THE MOUNTAIN OF Gunungbatu was actually a bleak, stony hill set among other bare, rocky hills that stretched in every direction, as far as the eye could see. The town of Gunungbatu, as bleak and gray as its surroundings, sprawled at the foot of the hill that gave it its name. A dusty sign proclaimed it to be the biggest settlement in the region, but as this part of Jayangan was hardly well populated, it did not mean much. Gunungbatu’s main street was a dispiriting huddle of unkempt stalls and shops, and its roads were in a state of disrepair. There was none of the brightness and color of Kotabunga, not even the sleepy charm of smaller Kejawen towns. The few people who were on the streets looked rough and suspicious; indeed, some of them looked like brigands who’d like nothing better than to rob Adi and Sadik of whatever they had. Adi’s heart sank.
But Sadik did not seem to care. He drove through the town, chattering cheerfully about how much Gunungbatu had grown recently, since his master had made his headquarters near here. He would not hear of Adi getting out, saying that Gunungbatu townspeople were not very friendly toward strangers, that someone from the community where he lived would be sure to be going to Kotabunga in the next day or so, and that they would be glad to give Adi a lift. “I will take you to our community now,” Sadik said, “for I think it would be discourteous of me not to give you some hospitality.” He did not add “and it would be discourteous of you to refuse,” but the implication was clear. There was no way out.
Adi nodded. “Thank you,” he murmured. He looked out the window at Gunungbatu slipping past. After a short while, they turned onto a potholed road signposted to the “Community of Light.” Yes, that definitely sounded like a Pumujisal community, thought Adi nervously.
“Are you sure no one will mind my being here?” he said. “After all, I am a stranger.”
“Of course no one will mind! You know I was taken in by our great master when I was cruelly orphaned. He has done so much good, Adi!” Sadik’s face shone. “You will see, Adi, my master, Shayk Rasheed al-Jabal, is the holiest, purest man in all of Jayangan, and probably the whole world! And he is so learned, it makes my head swim.” He looked down at his hands. “I am afraid I am not the best student there. I cannot keep enough verses of the Book of Light in my head. I try, I really do. But then my silly thoughts scatter them, and I cannot remember.”
They had arrived at a great white gate with the name of the community emblazoned on it in thick black letters. By either side of the gate stood four tall, broad, impassive-faced young men, heads swathed in black-and-white headcloths, and dressed in jeans and T-shirts. As the car drew up, Adi saw their hard gazes turn to him, minutely noting every aspect of his appearance. He shrank back into his seat, saying, “Sadik, I do not think it would be a good idea for me to come here. It is a private community, after all. I will get out and walk back to the town. I will find a bus there, or—”
“Don’t be silly,” said Sadik, stopping the car. “There are no buses, and the people of Gunungbatu can be unfriendly. They are superstitious and believe their mountain is haunted, and that strangers aggravate the ghosts that are there. They are fools! Besides, you’re my friend. We always welcome friends.” He got out and approached the guards at the gate. Adi watched as Sadik conversed earnestly with them. His hands felt clammy, his breath came fast. He thought of jumping out of the car and running away down the road, but did not dare to think what might happen then.
Adi could certainly see no welcome shining out from the guards’ faces—only a watchfulness, a suspicion that made him feel very nervous. But in a short while, Sadik came back to the car, wreathed in smiles. “No problem,” he said, jumping back in. “They will just call up to the main house.” And indeed, one of the guards pulled out what looked like a walkie-talkie from a pocket of his jeans and talked quietly into it.
“No problem at all,” said Sadik again, cheerfully. “You will see.”
The guard finished his conversation, looked at them, smiled, and waved them on. Another guard opened the gate, and they rattled through, Adi trying to look relaxed and comfortable as they passed the guards.
“Those boys,” said Sadik as they bumped along, “they are good boys, but they do not always know how to behave. Never mind—we must be careful in these days, as there may well be tricksters of the Demons’ Army trying to get in.”
“The Demons’ Army?”
“Our master has told us there is a great struggle for the cosmos,” said Sadik gravely. “The Demons are trying to control the world again. We are with the Army of Light and fight against them.”
“Oh,” said Adi, and a great relief filled him. Somehow, he must have come to the right place. These people obviously knew something about what was going on. They might well be able to help him.
A few men and women walking along the track paused to look at them, and Sadik greeted them, introducing Adi as his good friend. Adi smiled and greeted them a little nervously but felt himself relaxing. He looked curiously at his surroundings. To one side of the track were rice fields where people were working, and to the other were vegetable fields.
Sadik, noticing Adi’s glance, said proudly that the community was almost self-sufficient in vegetables, though not yet rice or meat. “But we are getting there,” he proclaimed, as they passed a herdsboy pushing along a bright-eyed contingent of goats. He waved and smiled at them, his interested gaze on Adi, who grinned back.
Now the track wound through a cover of trees and emerged into a clearing. Here was a cluster of large houses and huts, set around an open-air, pillared pavilion. The pavilion was white, decorated with bright, geometric patterns, and featured the words “The Light Shines” on its concrete pillars.
“That’s our meeting place,” said Sadik proudly. “We built it ourselves.”
Some distance from the pavilion was an elegant building whose golden roof and white towers proclaimed it to be a Mujisal house of worship. Farther still was what looked like a high wall, perhaps the entrance to an inner compound.
The houses clustered around the pavilion were carefully whitewashed, their tin roofs glittering, and around the houses was arranged a series of little gardens. Neat pebble paths edged with white rocks linked the pavilion, the houses, and the house of worship. It was quite a sight out in this back block, and a welcome one after the dust and ugly straggle of Gunungbatu.
“So,” said Sadik, drawing the car up with a flourish outside one of the houses, “how do you like my home, Adi?”
“It is very fine,” said Adi truthfully. “Much has been done here.”
“We have worked hard. The land was all rocks and weeds when my master first got here, five years ago.”
“Wah!” said Adi, impressed. “That is a short time to accomplish all this.”
Sadik beamed. “It certainly is! It is proof of the shining nature of our master’s goodness, and how it inspires people. Now, my friend, I will take you to the washhouse, so you may refresh yourself. I will ask if you may be presented to the master so that—”
“Please forgive me,” interrupted Adi rapidly, “but would it be possible for you to ask your friends if any of them are going to Kotabunga soon?”
Sadik nodded. “I will ask, indeed.”
As they got out of the car, Adi noticed that they were being watched by a small group of unsmiling youths. He bent his head and smiled, but their gaze did not waver, nor their expressions change. He wondered if they thought he was too finely dressed, here in this hardworking place, and unease roiled up inside him again.