“I would most certainly do that, Princess,” the man said, bowing. “Excellent suggestion. But it just occurred to me that you don’t have a handmaiden of your own here in the palace. Isn’t that something you would like rectified?”
Pralupi fixed the soldier with an icy stare. After a while, she switched her gaze to the woman, who quickly lowered her eyes to the ground. The princess looked back at the man, and when she spoke, her voice was cold and measured.
“What is your name, soldier?”
“Vismaya, Princess. And if I have offended you in any way, I offer my deepest…”
“What can your niece do?”
The chief of the guards looked at the princess in a mixture of relief and hope. “I… she can…” he stopped, confused. “I think… she can sing, Princess.”
“Sing?” Pralupi’s lips twisted mockingly. “I don’t have much use for that. Can she do any real work…”
“I will do whatever you wish me to do, your honour,” the woman spoke for the first time, her eyes still downcast. “If I can’t, I will learn. I promise.”
Your honour. Pralupi liked that. She really liked that.
“Come here,” she said to the woman. “What did you say your name was?”
“Mithyamayi, your honour.”
* * *
Striding into the hall of the governor’s mansion, Atulyateja was reminded of his last visit to the place, the night Satyaveda had hosted him and Ghatakarpara for dinner. Remembering that night, the garrison commander kicked himself once again for having missed all the little cues that had been telling him that the governor was up to no good. Satyaveda’s fawning behaviour, his attempts at charming the prince and winning his trust, the subtle yet elaborate ploy of separating him, Atulyateja, from Ghatakarpara by sending him to oversee the battle preparations in Madhyamika and Gosringa — everything meticulously executed to isolate Ghatakarpara, so that he could be plucked and handed to the barbarians like a ripe fruit.
Had he paid closer attention to what was happening at the dinner table, none of this would have…
“What is the meaning of this, commander? Are your men out of their stupid minds?”
Atulyateja turned to observe Satyaveda stomp into the hall. The governor was attired in official clothes, but these were crushed from being sat around in. He also seemed to have misplaced his turban, so that the bald patch on his head gave him an even more scrawny and vulture-like appearance. He ranted in his nasal voice all the way from the door to Atulyateja’s side, his face contorting in outrage that almost succeeded in masking the fear in his eyes.
“How dare they put me under house arrest? Me, Governor of Malawa! Under whose silly orders are they acting? I wished to step out, but your men forced me back inside at sword-point. Do you understand what I am saying? I was prevented from dispensing my duties as governor, you understand? An act of treason against the representative of the crown. I will have this reported, and you can have it from me that those responsible will pay a hefty price.” Switching suddenly to third person, he added darkly, “I will teach those who mess around with Governor Satyaveda a lesson they won’t easily forget.”
“Are you done? May I speak now?”
Atulyateja did not use any official form of address, and his tone was calm but neutral. If Satyaveda noticed this, he showed no sign of it. “You may speak if it is to offer an apology for this appalling behaviour,” he said, forcing a coldness into his voice that didn’t fool the commander one bit.
“There is nothing to apologize for. The men were acting on my orders.”
“What…? Why? Have you lost your…” The governor stopped as Atulyateja raised a hand, demanding silence.
“You were placed under house arrest because I did not want you preventing us from… interrogating Chirayu.”
The garrison commander had smartly switched ‘questioning’ with a more intimidating ‘interrogating’ at the last moment, and he was happy to see Satyaveda pale a little.
“Chira— Why has Chirayu been arrested, and what has that got to do with me?”
“Chirayu is your assistant, isn’t he?”
“So?”
“Assistants like Chirayu have lots of interesting stories. I also placed you under house arrest so that you could not leave the garrison until I had finished questioning the merchant Aatreya and his men, who include a fool by the name of Kubja.”
“Who is… who are these people?” Satyaveda bluffed and blustered. “Have you gone completely insane? Why are you telling me…?”
“Aatreya is the merchant in whose company you spend hours betting on cock fights that are held illegally in the northern limits of Udaypuri. Aatreya is the man whose daughter Prince Ghatakarpara fell in love with, a situation you came to know of and used to your advantage to get the prince kidnapped and handed over to the Sakas. No, no… don’t waste your breath denying this. Aatreya told us all of this, among a lot of other things. As did Chirayu in his confession. And Kubja is one of the prince’s kidnappers, a complete idiot who was stupid enough to steal something that belonged to Ghatakarpara and gift it to his wife — which is how everyone involved in this affair has finally been nabbed. And that includes you, you understand?”
The governor had turned ashen, but there was still some fight left in him. “Lies, these are all lies. Some enemy of mine is trying to set me up. I have nothing to do with any of this…”
“Quiet!” The garrison commander stepped closer to Satyaveda, and the traitor quailed.
“The other afternoon, you did not grant me immediate permission to launch a hunt for Ghatakarpara, because you were buying time for your cronies to move the prince from wherever they were hiding him into the mountains, and from there into the Marusthali. Instead of facilitating a search that may have resulted in the prince’s quick rescue, you deliberately hindered the process. Before that, you had Chirayu bribe the guards in Sristhali with promotions, so that they would look the other way when Chirayu brought the snake to the Huna scout’s cell. In your capacity as Governor of Malawa, using the means and powers vested in you, you have been aiding and abetting our enemies in various ways, Satyaveda. You abused the authority of your office, and your actions have all been schemes and designs against the throne of Avanti — acts of treason committed by a representative of the crown.”
Satyaveda had put his hands together in supplication and was whimpering, mumbling unintelligibly under his breath. He appeared to be crumpling at the joints, bending and breaking as if the glue that had held him up all this while was loosening and giving way. His face was contorted with fear, shame and anguish, but even though he looked closely, Atulyateja saw no sign of remorse.
Disgusted by the man, the garrison commander inclined his head at one of his soldiers, who was bearing a set of shackles. As the soldier slapped the chains on Satyaveda’s hands, Atulyateja said, “I remove you from your position as Governor of Malawa and arrest you on charges of treason. Further, I will petition the court of Ujjayini to send you into the Forest of the Exiles for conspiring against the kingdom of Avanti.”
“No, please, no!” Satyaveda’s eyes went wild at the mention of exile. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I must not have been in my senses… You must listen to me. No, not treason… please… I beg you.”
For a moment, Atulyateja watched his prisoner with contempt. Then, he stepped even closer to whisper into Satyaveda’s ear. “I am guaranteeing nothing, because no one is going to take a lenient view of you,” he said. “But maybe, just maybe, there is a tiny chance of not ending up in the Dandaka — if you can tell me exactly where in the desert the Sakas have taken Prince Ghatakarpara.”
* * *
“The Halahala is in Borderworld?”
A hush had fallen over the Court of the Golden Triad, and only the torchlit shadows shifted this way and that in small, erratic movements, as a draught rose out of the valley outside and blundered through the hall, nudging past the assembled asura generals, looking for a way out. Holika, wh
o had almost ceased breathing, came down the last few steps from the black crystal throne of Patala to stand before Shukracharya, her eyes pools of ice blue, wide with almost childlike amazement.
“Really?” she asked again, searching the high priest’s face.
“The bones had been telling me as much for a while now,” Shukracharya nodded with a rueful pull of the face. “Sadly, I misinterpreted what they were alluding to.”
“For the second time, mahaguru.”
The words, raw-edged with the stirring of displeasure, rumbled deep in Hiranyaksha’s throat. Shukracharya looked over Holika’s shoulder to see the asura lord lean forward on his throne, an elbow on one knee, the other fist resting on the other thigh, a frown forming under the heavy ram horns curling up from his forehead.
“Unfortunately, yes,” said the high priest, biting back a retort that he knew would have been ill timed. He hated being reminded of how he had misread the bones the last time, when they had warned him about the yaksha coming to take Vishakha’s life. And now this terrible mix-up over the dagger’s hiding place. He realized that Hiranyaksha was justified in feeling let down.
Swallowing his pride, Shukracharya lifted his chin in the direction of the asura lord. “I just failed to connect the field of endless pyres with Borderworld, and the banyan with Betaal’s abode. It never once crossed my mind that the human king might have access to the Ghoulmaster himself.”
“But how, mahaguru?” Holika placed a pacifying hand on Shukracharya’s forearm. “How did the human king get Betaal to keep Veeshada’s dagger? What influence does Vikramaditya exert over the Ghoulmaster?”
The high priest turned to consider the small gathering of asura generals. The hour was late, else the court would have been full of keen and inquisitive asuras, he knew. His own sons Chandasura and Amarka were in the crowd. “It’s a story that goes all the way back to the king’s childhood.”
For a moment, Shukracharya let his words hang in the ensuing silence, which echoed with the faraway roar of the Patala Ganga, plunging and snarling past the black crystal palace in a petulant and perpetual loop of damnation.
“It all began with a severe bout of brain fever that afflicted Vikramaditya when he was a little boy,” Shukracharya launched into the account, turning back to face the asura sibling-consorts. “The fever was particularly virulent, and despite everything the palace vaidyas did, late one night, the boy died — briefly.”
“Briefly?” Hiranyaksha echoed the word in befuddlement. “What do you mean?”
“Well, he died, but he came back. Or rather, he was brought back by the Ghoulmaster. The Ghoulmaster caught the boy stumbling through Borderworld, but realizing that his time hadn’t come, he led the boy back from Borderworld to his home in Ujjayini.”
Shukracharya paused to look at the faces that had drawn around him in a tightening circle of curiosity and interest. “That was quite a remarkable event in itself,” he said, “but nothing compared to what happened years later, when the Ghoulmaster was taken captive.”
“Betaal, a prisoner?” gasped an asura general. “How did that happen?”
“By way of a Huna sorcerer.” Seeing the blank expressions around him, Shukracharya paused. “The Hunas are also humans, desert dwellers. They want to capture Sindhuvarta — they’ve been wanting to for years now. In fact, they had overrun large parts of Sindhuvarta before they were driven back into the desert.”
“The sorcerer of the desert dwellers is capable of taking Betaal captive, and yet, they were driven out of Sindhuvarta?” Holika shook her head in incomprehension. “How?”
“The Hunas were driven back by Vikramaditya and his Council of Nine.”
Again, a moment’s silence as the asuras weighed the import of what had been said.
“How was the Ghoulmaster set free of the Huna sorcerer’s clutches, father?” asked Amarka.
“When the Hunas invaded and conquered large parts of Sindhuvarta, the local kingdoms were offering them stiff resistance. Vikramaditya had just become the king of Avanti and leader of the Sindhuvarta alliance when the Huna sorcerer captured Betaal. The sorcerer’s objective was to sacrifice Betaal and take control of Borderworld, which would provide the Hunas a ready army of undead warriors to be deployed against Sindhuvarta’s forces. The undead are hard to kill, and those who died fighting the undead would be revived and would return as part of the undead troops.”
“A masterstroke,” Hiranyaksha smiled grimly in appreciation. “A constantly replenishing army with no casualties among your own soldiers. Every general’s dream. No way the desert dwellers could have lost from there, had they succeeded. What stopped them?”
“Betaal,” Shukracharya replied. “And Vikramaditya.”
“What the Hunas didn’t realize when taking the Ghoulmaster prisoner was his sheer will to survive,” the high priest continued. “Betaal knew his time was running out, but he had the presence of mind to reach out to the one he had rescued as a boy — the human king. He haunted Vikramaditya’s sleep until the king took notice and told the king about his predicament, as well as what his death meant to the kingdoms of Sindhuvarta. He also told Vikramaditya that there was only one way out of the situation — Vikramaditya had to rescue him from the sorcerer’s clutches and take him back to Borderworld. And the human king was the only one who could do this…”
“…as he was the only one alive who knew the route into and out of Borderworld,” Holika finished triumphantly. “He had done this journey before as a boy.”
“Precisely,” said the high priest. “To cut the story short, Vikramaditya and his army, which included the councilors Vararuchi, Varahamihira, Amara Simha and Kalidasa, attacked the Hunas who were holding the Ghoulmaster captive. The king and his councilors fought like men possessed. Kalidasa killed the sorcerer, so that Vikramaditya could free Betaal and return him to the safety of Borderworld. The Hunas’ plans and ambitions were torn to shreds, and the battle really broke the resolve of the invaders. From then on, the tide of the war turned firmly in favour of Sindhuvarta’s defenders.”
“And the Ghoulmaster owed a debt to the human king from that time, which is why he agreed to keep Veeshada’s dagger,” Hiranyaksha concluded.
“How does the human king enter and come out of Borderworld, mahaguru?” asked an asura.
“With the help of his extremely clever and talented chief councilor, Acharya Vetala Bhatta. The Acharya has a way of playing with minds. He creates a conduit for his king to slip in and out of Borderworld.” Shukracharya paused and looked around the assembly meaningfully. “Which is what we will do as well — create a conduit to enter Borderworld.”
“To take the Halahala from Betaal, mahaguru?” Anticipation kindled in the depths of the Witch Queen’s cold eyes. A restive murmur broke out as excitement caught and leaped from one asura to the next and knitted possibilities over their heads.
“Yes,” the high priest spoke above the din. “Indra is basking in the glow of what he has achieved — dividing the human brothers and setting them up for confrontation. That doesn’t matter any longer, for we know the dagger is not in Ujjayini under the protection of the Nine Pearls. But Indra doesn’t know that. He will be watching Vikramaditya and keeping an eye out for us, expecting us to show up in Sindhuvarta. The human king thinks the Halahala is safe as long as it is in Borderworld, and anyway, between a disgruntled Vararuchi, a vengeful Kalidasa and the Hunas, he has plenty to deal with. Neither he nor Indra expects us to go into Borderworld. Nor does the Ghoulmaster. If we move swiftly, Veeshada’s dagger is ours for the taking.”
“Let us move swiftly then, mahaguru.” The asura lord’s eyes were molten gold and smouldering as they assessed the high priest. “Tell us how we can find our way into Borderworld. How do we, the living, enter the realm of the passing?”
“Entering is relatively simple; it is the coming back that can be tricky,” Shukracharya said. “It can be accomplished nonetheless. The human king does it easily, and I myself have been there.” T
urning around, he cast his eye over the gathered generals. “What I need to figure out is how to take an army of a hundred asuras along, and bring all of them safely back from Borderworld.”
* * *
Amara Simha’s face was a deep tone of red in the light of the torches, though it was hard to say whether it was on account of the torchlight, or because he was trembling with barely contained fury.
“The treacherous snake,” he spat. “The cunning, conniving, worthless piece of scum! How dare he plot against Avanti… how did the thought even cross his filthy mind? The kidnapping of a councilor, the king’s own nephew. What audacity! Hold him tight here,” he pointed at Atulyateja to stress his point. “I will have him hanged for what he has done.”
“Satyaveda is firmly under lock and key, councilor,” the garrison commander assured, adding with a chuckle, “And the only one liable to set him free by smuggling a cobra into his cell is also in prison.” Pausing to sober up, he said, “Should you wish to see him, I can have him presented to you.”
“Much as I would love to look the vermin in the eye and spit on his face, now is not the time. Ghatakarpara is our priority.” Amara Simha shook his head as if dismissing a thought. “I’m also afraid if I find Satyaveda in front of me, I won’t be able to stop myself from tearing his head off. The prince is like a son to me. If anything happens to Ghatakarpara, I shall skin the man alive, I swear.”
“The prince will be safe, councilor,” the garrison commander assessed Amara Simha, who was yet to dismount from his horse. Ranged behind the councilor was the force of samsaptakas under Angamitra’s command, all tough and dusty men waiting for a command to ride back into the dark. And in their midst, though Atulyateja didn’t know this yet, were the Huna scout and the interpreter who had come along on this expedition. “We will find him. But do come inside. You can’t stay out here all night. Have all of you eaten?”
“We must begin our search for Ghatakarpara,” Amara Simha replied, not moving, not responding to Atulyateja’s invitation. He peered into the darkness of the garrison’s courtyard from under his bushy, red eyebrows. “There’s no time to lose.”
The Vengeance of Indra Page 27
