not fade. Bowl in hand, he haunted the secondhand stalls and leafed through piles of backpacks and books. Twice he almost approached a seller, but he always stopped himself. After all, his backpack was the only expensive item Ryan owned, and without a backpack he was no longer a backpacker. He'd been travelling for half his life. Some habits were hard to break.

He turned away from the stalls and approached a pair of tourists. "Need a guide?"

The man shook his head. "No, thank you." His wife fanned herself with a guidebook as her husband towed her past.

Ryan stared after them. He flopped down in the dust without taking off his pack. The chattering tourists that passed seemed like another species; their bright T-shirts, tanned shoulders and cheerful optimism alien to his jaded eyes.

I could disappear now, and nobody would even notice I was gone. I haven't been home for two years. Haven't written more than a quick postcard for six months. Never owned a house, a car, or a major credit card. Never had a girlfriend for more than eight weeks. Never carried more than five hundred pounds in cash.

He picked up the bowl and got to his feet. The strap of his flip-flop snapped.

"Shit," said Ryan, and went to find the nearest bar.

Abi sat on a stool in the Silk Bar on Khao San Road. She stirred her pineapple juice with a straw as she watched the mix of Thais and foreigners that walked past. The bartender had brought her the drink free of charge in exchange for a ten-minute lesson on English pick-up lines. She found Thai strange, but it was easier than Finnish. The syllables rolled off her tongue like the Chao Phrya river, the knowledge as sweet as her fruit juice.

A rucksack thumped onto the stool next to her. "One beer, please," said a Western voice.

Abi moved her bag over to make way for the new arrival without looking up. She sipped her drink and decided to let bibliomancy choose her next destination. Abi set her battered copy of the Guide to Southeast Asia on its spine and let the pages fall open. She covered her eyes with one hand and stabbed at a page.

Khao San Road, she read, is a short road in central Bangkok, Thailand. It is located in the Banglamphu neighborhood.

Abi flicked the book shut, puzzled. It had always worked before.

She replaced the guide in her tapestry bag and looked around. The new arrival perched like a parrot on the next stool. His back faced Abi and displayed a mass of tatty dreadlocks with chewing gum stuck to one tangled braid. Fascinated, Abi stared at the gum until the hair's owner swiveled around on his stool and coughed.

"Uh, 'scuse me, you got any string on you?"

Abi shook her head, dumbstruck.

Ryan gestured towards his bare foot. "I wouldn't ask, only the strap broke on my shoe, and I was hoping-" He broke off. "Aren't you the girl I met on the train?"

"I... I think I remember you," Abi stammered.

"Yeah." He looked pleased. "I thought it was you.'

"Did you find your wallet?"

Ryan frowned. "No."

He looked tired. Abi was seized by an impulse to make things up for him.

"Sonchai?" she called in Thai. "A drink, perhaps, for my friend?"

The bartended grabbed a glass from the shelf. "Only for you, Abi,"

"I'll give you another English lesson later."

"Wow," Ryan said as the barman began to prepare the drink. "That's the nicest thing anyone's done for me all day."

Abi winced. Nice. "Don't mention it." She picked up her bag, suddenly unable to stay in the bar for another second. . "Enjoy your drink. I must be off."

Ryan caught her wrist. "You're leaving-"

Abi's spell snapped.

She heard a buzz as the quartz-needled compass in her bag begun to spin wildly and smelt the faint scent of ozone in her nostrils. She thought she saw a faint wisp of emerald smoke drift up from Ryan's tangled hair, but it vanished as soon as she blinked. Her head swam. She felt drained and weak.

"What was that?" Ryan had recovered more quickly than she did.

Abi put one hand on the counter to steady herself, guilt clear across her face.

"That was you?"

By the time Abi's wits had returned, Ryan had dragged her across the bar's threshold and out into the dusty street. His suntanned fingers wrapped around her wrist. Abi tugged, surprised at his strength.

"Let go of me!"

Ryan's grip did not waver. "Not unless you tell me what the hell is going on."

Abi looked around for supporters, but the few Thais who were passing ignored her. Just another farang couple having an argument.

She punched Ryan's chest. "You're hurting me," she hissed.

"Tell me what just happened."

"Okay. But first let go."

Ryan released his grip on her wrist. He stepped back and held up his hands in mock surrender. Abi examined her arm for bruises. She found none. Her guilt had vanished with the smoke, but the leaden depression that replaced it was far worse. "Come on," she mumbled. "Let's go."

"Where?"

"Somewhere else."

Somewhere else turned out to be a side-alley to the east of Khao San. It was empty save for a dog sprawled in the shade and a sweet four-feet tall old lady who smiled at them both and then tried to sell Ryan tickets to a live sex show. Abi shooed her away and slumped onto a pile of used Coke crates.

"So what is it?" Ryan prompted.

"It's... not easy to explain."

He looked unimpressed.

Abi picked at the strap of her tapestry bag. She tried to think of an explanation neither pathetic nor trite. "I have a gift," she began, and realized that she had failed on both fronts. "We have a gift."

Shit. Pathetic, trite and repetitious.

"You what?"

She sighed and decided to try another tack. "Let me guess. You've been travelling for a long time."

Ryan gestured to his dreadlocks, tattoo and deep and even tan. "That's not much of a guess."

"Let me finish." Abi said quickly. "You never have to wait for a visa. You never have a problem finding work. You've always met people easily. You've heard that other people don't have it quite as good, but that's never bothered you." She raised an eyebrow. "Until today. Am I close?"

"I guess." Ryan said in puzzlement. "But that's just how it is."

She shook her head. "Not for everyone. You've been travelling for sixteen years. You've never missed a flight. Never had your passport stolen. Never been out of work, not once. Never had a problem picking up the local languages. You don't think that's strange?"

"Not particularly."

Abi sighed. "Trust me. You're gifted. It's your superpower, if you'd like."

"Are you kidding me? Superpowers?"

"Use them for good."

Ryan narrowed his eyes at Abi. She guessed his expression was meant to be menacing, but instead it looked as if his glasses were the wrong prescription. "Prove it."

"Prove what?"

"I don't have any special power," Ryan said firmly. "I don't believe you. I'm just a lucky guy."

She sighed. "Fine. Walk towards the river. I'll meet you at Tha Phra Rachit. You do know where that is, right?"

"The pier?"

"Right." Abi picked up her bag and extracted herself from her Coke crate throne. "I'll join you there. Give me a minute's start."

Ryan waited for five minutes before he left the alley. He dusted his ass off and realized that he felt good. True, his shoes were still broken and his groin still ached, and he was still missing his wallet, but he was young and it was a beautiful day in one of the most exciting cities in the world. He settled his rucksack on his back and tightened the straps. It didn't chafe. In fact, his bag felt lighter.

Huh. Coincidence.

He headed along Khao San to the pier and wondered as he did so whether he should believe anything that Abi said. The road passed Khun Noi's. The school was still closed. A man outside the building read the posters taped to the wall. He looked up as Ryan approached. "Excuse me?" he asked in Thai.

"What's up?" Ryan replied in perfect Thai.

"Has this place been closed for long?"

Ryan squinted at the man's broad, honest face. "I'm not sure. I used to work there a couple of years ago, though."

The man smiled in relief. "Then maybe you can help. I'm looking for a man called Ryan Meloy. Do you know him?"

"Know him?" Ryan said. "I am him." He dug in his pack for his passport and pointed at the laminated photo. "Right there."

The man glanced down at the passport and back up at Ryan. He looked as if he could not believe his luck. "Then I guess this is yours," he said, and took Ryan's wallet from his pocket. "There was a business card in it for this place. I thought I'd drop it off."

Ryan took the wallet and thanked the man profusely in Thai and English. The man smiled broadly and placed his hands together in a wai. He hurried away before Ryan could attempt a wai of his own.

"Thanks again!" Ryan shouted after him. He flicked through the wallet, checking for money and cards. All were intact. "Huh," he said, tightened his toes around the broken strap of his shoe and continued on his way.

Halfway to the pier the cramp in Ryan's calf became unbearable. He leaned against a lamppost for balance and rubbed at his leg. As he wondered where he would find any string to repair his flip-flops, a shoe flew past his head and thudded in the gutter at his feet. He looked around just in time for the second shoe to hit his face. It was a light rubber sandal, the kind with a bottle opener in the sole, and it didn't hurt. Much.

Ryan bent down and picked up the shoes. I thought my luck was supposed to be improving.

A tourist in a faded T-shirt that read 'What a Long Strange Trip It's Been' ran across the street towards him. "Oh, hey, sorry, man."

Ryan held out the shoes. The man glanced at them and stuck both his hands in the pockets of his baggy shorts. "Nu-uh," he said. "You can keep them, if you want. Least I can do." He gestured over his shoulder at one of the second-hand barrows." I bought the wrong size. Can't take them back, and that asshole won't buy them. Says they're not worth it."

Ryan looked over his shoulder at the barrow. The vendor glared at him. "You must've been rude to him," he told the tourist.

The tourist didn't look bothered. "Who cares?" He looked down at Ryan's battered flip-flops. "Keep 'em. You look like you could use 'em."

Ryan flipped one shoe over to check the size printed on its plastic sole. They were his size. "Uh, thanks."

"Don't mention it," the tourist said, and vanished into the suntanned Khao San crowds.

Ryan threw his old shoes in a bin, put on the new flip-flops and headed for the pier. He was close enough to smell badly cured fish from the stalls that backed the river when somebody stopped him for the third time.

"Excuse me?"

Ryan gazed at the Thai girl as she thrust a pamphlet into his hands. She wore a modest white blouse and knee-length black skirt. She was extremely beautiful.

"Can I help you?"

The girl smiled like the moon. "I work for a small language school. We're searching for teachers. Are you looking for work?"

Ryan remembered the lazy, sun-drenched year he'd spent working at Khun Noi's. "I might be."

"Have you done any teaching?"

"A year," Ryan said. He stuffed the flyer into the pocket of his shorts and smiled back at the girl. "I'll think about it."

"Top rates!" she called after him. "We pay well!"

The odor of dried salt fish grew stronger as Ryan approached the stalls that surrounded the jetty. By the time he saw the bell-shaped domes of Wat Arun over the river, the scent was nearly a physical entity. He walked past the stalls without looking at the distorted, alien fish, and passed a row of mask shops to reach the river.

Abi waited for him on the jetty. Her fingers curled into the wire-mesh fence that separated the jetty from the shops. The breeze from the river had its own particular odor, a dank reek that reminded Ryan of a Moroccan tannery.

"Happy now?" Abi said.

"It still could be chance," Ryan said half-heartedly.

Abi snorted. "Hardly. Did you get your wallet?"

Ryan held up the battered leather lozenge. A thought struck him like a blow, and he yanked at the waistband of his shorts. The ultimate test.

Abi held up her hands. "Dear God," she said, "not here."

A look of absolute bliss settled over Ryan's face as he rummaged around in his shorts. He sighed in relief and withdrew his hand. "All normal. Thank God."

"What?"

"You don't want to know."

Abi looked at Ryan, and at his shorts, and then she shrugged. "You're probably right. In fact, you're definitely right. Now let's catch the ferry. You'll have to pay, though. I've got no change."

"What happened?"

"I lost my money," she snapped.

Ryan handed a couple of two-baht coins to the ferry attendant. He collected the tickets from the old woman and headed out onto the narrow jetty. Abi followed. She glanced down nervously at the teak planks as they creaked under her sandals.

"So you're right," Ryan said after a while as they waited for the ferry. "I do have powers. What happened back in Krabi? Why'd I lose them?"

Abi said nothing.

"You took them, didn't you?"

The wind spun into Abi's hair. She avoided Ryan's eyes, her attention fixed on the moon-white belly of a dead crocodile that floated down the river.

"Who are you, anyway?" Ryan persisted.

Abi's eyes were fierce and bird-sharp. "We don't have a name. We don't have a name, and we don't have much money, and we don't have a logo or an office or any of that stuff."

"So what do you do?"

She sighed. "We're just like you. We travel the world, and we find the wild places. We see to it that they stay wild." She paused. "Or at least, that they keep their charm."

"What, you like, kill all the developers?"

"It's more subtle."

"It sounds like a good idea." Ryan agreed. He leaned out over the sluggish river, but no ferries were in sight. He leaned back again. "How many of you are there?"

"I don't know exactly. More than ten. Less than fifty. And would you stop leaning out like that? You're worrying me." She shaded her eyes and muttered. "Of course, the way my luck's heading at the moment, it'll be me who falls in the river."

Ryan looked down through the gaps in the planks at the flotsam and jetsam that swirled around the pillars of the jetty. "What happens to me if you take my gift?" he asked. "Would it always be that bad?"

"It wouldn't always be that bad." Abi told him. "You might not even notice, after a while. You might not stick at travelling very long, though. The ferry's coming," she added unnecessarily.

Ryan watched the yellow-and-white boat cut sharply through the green waters of the Chao Phrya. "Did someone steal your powers?" he said. "Is that why you want mine?"

She shrugged. "I hardly stole them. You didn't even know you had the gift until I told you.' Her fingers tightened on the patchwork strap of her bag. "And the answer is no. They just faded."

"Why?"

"Some of us lose our ability," Abi said as the boat approached. "Mine began to fade six months ago. Now it's gone. The spell I used to steal your power used up the last of mine."

"What if it's gone?" Ryan asked, intrigued by her hint of a small and secret cabal. "What do you do then?"

"Oh, settle down," Abi said grimly, as if that was a fate worse than death. "Have kids. Find a job. Help those who still can. But I don't want to. I want to travel the world. I've been to so many places. Places you'd never think of. Places you've never even heard of," She gazed at the gleaming tiered roofs of the wat across the river. "But every place has its charm. Chaco rainforest. Salisbury Plain. Bialowiesza. Dozens more. Hundreds, even." She sniffed. "I'll miss them."

"Sounds nice." Ryan said impotently. Abi turned on him like a storm, desperate, just as the ferry boat docked and the press of passengers surged forwards. She stumbled against him and swayed as Ryan took hold of her arm to guide her onto the boat. He directed her around a pair of saffron-robed priests and onto an orange plastic seat. "I'm sorry."

"So can I have it?" Abi whispered.

Ryan almost failed to hear her over the clamor of passenger's voices and the clang of the boat's bronze bells. "Why don't you just take it?" he hissed as he sat down beside her. The boat headed south towards Thonburi. The wat loomed ahead, somehow less impressive up close. The sunlight danced from pieces of porcelain embedded into its sides.

Abi watched the temple through dull eyes, as if it was no more remarkable than a bus station. "I can't. I told you. I used all mine up. You'd have to give it to me."

"Tough. You can't have them."

Abi sighed. "I understand," she said softly.

"But we could share."

"What?" Abi's eyes widened.

"You can have half." Ryan said as the boat thudded against the Tha Tien jetty. "Does it work like that?"

She shook her head slowly. "I don't know."

Ryan shrugged. "I've travelled for sixteen years," he said. "I haven't been home for two. I haven't held a job for more than a year. I haven't done much in my life that'll last. It's been fun, don't get me wrong, but I need a change. We're both old enough to know that nothing lasts forever."

Abi blinked in the bright sunlight. "What if half isn't enough?"

"They we'll both have to learn to make do with what we've got." Ryan said, and stood up. He balanced easily on the curved boat floor in his new sandals. "Coming?" He held out a tanned hand.

Abi paused for a moment before she accepted. A tiny curl of emerald smoke drifted up from their clasped hands, unnoticed by any of the passengers. They climbed out of the boat together and walked to the wat. A colorful cacophony of noises and smells drifted from the stalls that surrounded the temple. Ahead, a row of smaller wats decorated with chunks of pottery stood waist-high. Gilded wood and Chinese porcelain glinted in the sun.

Ryan shaded his eyes from the sun. "Which way?"

Abi smiled as she tightened her grip on his hand. "Follow me," she said, and they walked among the temples.

the end