The Windup Girl

Kanya makes herself smile, thinking how unnatural it is to reassure someone with Pai's experience. "We can hope." She waves at the boy. "Take me, then." She glances at Pai. "Meet me at the Ministry when you have finished here. We have one more place left to burn."

"The farang factory?"

Kanya almost smiles at his eagerness. "We cannot let the source go uncleansed. Is that not our job?"

"You are a new Tiger!" Pai exclaims. He claps her on the back before he remembers his station and wais apology for his forwardness and then hurries back to the destruction of the village.

"A new Tiger," Jaidee mutters beside her. "Very nice for you."

"It's your own fault. You trained them to need a radical."

"And so they choose you?"

Kanya sighs. "If you carry a burning torch, apparently it is enough."

Jaidee laughs at that.

* * *

A kink-spring scooter is waiting for her on the far side of the dikes. The boy climbs on and waits for her to perch behind and then they are off through the city streets, weaving around megodonts and bicycles. Their little air horn blares. The city blurs past. Fish sellers, cloth merchants, amulet men with their Phra Seubs which Jaidee used to make so much fun of and which Kanya secretly keeps herself, close to her heart on a small chain.

"Currying favor with too many gods," Jaidee observed when she touched it before leaving the village. But she ignored his mockery and still whispered prayers to Phra Seub, hoping for protection that she knew she didn't deserve.

The scooter slews to a stop and she hops down. The gold filigree of the City Pillar Shrine gleams in the dawn. All around, women sell marigolds for offerings. The chanting of monks carries over the whitewashed walls along with the music of khon dances. The boy is gone before she has a chance to thank him. Just another of the many who owe favors to Akkarat. Likely the scooter is a gift from the man, and loyalty the price of it.

"And what do you get, dear Kanya?" Jaidee asks.

"You know," Kanya mutters. "I get what I swore I would get."

"And do you still desire it?"

She doesn't answer him, steps over the barrier door to the shrine's interior. Even at dawn, the shrine is crowded with worshippers, people crouched before the Buddha statues and the shrine of Phra Seub, second only to the one at the Ministry. The grounds bustle with people making offerings of flowers and fruit, shaking out their fortunes with divining sticks-and over it all, the monks chant, guarding the city with their prayers and amulets and the saisin that stretches from the shrine to the dikes and pumps. The sacred thread wavers in the gray light, held aloft on poles where it crosses thoroughfares, stretching miles from this blessed hub to the pumps and then circling the seawalls. The monks' chanting is a steady drone, keeping the City of Divine Beings safe from the swallowing waves.

Kanya buys her own incense and food offering, takes it into the cool confines of the pillar shrine, down the marble steps. She kneels before the old city pillar of sacked Ayutthaya, and the larger one of Bangkok. The place where all miles are marked from. The heart of Krung Thep, and the home of the spirits that protect it. If she stands in the shrine's doorway and looks out toward the dikes, she can see the rise of the levees. It is obvious that they are in the depths of a bathtub. They are exposed on all sides. This shrine… she lights her incense and pays her respects.

"Don't you feel like a hypocrite, coming here, of all places, at Trade's whim?"

"Shut up, Jaidee."

Jaidee kneels beside her. "Well, at least you're giving some good fruit."

"Shut up."

She wants to pray, but with Jaidee bothering her, it's useless. After another minute, she gives up and goes back outside to the increasing morning light and heat. Narong is there, leaning against a post, watching the khon dances. The drums beat and the dancers go through their stylized turns, their voices raised high and stark, competing with the drone of the ranked monks across the courtyard. Kanya joins him.

Narong holds up a hand. "Wait until they're done."

She masters her irritation and finds a seat, watches as the story of Rama is played out. Finally Narong nods, satisfied. "It's good, isn't it?" He tilts his head toward the pillar shrine. "Have you made your offerings?"

"You care?"

Other white shirts cluster in the compound, making their own offerings. Asking for promotions to better paying assignments. Asking for success in their investigations. Asking for protection from the diseases that they run up against every day. By its nature, this is a shrine for the Environment Ministry, almost as important as the temple of Phra Seub, the biodiversity martyr. It makes her nervous to speak with Narong in front of them all, but he appears entirely unconcerned.

"We all love the city," he says. "Not even Akkarat will fail to defend it."

Kanya makes a face. "What do you want from me?"

"So impatient. Let's walk."