"Jesus," Carlos said, turning the clawed weapon from side to side.
"The claw of Heru, to be mo' accurate," the elderly chess player said with a wink. "Put the other hand on the bottom and pull." He sat back and waited until Carlos followed his instructions, and he laughed deeply as Carlos's left hand extended the handle until it disconnected, leaving a thick gold chain between both halves. "Claw on one side, chain in the middle that cannot be broken, and a handle on the other side. I take it you know how to use nunchucks?"
Carlos stared at the weapon, and began to swing the dangling end in a slow circle.
The old man sighed. "You'll need practice. Guess she gonna hafta show you that, too. But, when you need it, you can kick some serious booty if ya swing that sucker right, catch a throat with the chain, bust a skull open with the end, and match fangs for fangs, claws for claws with the sharp end. Like I said, though, ya needs technique and training, but that ain't my department. Alls I know is, put the end back in and put it away until you need it-like ya needs to put your Johnson away until ya need it." He laughed hard and shook his head. "Airport security won't see it, as it comes from a very special place. Just leave it in your pants, got that?"
Carlos couldn't take his eyes off the weapon as he snapped the handle back on and it again became a small, ordinary-looking pocketknife. He put it into his pocket like the old man had told him and stared at the strange individual before him. "Thanks," he said, meaning it with his whole heart. "But I have to find her and need to know about this fourteenth gift. I need to know as much as I can to be able to do what I have to do."
Carlos leaned forward, but the old man held up his hand. "Ain't my place. That's fer her to show you."
"I'm trying to find her now," Carlos said quietly. "Please, man, for real. My head is all jacked up, a lot has gone down, so if you know-"
"See, now, I ain't ask you all of that. That's your personal business. All you had to do was say, 'I'm lost, tryin' to get back on the right path,' then my job is simply to offer directions."
Carlos closed his eyes. "Sir, I'm lost and trying to get back on the right path, honest to God, I am."
"From this point, I can go no farther," Telek said, stopping the Jeep by the side of the road. "There is war along the borders."
For a moment, she just stared at him. "Then we came all this way to turn around? Why?"
"No, we came all this way for you to go to the two Niles."
Damali glanced around. "Okaaaay. But if there's war and you can't drive me... a chopper or-"
Telek shook his head no. "Many problems with crossing borders in unauthorized aircrafts, not wise. Not possible. So, I leave you here."
"What!"
He leaned across Damali's lap and unlatched the door with a smile.
"No way! Out here? By myself? Brother, you know that ain't right, after all the good Samaritan stuff we talked... I told you thank you, right? I haven't offended you, have I? We're still cool, right? Oh, Lawd, man, don't just make a sister walk through a war zone!"
"I'm not going to make you walk," Telek said, gathering her tight fists within his palms.
Damali slumped back into her seat with sudden relief. "Bless you. For real."
He gently opened her palms and his gaze at them made her stare at the stones.
"In your left hand, granite from the ancient obelisks, covered by hallowed ground from the holy shrine of St. Mary of Zion-for spiritual strength. Quartz crystal on the right, for vision and healing... clarity of direction. Your feet, this path, washed clean of the past by Queen Sheba's pool." Telek's voice became soft. "It is time to fly, little bird. Take one stone in each hand and make the arc of Light around you to become the sparrow."
Again, she stared at him, mouth agape. Oh, no, he was not going to go cosmic on her, out here, without real practice, and send her flying through a war zone with rocket-propelled grenades, freakin' land mines, and whatnot. Ohhell no. Damali withdrew her arms and folded them over her chest. He couldnot be serious.
When Carlos opened his eyes, he landed with a thud and stood quickly, his heart pounding so hard that he could barely breathe. He immediately felt the temperature shift from fairly cool to hot and dry as he glanced around the bustling modern city that owned tree-lined streets. It took a few moments to get his bearings and sort out the traffic noise from the roaring falls that still echoed in his head.
Yet he was practically giddy when he realized where he was standing-the White Nile Bridge.He did it ! The old chess player did it. Somebody did it, but it was all good.
New confidence filled him as he walked along the pedestrian and bikers' path gazing at the water. Just like the old days... well, almost. But the fact was he'd concentrated on a location, folded Light in on itself, and had actually walked through space and time without a passport, even if his first attempt was a little ragged.
Savoring the moment, he leaned on the metal guardrail and stared out at a body of water that had once ferried pharaohs. Excitement made the hairs on his arms stand up with electric charge. He had no idea the guys from the Light could pull off a stunt like this. As soon as the thought entered his mind, he self-corrected it. "No stunt, my bad. But this was awesome," he murmured to no one in particular, but to anyone that might be in spiritual earshot.
A small bird shot past him with stones in its beak, and he laughed. Everybody was always in a rush, he mused, delighting in just being alive. Just like the chess player had given him something serious to ponder, there was something that he was supposed to get or learn where both rivers met, so he looked out at the massive body of water, concentrating on their nexus as hard as he possibly could. Nothing came to him but his own inner voice, which was beginning to wrestle with worry again.
A biker whizzed by and his voice floated behind.Shari el-Nil . Carlos stared after the man who was long gone. He repeated the words. Was it a message, or just a greeting in the land's mother tongue? Carlos sighed, knowing there was only one way to find out.
Carlos walked a bit, sidling up to nonthreatening-looking pedestrian with the intention to try out the new words. The man seemed regular enough, like he could be somebody's pop. But with all the bizarre things that had happened, one couldn't be so sure.
The man sported a pair of worn leather sandals, a green plaid shirt, rough-hewn tan cotton pants, and a small burgundy crocheted cap atop his partially balding head. He had an easy gait that suggested he was in no particular hurry to go wherever he was headed. If the unintelligible phrase was a curse word shot by an overly aggressive biker, then Carlos figured he could apologize in English and plead tourist ignorance. However, if it was a greeting, and the locals were friendly, then the reply would give him two new words in his arsenal within this strange land.