by Samit Basu
‘Very well,’ said Abhishek, ‘then listen to me. The Tear of the Sky is impossible to steal, for it is fiercely guarded, except for one day in the year, when it is kept in the open, the day of the swayamvar of Princess Achala. On that day, it is revealed to those who contest for her hand in marriage, and it is believed that the gods confer their blessings to them through this priceless gem.’
‘Why would a princess’s swayamvar be held every year? Does she change husbands once a year?’ asked Kirin.
‘No. The gem is supposed to be part of Princess Achala’s dowry, but it will never leave Avranti, I assure you. In any case, even on the day of the swayamvar, the gem is well guarded.’
‘Why?’
‘Because everyone knows that the swayamvar is nothing but an elaborate ruse to capture the Bandit King,’ said Abhishek.
‘I crave your pardon, minister. This is almost interesting. What on earth are you saying?’ drawled Omar.
‘The Bandit King is probably the best archer in the world,’ said Abhishek, ‘and it is well known that he and the princess are lovers. So for the last two years, the Maharaja has been trying to capture Rabin by making the swayamvar an archery contest, and offering the Tear of the Sky as a prize. For the last two years, the story has been the same – the Bandit King came to the swayamvar in disguise and won the archery contest, thus winning the hand of Achala and the gem as well. And since the Maharaja knows the Bandit King is the world’s best archer, he simply ordered his guards to capture the winner of the contest. But both years, Rabin managed to escape. This is why the swayamvar is held once every year, on the day of the full moon of the month of the Tiger – this very month, in fact. Everyone knows Rabin will come to the swayamvar this year as well, in disguise, and win the archery contest. In fact, the guards do not even challenge him when he enters Ektara in disguise. The Tear of the Sky will be laid on a cushion for all to marvel at, and when Rabin wins the archery contest, the guards will try to capture him again.’
‘But what if someone else wins the archery contest?’ asked Bali. ‘Would he then win the gem?’
‘Yes, but I suspect Maharaja Aloke has no intention of giving the gem away, and if Rabin does not turn up this year – he is ridiculously easy to identify, he is the only one in disguise, he wears a silly green hood – the Maharaja will announce that this year, the gem will stay in Avranti and the winner merely gets to marry the princess.’
‘I thought the princess decided whom she wanted to marry, and that was the whole point of swayamvars.’
‘There is much you do not understand about the world, boy,’ said Abhishek loftily. ‘Of course the princess has the final word. But we do not tell the world that, because everyone knows the princess wants to marry Rabin, and then no one else would even come to the swayamvar.’
‘What if…’ said Kirin slowly, ‘someone else went to the swayamvar in a disguise and won it?’
‘Rabin is the best archer in the world,’ said Abhishek simply.
‘Well, what if someone removed him and went in his guise?’
‘What nonsense. That would be impossible.’
‘True,’ said Bjorkun. ‘And that is why, Abhishek, you have to steal it for us. Vanars, pashans and asurs are not allowed in Avranti. I would be recognized, and Omar and the ronin have other tasks. We cannot hire archers now – the risk of betrayal is too great, the secret must not be revealed to anyone else. It has to be you.’
‘But I am an important man,’ gasped Abhishek. ‘My reputation, my social standing…’
‘Is there anything else you can tell us about the Bandit King or the gem?’
‘No. That is all I know.’
‘Very well, then. Omar?’
‘Thank you,’ said Omar. There was a hiss, a flash of steel and suddenly Abhishek was headless.
Kirin looked at the bloodlust and excitement in the eyes of Bali and Bjorkun.
‘I have a plan,’ he said. ‘Spikes and I will go to Avranti, win the contest and get the gem for you. Leave it to us. I know pashans are not allowed in Avranti, but I have a plan.’
‘If it was anyone else but you, Karisman, I would have laughed,’ said Bali. ‘But since it is you, I actually believe you can do it.’
He got up. ‘Bjorkun and I will be traveling to the north,’ he said. ‘We will win over the werewolves and the ice-giants, and return. Your tasks are clear, my brothers. King Leer gets the asur crown, the ronin brings the Gauntlet, Omar the lamp and Kirin and Spikes the gem. Two months it is, then. Bjorkun, Leer and I will now go to the Council, where the Civilian’s spies must be wondering about our absence. Our rousing speeches will reassure them. We will meet again, on new moon’s night in Dragonmonth, with the five objects we need, and then we will see what is to be done.’ He shot a glance at Kirin, who nodded quickly.
‘The first meeting of the Brotherhood of Renewal is now over. Depart swiftly and secretly, and tell no one. Do not be late. If you fail, may luck be on your side, for I will not.’
He strode out of the room, followed by Bjorkun, the asurs and the ronin.
‘You think you can get the Avrantic gem, sorcerer?’ Omar asked softly.
‘I will try,’ said Kirin. ‘Anyway, there is no one else.’
‘A secret society of sorcerers called the Karismen, servants of Danh-Gem,’ said Omar, getting up. ‘That’s strange – many of Danh-Gem’s records are kept in Artaxerxia, and none of them speak of this.’
‘We were a very secret secret society,’ Kirin told him.
‘I see. Most fascinating. And you have no desire to lead the Brotherhood.’ He threw back his hood suddenly, and his shadow filled the room.
‘I have never heard of the Karismen,’ he hissed. ‘And I have shown you my face. Very few people alive have seen my face. I hope you come back with the gem, sorcerer.’ He cast his hood over his face, turned and was gone.
‘I don’t see why you had to volunteer,’ Spikes told Kirin as they left the chamber, stepping carefully over the puddles of Abhishek’s blood.
‘Didn’t I tell you?’ said Kirin, managing a smile. ‘I’m helping them. I want to see this through. And as I said, I have a plan.’
Chapter Nine
Bolvudis village, Tigermonth 4th, 5 a.m.
Muwi-visions acted in 7, New spells learnt several, Warrior skills 3/10, Magic 8/10, Attraction for Asvin don’t know.
It’s been a month now since Kirin disappeared. I wonder what he’s doing, and where he is. I hope he’s thinking about me sometimes, because I miss him terribly.
I don’t believe I’m waking up this early voluntarily. But before I go for the backbreaking yoga and martial arts session that has become a part of my routine (alas!) I’d better write down what happened last night. Really strange.
Asvin and I were walking across the cliffs, listening to the sirens singing on the rocks. I had spent the evening trying to teach him elementary spell-casting, which was not such a good idea. Anyway, it was very romantic and everything and Asvin was sending several soulful glances in my direction, so I was quite pleased. We were cutting through the Square Forest, and Asvin suddenly said he had something to tell me. I suddenly realized how perfect the setting was, just right for a hero who wanted to make passionate declarations, and just dark enough for him not to see if I grinned in the middle. So I said What is it, Asvin? – as innocently as I could.
Then he suddenly stiffened, like a dog on a scent, and started plodding through the forest. Panic attack, I thought, and ran after him, asking him what was wrong. He said he could hear the song again. I listened carefully, and I heard it too – it was a very sweet sound, coming from inside the Square Forest. A song, in some northern language. I liked it, but Asvin was completely enchanted – he just kept walking towards it, I almost had to run to keep up.
After a while the song grew louder, and we saw something glowing in the forest. I remembered the girl Asvin had talked about in the Bleakwood – and yes, it was her again. I saw her, and realized why Asvin had bee
n raving about her. Tall, slim, blonde, looked like a Skuan goddess. Flowers at her feet, discreet vines around her.
Trust my luck. When I’m really attracted to someone, I get, for competition, beautiful raven-haired Durgan princesses and mysterious naked singing maidens. I suppose I should be grateful the rakshasi Akarat was taken.
Asvin made a complete fool of himself. He burst out of the trees saying Nightingale! And the girl saw him and fled. What a figure – I must get more exercise. Asvin threw himself down on the ground and kept saying Not again, not again. I wonder why.
Who is that woman? Is she some spirit of the forest who has followed Asvin here? Is she a northern siren of some sort? Is she dangerous?
We went to Gaam’s hut and told him. Asvin was still in a daze – while he was busy tripping over Queeen, I told Gaam the singing naked girl was back. He looked worried.
Well, Asvin’s here, I have to go. In a few days we’ll finish preliminary training and start going on more quests.
Chapter Ten
The sun was bright in north Shantavan as a man walked along a narrow path running through the forest. He was tall, broad and handsome, clad in tight green clothes. A long yew bow, a shabby pack and a full quiver were slung across his back, a weather-stained sword in a ragged scabbard hung from his belt and a merry song was on his lips. A fine figure was Pushpdev Rabin, the Bandit King.
A few years ago he had been the Raja of Oodh, a peaceful little country west of Avranti, before Maharaja Aloke had annexed his lands unjustly. The young king had barely escaped with his life. He had fled to Shantavan, and he ruled the northern half now, with his faithful and ever increasing band of followers.
Rabin of Oodh had studied in Hero School in Kol, and was implementing in the forest many of the theories he had learned there. Economics was his favourite subject; he had even written a book – On Economic Inequality; Redistribution of Income in a Hypothetical Forest Economy – which was now a standard text in Hero School. He aimed to rob the rich and pay the poor until perfect economic equality and social justice were achieved in a transformed, classless society.
‘Three days, my love,’ he said to a passing squirrel. ‘Three days, and I will steal you away, and you will be my merry queen, and I will bring you fresh flowers every morning.’
The squirrel ran away, unimpressed. A boy emerged from behind a tree. Not dangerous, Rabin saw, releasing his sword-hilt, pleasant looking boy. ‘Hail, my merry lad!’ he said jovially. ‘And what brings you to this peaceful wood?’
‘You,’ said Kirin. ‘I’ve been watching you for three days now. Are you the Bandit King?’
‘Why?’ said Rabin, drawing his sword. ‘Who wants to know?’
‘He does,’ said Kirin, and Rabin turned and saw a face, very close to his. A very ugly face.
Spikes leant against a tree, inspecting his claws casually.
‘See, you are going to answer my questions,’ said Kirin quietly. ‘But we can do this my way, or we can do this his way.’
Commonsense and Bravado wrestled for a moment inside Pushpdev’s head. Commonsense won.
‘I am the Bandit King,’ said Rabin.
‘Very pleased to meet you. How quickly can you get the disguise you are planning to wear for the swayamvar of Princess Achala?’
‘What?’ said Rabin, stunned.
‘Well?’
‘I’m carrying it right now. What is going on?’
Kirin knelt, put his hand on the ground and muttered the incantation. The earth quivered, and began to bulge.
‘This time, you are going to bring Achala back with you,’ said Kirin. ‘I’ll tell you how on the way.’
Two Avrantic guards stood, spears crossed, in front of the Hall of Fire in the Ektara Rajprasad, where the swayamvar would take place a few hours later. Their uniforms shone and their moustaches under the helmets gleamed with oil, and the ends had been honed to razor sharpness by patient rolling. They knew the princes who would arrive any minute now would not even notice them when they parted their spears and saluted them; but you had to look your best for the swayamvar. The guards of the entrance to the Hall of Fire were held in great esteem by the other guards – the royals, of course, never even looked at their faces.
A young man came rushing down the corridor. ‘Pashan loose in the palace!’ he gasped. ‘Two guards down already, and it’s coming this way!’
‘Run tell someone else, lad,’ said one of the guards. ‘We can’t leave our posts.’
‘But there isn’t anyone else! The other guards haven’t come yet! You have to come with me!’ said the young man, and he ran back down the corridor. ‘I suppose we’d better follow him,’ said the guard, shrugging.
‘We should send word to the Senapati,’ panted the other as they broke into a run.
‘There’s no time now!’ yelled the man. He opened the door at the end of the corridor, and the guards ran in past him and stopped abruptly when they saw Spikes standing over a fallen man, fangs gleaming, in the middle of the empty hall.
The young man slammed the door shut. The guards raised their spears as Spikes charged at them. Before he could reach them the man behind them stepped forward, and extending two long fingers, jabbed one guard sharply behind the right ear, and then the other. The guards turned and looked at him, puzzled.
Then their eyes glazed over and they swayed and fell.
‘You should have let me take them,’ said Spikes.
‘How did you do that, Kirin?’ asked Rabin, getting up.
‘Nerve endings,’ said Kirin, dragging one of the guards behind a heavy curtain. ‘They’ll sleep for hours. Now get the other one. We must hurry.’
It was straight out of The Standard Book of Swayamvar Surprises, Chapter Four. They had stopped thinking of new ones.
Target: A fish.
Attach to bottom of a rotating disc far above the floor. Use sharp instrument.
Disc should be spinning on a pole that stretches from the floor to the ceiling.
Seven crescent-moon-shaped blades, spinning on the pole below the disc, at different speeds.
At the bottom of the pole, a circular tank filled with water.
On the floor of the tank, a mirror.
The candidate has to shoot the eye of the fish, seeing only the reflection in the tank.
Arrow must pass through all seven blades.
All candidates have to use the same bow and organizers must provide identical arrows. Breaking of bow is punishable by death.
Kicking of pole and dirtying of water to disadvantage other candidates not allowed.
All candidates to be given one chance only.
If more than one candidate shoots fish the bride-to-be chooses from among the successful candidates.
(Note: Keep spare fish)
The Hall of Fire was huge, one of the largest in the Rajprasad. It was a closed hall, but so brightly lit that the absence of windows was never noticed. The only entrance to the hall was the huge door at one end, which was mostly left open, letting the sunlight in from the corridor outside. There were hundreds of huge torches on the walls, and one roaring fire in the centre, burning ever since the beginning of the Avrantic nation. Royal swayamvars ended with ceremonies around this sacred fire. Many beautiful paintings hung between the richly carved pillars along the walls. Servants manning huge fans kept a constant refreshing breeze whispering through the hall. Fifty guards stood, wielding spears, at regular intervals, behind the large seats where the princes from all over the world sat, in a long line on either side of the Hall of Fire, with a dais at one end and the door at the other. The Maharaja sat on an ornate throne on the dais, wearing the Crown of the Sun, with the Maharani to his left and his greatest general, the Senapati, to his right. The Princess Achala, Asvin’s cousin, sat on another throne, next to the Maharani. Beside her stood her bodyguard, a Durgan warrior-woman, whose principal duty was to keep an eye on her and see she did not run away to Shantavan.
; In front of the throne, just below the steps that led up to the dais, on a scarlet velvet cushion, lay the Tear of the Sky, a huge, sparkling diamond, that seemed to shine with a white fire of its own. The most precious jewel in the world.
Like all such gems, there was a long history of murder and hatred behind this glittering gem. As it lay in the hall, every eye turned to it from time to time, to simply soak in its brilliance, and in every mind was born a fierce desire to possess that brilliance, to snatch the gem from the cushion and run.
Which was why there was a special regiment of guards, kelari warriors from South Avranti, whose sole duty was guarding the Tear of the Sky.
Four men, bare-chested, their dark oiled skins glowing, stood around the gem, never even looking at the princes who, one after another, walked up to the spinning pole further down the hall, beyond the fire in the middle, and tried in vain to shoot the revolving fish.
Already there were about thirty arrows in the ceiling, and everyone in the hall was growing impatient. These princes weren’t expected to shoot the fish. Where was the Bandit King?
Aristocrats from all over the world sat sullenly in the seats on either side of the hall. Many of them had come directly from Vanarpuri, and were pretending hard that they had never seen one another before. They made a fine spectacle, with their brilliant raiment, their shining armour and their glittering array of deadly weapons, with or without runes and complicated names. Kirin, standing in a guard’s armour beside a pillar, looked at the many proud, haughty faces all over the hall, the result of so many centuries of selective breeding, and was strongly reminded of a troop of Artaxerxian camels he had once seen entering Kol. Many of these princes had seen me wandering around in Vanarpuri. But he hadn’t existed in their worlds even then. Now, in a guard’s uniform, he couldn’t have been more faceless.
A loud murmur ran down the hall. A tall, broad figure, completely covered in a dirty green cloak and hood, shuffled into the Hall of Fire. The guards at the door gave each other meaningful looks as they parted spears and let him pass. The words ‘The Bandit King’ flew around the hall, and whispers climbed on the shoulders of other whispers and peeked as the green-clad one sat on a seat that had thoughtfully been left empty at the far end of the hall. It was one of those unbreakable Laws of Nature making its presence felt.
