Healed by Hope by Jim Melvin Page B

between them, forming a natural archway that stood alone in a sea of sand. Gutta had told her that this precarious architectural arrangement could remain in place long into the future, or it could collapse at any instant. All things were impermanent. Such was the way of the desert—and the world.
    Since her first visit to the archway, Nimm often had come alone to this place. It both frightened and tantalized her to stand beneath the arch, and she had dared to do so for only a few moments at a time before rushing to safety. On this day she had come here alone again, but she discovered that someone else had arrived before her. Dammawansha, the High Monk of Dibbu-Loka, sat cross-legged beneath the arch. His eyes were closed and face invitingly peaceful. Nimm crept slowly forward, making no sound that her ears could hear.
    The nearer she approached, the more Nimm became convinced that the monk was dead. She could discern no movement. Not even his chest seemed to rise and fall. Dammawansha was as still as the stone beneath which he sat. But she had watched the monks and nuns meditate before, and they all had looked this way. She found it strange.
    About half a dozen paces from the arch, Nimm stopped, sat, and waited—all through the setting of the sun. When darkness came, the monk seemed to glow, illuminating his unthreatening features.
    Finally, the little girl yawned, not out of boredom but out of sleepiness. It was time to return to her tent. Though it was no longer unusual for Nimm to wander unaccompanied, Ura eventually would become concerned. There was no safer place in the world than Anna, but bad things could happen to a child anywhere—as Nimm had learned firsthand.
    She started to turn and crawl away, but the monk suddenly lifted his head and opened his eyes, as if he had known all along that she was there. The girl suppressed a yelp.
    “Must you leave so soon?” said Dammawansha, his smile as gentle as the desert breeze that caressed his bare brow. “I was enjoying your company.”
    Nimm stood up in a huff. “Your eyes were closed, so you couldn’t have seen me. Did you hear me?” Then she sniffed her underarms. “Or smell me?”
    Dammawansha chuckled. The pleasant sound warmed Nimm’s heart. “I simply became aware of your presence,” the monk said.
    Nimm sat back down. But she did not respond.
    As if sensing that he was making her uncomfortable, Dammawansha changed the subject. “I had another vision.”
    Again, curiosity overcame her, and Nimm’s eyes widened. “A good one . . . or bad one?”
    “Hmmmmm . . . that is an interesting question. Depends on how you define those words. I would surmise that most would find it both good and bad. Would you like to hear it? I haven’t told anyone else.”
    “Yes,” Nimm said.
    Dammawansha’s eyes twinkled. “Very well. I know it’s getting late, so I’ll try to be brief. In my vision, the king of Anna will return to the Tent City—and he will bring with him a queen.”
    Nimm was unable to conceal her disappointment. “You’ve already told us that. You’ve been blabbing about it for days.”
    “Blabbing? Is that what I’ve been doing?”
    Nimm lowered her head. “Sorry . . . I didn’t mean to say that. Please don’t tell Ura or Gutta. They’ll be mad at me.”
    Dammawansha chuckled again. “I won’t say anything to anyone, I promise. But be patient with me, little Nimm. I have not yet told you the new part.”
    Like most children, the word new enthralled Nimm. She sat upright and listened intently.
    “The queen is with child,” the monk said.
    “You’ve said that too!”
    “Indeed I have. But now comes the really new part.”
    “Yes?”
    Without warning, the monk’s gentle voice became raspy—and scary. “The baby will be . . . evil.”
    Nimm wanted to run, but her legs felt tingly. “Evil? You mean . . . bad?”
    “Yes . . . very bad.”
    “What will the king do?”
    Dammawansha rubbed his hand along his bald