Free Forever the Road (A Rucksack Universe Fantasy Novel) by Anthony St. Clair Page B

destined to meet. You do like I do. We follow the path we see and let it take us where it’s going. Destiny.”
    “Never was one for destiny,” Jay replied. “I choose what I want to do, where I want to go. Then I go there. I make my own way.”
    “So you just up and came to India.”
    “Sure. Time for a change. Thought I’d get to know one of the world’s most amazing countries. Figured I could see the eclipse too before I skip out of here. It’s supposed to be a rare one. Besides, after Tibet I could do with some warmer weather and thicker air.”
    “I can imagine. But I envy you too. I miss Tibet. I know the dirt o’ those mountains anywhere, and that stuff’s ground itself into you from your skin to your soul to the fibers and heart o’ your backpack.”
    “You’ve been to Tibet?”
    “I have. As well as Bhutan, northern India, Kashmir and Pakistan. From the Hindu Kush to Assam, I know this country like the back o’ my right hand.”
    “And the back of your left hand?”
    Rucksack grinned. “You’re smarter than she took you for. The back o’ my left hand, that’d be Ireland.”
    Jay stared at the black leather glove. The left hand was smaller than the right. “What happened to your left hand?”
    “Ah, you wouldn’t want to hear about that. It’s a gruesome tale involving an innovative effort to come up with the world’s first piecrust flattener machine. But the way o’ it is that I’m from the world’s wisest seats o’ wisdom, my lad. I’m born of India and the Himalaya—not necessarily o’ the country, just the mountains themselves, and the land, the water, and the air. I’m Himalayan by birth, Irish by fortune, and myself by choice.”
    “How’d you wind up in Ireland?”
    “That’s a boring story o’ youth and a family that had to flee for their lives. Nothing that would interest you. You must be tired, you devil, and I’ve peppered you enough. Look at this place!” Rucksack swept his arms wide. People sang, danced, played music. Every table was talk, jokes, stories. But Jay’s eyes kept going to Jade behind her bar.
    “Aye,” Rucksack said. “She’s something. More than you or even I know.”
    “Maybe I’ll find out.”
    “Maybe. Few people are more guarded than a Jake or a Jade, lad. Let that stay right in your mind.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “All you need to know.”
    “And what are you, then?”
    “I am the world’s only Himalayan-Irish sage. Now drink up and enjoy.”
    The stout warmed something in Jay. Rucksack was evasive and full of riddles, but Jay couldn’t help but like him. “I’ve been traveling for five years,” Jay said. “Lots of stamps in that passport. I’ve even added pages. The last two years I’ve been in Asia.”
    “Yet this is your first time in India.”
    “It’s a big world. I wanted to see more of it first. Asia... I guess you could say I wanted to save the best for last.”
    Rucksack eyed Jay over a swig of stout. “At least you’re here now. India must seem pretty small beer to a well-worlded lad such as you though.”
    Jay shook his head. “On the contrary. It’s obviously an eventful place, and I haven’t even been here twenty-four hours. The scariest part, though, was the gang of cockroaches in the loo.”
    “How are the roaches?” Rucksack asked.
    “I didn’t stay long enough to find out how much they charge for protection money.”
    “There’s only one thing for those buggers.”
    “Don’t they say roaches would survive the end of the world?”
    “They do. Trouble is, they know nothing about Indian booze. Get yourself a bottle o’ Ram Rum or some o’ that other swill Jade keeps on the bottom shelf. Pour it all over the loo. Corners o’ the walls, around and in the shower drain, under the sink, everywhere. Bastards won’t bother you again.”
    “Why? Does it get them drunk?”
    “Melts their legs off. Roach can’t menace if it can’t walk.”
    “Not exactly a nonviolent approach to one of our