The Thai Amulet by Lyn Hamilton

locked it. Without much thinking about it, I closed the closet door.
    A splatter of dark reddish brown droplets, now dry, speckled the wall behind the door. We both looked at it in silence for a moment of two. “I suppose it could be tomato sauce or red curry paste,” I said finally.
    “In the bedroom?” Ferguson said. “I think it’s time we called the police, don’t you?”
    Chapter 3
    I should begin
with an explanation of how I, son of a rather minor court official, should come to play a role in the political affairs of the royal court of Ayutthaya. It is because my mother was appointed wet nurse to Prince Yot Fa, son of King Chairacha by the royal concubine Lady Si Sudachan. The lady, who had not a drop of motherly love in her, as her consequent actions make clear, had no interest in the nurturing of her child.
    That role fell to my mother, whose loss of a daughter, my only sister, when the baby was three days old, made her an excellent candidate for the position. She lavished the love for her lost child on the little prince.
    I was six years old at the time and can recall my fierce jealousy of the child I saw as a rival for my mother’s affection. In time though, I came to love Yot Fa as a younger brother. He was a melancholy child, a worry for his father, and everyone was pleased that I took the boy under my wing. For me it meant the run of the inner palace, the finest of food and clothing, and an education way beyond my station. I began to take on the swagger of a prince, to imagine that somehow I had been switched at birth. My mother scolded me for putting on airs, but she, too, was happy that we were so close, that I, unlike others, could make Yot Fa laugh.
    Six years later, a second son was born to the king and the concubine, the Prince Si Sin, but I believe that the two princes were never as close as Yot Fa and I were, and certainly my affection for Yot Fa did not extend to his little brother, despite my mother’s obvious adoration of both princes. I found Si Sin
—
I’m not sure how to put this
—
untrustworthy, perhaps, or even somewhat devious as he grew older
—
although I’m not sure one should ascribe such traits to a child. Perhaps it was the rather churlish disdain older children have for those much younger, but I felt Si Sin was his mother’s son, unlike Yot Fa, who was much more like his father, the king.
    As I grew older, I came to admire King Chairacha, if it is not too presumptuous for someone like me to say so about divinity. I was well aware, as was everyone in the palace, that he gained the throne by putting to death his nephew, the young King Ratsada. Despite that, I found him to be a wise and even-handed ruler, and diligent in his efforts to improve our seafaring capability and our army by improving the river channel and bringing in the Portuguese to instruct us in the use of firearms. He was also a religious man, building Chi Chiang Sai Monastery and placing there an image of Lord Buddha and a holy relic soon after he became king. I have often wondered since, though, if the horrible act that brought him the kingship lay at the heart of the difficulties that plagued his reign, as if the spirits, angered by the deed, wreaked their revenge. Certainly there were many evil omens that indicated all was not well in the kingdom. But perhaps I imagine this.
    It is difficult for me to describe Lady Si Sudachan, in part because of what was to happen later, but also, if I am to be honest, the fascination she held for me. I was afraid of her certainly. She was not a woman to be taken lightly, often cold and distant, always quick to anger, even faster to seek revenge for any insult, intentional or otherwise. She was also
—
I don’t know
—
seductive? I was much too young to appreciate the sexual side of her appeal, of course, but I sensed something. As much as I feared her, I also found myself wanting to be near her, to do something, anything, which would cause her to see me in a favorable