Chapter One - Richard Lewis

From the offering basket, Dharma took out several flower offerings and lit the
incense sticks. Leaning over the side, he placed the offerings in water, murmuring a
prayer.
A hundred yards away, waves surged against a stone embankment that channeled
a small river.
"There used to be a natural estuary behind the beach," Dharma said. "All eroded
away now. A short way up the road is an old army post where the Red Berets had a camp.
That's where they took my brother Catra. They shot Communists on the river bank and
threw them into the estuary. Nearly a hundred on December 10 alone. I looked at every
one."
Tina understood at once. "For your brother."
"I couldn't save him. For his cremation we had to use an effigy." Dharma looked
down into the clear water, lanced by rays of light. "The military killed him but it was
Luhde Srikandi who sealed his fate with her poison. I had no idea who she was until it
was too late."
An hour later, the blue of deep sea gave way to the turquoise pastels of reef
fringing Penida island. The driver nudged the bow into sand, and Dharma and Tina
jumped off. They headed down a cactus-lined path that blended into a narrow road
leading through a seaside village. Soon they turned and passed through an carved
limestone gate to a temple's outer courtyard. Not any old temple, but one of Bali's most
feared, Temple Ped, home to the Fanged Lord. Dharma placed his basket on a pavilion
and opened the cover to withdraw a sheathed keris.
"The other night I heard the blade rattling," Dharma said. "A sign of danger. This
is why I am making this pilgrimage, to pray to the god for protection." He vanished
through the inner gates, guarded by fanged demons carved in stone. Tina could have
wrapped a prayer sash around her waist and followed, but didn't want to forget the details
of Dharma's story, which she summarized into the recorder. Light drenched the
courtyard. The trade winds had picked up, ruffling the palms beyond the walls.
In the inner courtyard, a furious bellow exploded. Dharma stalked out of the gate,
his eyes red and huge. He'd fallen into a trance. Slashing the air with the keris, he
bellowed again and rushed down the stairs, whirling to attack unseen enemies. Two
priests darted after him, sprinkling holy water on him, trying to break the trance.
Dharma stabbed offering baskets as he ranted. The commotion attracted
passersby, who rushed in to grab his arms. After another heavy dousing of holy water, he
finally collapsed and sagged backwards. The villagers led him to the pavilion and sat him
down on the edge. He groggily came to full awareness. He stared at the keris for a second
before putting the tip to his palm. Pricking hard to draw blood, he licked the drops
welling out of the cut.
Tina knew better than to ask if he was okay. He was both okay and not okay.
Unexpected trances were not uncommon, especially at one of Bali's most spiritually
charged temples.
Dharma sheathed the keris and placed it in the basket, and they wordlessly left the
temple. He led the way with slow steps down another track, winding to a fisherman's
empty hut on the beach, smelling of salt and seaweed, a not unpleasant iodine odor.
Waves lapped the sand. Dharma plopped heavily onto on a rough bench.
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