by Samit Basu
The mysterious stranger shoots last.
As he sat, everyone in the hall stared for a few seconds, and then the swayamvar continued, everyone in the hall gallantly pretending they weren’t perfectly aware that it was Rabin of Oodh under the faded cloak.
Kirin looked at the princess with some amusement –her eyes were glowing, her sweetheart had come to carry her away. The only thing missing was the white horse.
Well, father, you said you had given me a lot of power. I’ll find out today. The first time I’m really trying to flex that ravian mental muscle.
There were just two archers left before things got interesting. Kirin began to move silently towards the far end of the hall, closer to the Tear of the Sky. No one looked as he walked behind the seats. Some of the other guards threw questioning looks at him, but said nothing.
A prince from north Xi’en stepped up, picked up the bow, took his arrow, and pointed it upwards, looking down into the tank.
The old kul-guru, now sadly senile, sat near the pole, giving the contestants streams of useless advice. As the prince pulled the bowstring back, he jumped up and said ‘Wait!’
Annoyed murmurs ran through the hall. The kul-guru said ‘What do you see when you look into the water?’
The prince said, ‘Seven revolving crescents, and a fish.’
‘Hopeless,’ said the kul-guru. ‘Anyway, shoot, for what it’s worth.’
The prince let the arrow fly. It glanced off a blade and shuddered into the ceiling.
A ripple of excitement ran through the hall. One more to go, and then the Bandit King.
Lukochuri, last of the Potolpuri princes, stepped up. ‘What do you see?’ asked the kul-guru.
‘I see only the fish,’ said Lukochuri, peering into the water. ‘So close,’ said the kul-guru, shaking his head. Lukochuri looked harder. ‘Wait a minute, venerable one,’ he said, ‘I see only the eye of the fish.’
‘We have a winner!’ announced the kul-guru. ‘For his aim will surely be true!’
‘Thank you,’ said Lukochuri, and shot.
And missed completely.
There was complete silence in the Hall of Fire as the last archer stepped up. Achala stared at his broad shoulders and shivered in anticipation. Every guard in the hall gripped his spear a little tighter.
The green-cloaked archer picked up the bow and took an arrow. ‘What do you see?’ asked the old kul-guru.
‘I see a foolish old man who will get an arrow in the heart if he doesn’t shut up,’ replied the archer in a sinister whisper. The rattled kul-guru sat down.
The man in the hood took aim carefully, waited until the blades were almost perfectly aligned and then shot. There was an excited gasp as the arrow left the bow. And a huge ‘Oh!’ as it shot through the blades and pierced the eye of the fish.
‘The Bandit King has done it again!’ someone shouted.
Maharaja Aloke stood up. Kirin moved up between two seats.
‘Well done, stranger,’ said Aloke as several guards moved forward. ‘But should not my fair cousin see the face of the man who has won her hand?’
The figure in green said nothing.
‘Oh come on, Rabin,’ said Aloke. ‘This is ridiculous. We’ve got you this time. Even your own men have not bothered to show up. Just surrender quietly. Show me your face, and let us finish this.’
Silence. Some of the princes drew their swords.
The figure in green slowly lifted a gloved hand to his face, and then threw the hood back in one swift motion. Achala screamed.
It was Spikes.
At that precise moment, when each and every eye in the hall was fixed on Spikes’ magnificently ugly face, Kirin reached out and the Tear of the Sky flew to his hands. He slid it into a pocket and stepped back. Even the kelari warriors, their training forgotten, gaped at the pashan and gasped with the rest as Spikes said, ‘I win the contest. I claim the bride, and the prize.’
Every eye swung to the cushion where the Tear of the Sky had been a second ago. Another gasp, an even louder one, echoed from floor to ceiling. ‘It’s gone!’ yelled someone who believed in underlining the obvious. There’s always one.
There were two seconds of stunned silence.
Then Aloke cried ‘Seize him!’
The fabric of the cloak was ripped apart as spikes burst through it. With one great hand Spikes swept aside the spears of the nearest guards. He turned and ran towards the door, pushing aside the few who managed to reach him. He moved very fast – only the two guards who stood at the gate had any chance of stopping him now. They stood their ground as Spikes hurtled towards them, and pointed their spears at him.
Then one of the door-wardens stepped back, and swung the handle of his spear, bringing it down on the back of the other’s head with a mighty crack. As the guard fell stunned, the assailant threw off his helmet.
It was Pushpdev Rabin, the Bandit King. He blew the assembly a kiss as Spikes ran past him, and then they slammed the great hall-doors shut. A second later a hail of arrows and spears shuddered into the mighty doors and stuck there, quivering.
‘There’s magic in this!’ yelled Aloke, springing down from the throne, sword drawn. ‘Get them!’
Every guard save one ran towards the door and pounded on it, but it was barred from the outside.
And now for the real test. Kirin threw his arms into the air, and muttered a spell Maya had taught him.
There was a whoosh as every fire in the room went out, plunging the Hall of Fire into complete darkness.
As everyone in the hall yelled and ran around in utter confusion, a few guards ran to relight the torches, but they couldn’t. Someone wailed ‘Never before has the sacred fire gone out! The end of the earth is come!’
Princess Achala’s Durgan bodyguard suddenly felt a sharp pain as someone poked her behind the ear. She turned angrily, but her limbs seemed to have fallen asleep and she crashed to the floor.
‘Do you want to marry the Bandit King?’ asked a soft voice in Achala’s ear.
‘Yes,’ she replied.
‘Then come with me.’
Twenty minutes later, when they finally managed to break the great door down, the palace was searched from end to end, but no sign of the princess, the pashan or Rabin could be found. The city gates were watched ceaselessly for weeks, but fruitlessly–they seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth. It was concluded later that the Bandit King had been in league with evil spirits.
But the most mysterious thing, everyone agreed, had happened in the Hall of Fire. For when they had lit the hall up again, they had seen, on the dais where Aloke’s throne had been, the marble slabs had been mysteriously ripped up, and right in the centre of the dais was a perfectly smooth brown earthen circle, stretching thirty feet across. A few hours later another circle, exactly like the one on the dais, was found in a derelict stable, where no well-bred horse had ever been housed.
Chapter Eleven
The magic mirrors to Avranti and Ventelot didn’t work. They were either broken, or blocked, Mantric had said. If Asvin opened the mirror to Kol, of course, the whole adventure would end in death by drowning in the waters of the Asa. And Mantric had told Asvin that the time had not yet come for him to go through the mirrors in Xi’en and Elaken. The last two months had passed so fast for Asvin that he had never even found the time to ask the master spellbinder why.
After Mantric had heard about their adventure with Akarat in Shantavan, he had looked pleased. If Akarat had risen again, he had said, it meant that the level of magic in the world was strong enough for the old Psomedean monsters to reappear, which meant that Asvin could go on a number of quests. And so as Tigermonth passed, and then Seahorsemonth came and went, Asvin went for quest after dangerous quest, and reached a point where a normal day of rigorous training began to feel like a holiday.
Every day, the mer-men or the imps would come and tell Mantric about a new monster ravaging an island in the Ossus Archipelago. Then Mantric would send Gaam, A
svin and Maya, borne on dolphin-drawn boats, to fight the monster. They were never very far from Bolvudis, and often Irik or Stivin Seagull would come and call them away from one quest because a more important one had arrived.
The good thing about this whole exercise was that Asvin gained not only invaluable experience but also a large number of extremely valuable magical items. Some of these had belonged to heroes of days long gone and had reappeared in the bellies of woken monsters – some others were lying in forgotten caves in one Psomedean island or another. And more were being sent to him from Kol.
In two months, he had achieved more than any hero had ever done in the past. Of course, this was largely due to Gaam and Maya and the fact that so far they had known how to deal with every monster they came across, and had not had to work it out for themselves.
And they chose their quests carefully, not attacking monsters in uninhabited islands unless there was something to be gained from it.
Of course, some adjustments had to be made. For example, when a giant sea serpent had been spotted idling in the ocean, no doubt scouting for a pleasant coastline to ravage, they had known it would attack a maiden tied to a rock. The only problem had been getting a maiden to volunteer to be tied to a rock. No one in Bolvudis particularly wanted to end up inside a sea serpent’s stomach. Asvin had been very surprised, until Gaam had explained that it was not always the case that a hero’s mere presence would cast all damsels in the area into perilous predicaments he could rescue them from. Most of the rescues in the legends were, Gaam said, either fictitious or pre-arranged, and hardly ever sheer coincidence or fate. In the end a grumbling Maya had let herself be tied to a rock while Asvin, sword in hand, prowled the beach.
The fact that the serpent’s arrival had created a huge wave that had swept Gaam and Asvin far away and Maya had had to burn off her ropes and kill the monster on her own was, they all agreed, best kept secret. From the serpent’s scales Gaam concocted a brew that he made Asvin and Maya keep in goatskin pouches tied to their belts at all times – it was a vaman secret, a Weather-All Potion. Once you drank it, you would be affected neither by Skuan cold nor by Artaxerxian heat. It was because the vamans drank this potion every day – they made it from the scales of the giant serpents in the subterranean seas – that they could withstand immense heat underground, and could wear thick armour even in the heat of the Al-ugobi desert. They were the first humans to drink this sacred potion, Gaam told them, and they felt suitably honoured.
Asvin collected many magical swords, bows, shields and spears on his quests. He had an amulet that protected him from stomach ailments, a ring that prevented baldness, a bracelet to ward off earthquakes, boots that made no sound and earrings to prevent insect bites. But the most wonderful thing he found in the Ossus Archipelago was a magical helmet that let him see in the dark. This he had won after cutting open a hydra that had reappeared in the swamps of one of the islands in the Archipelago.
They had known from the tale of Eurekus that if they cut off any of the heads of this nine-headed monster, they would have to burn the stump really fast, or two heads would grow in the place of the one they had removed. After thinking for a whole day, Maya had had an inspiration. She had asked Mantric to create three huge cauldrons of really glutinous Gum That Bubbles, and they had fought the hydra with these. They had sloshed about in the swamp until the monster had attacked them, and then they had thrown Gum at it for a few hours, until all its nine heads were completely preoccupied in chewing maniacally, and all its sharp fangs were stuck together. Then Asvin advanced and slit open its belly neatly, and found the helmet.
It was on that very day that Asvin suddenly realized that he had been in love with Maya for some time. He knew that his chances of winning her in a typically heroic manner were very slim indeed, and that he could not surpass her in wit, knowledge or skill, and she was just as brave as he. So for the first time in his life, Asvin found himself in a situation where he badly wanted to woo someone, but could think of absolutely nothing to do.
He dealt with it in the easiest way possible, telling himself that it was mere infatuation and it wouldn’t work, because after all they had to work together and romance would complicate matters. But when, on one clear dark night in Bolvudis, he heard the song of the wood-nymph again, he resolved not to go looking for her even if she was the most beautiful woman in the world.
And when, a minute after deciding this, he found himself running out of his hut towards the mysterious maiden in the Square Forest, and drawing closer and closer to her wondrous song, he felt very guilty indeed. And when Gaam, who had also heard the song, caught up with him in the forest, tackled him to the ground, admonished him sternly and made him return to the village, a part of Asvin was grateful, albeit slightly reluctantly.
Rumours about Asvin’s deeds had begun to spread. Whispers had flown to every corner of the world – there was a mysterious hero abroad, the hero of Simoqin’s prophecy, and hope was not all lost.
And the followers of Danh-Gem heard rumours too – of the slaying of the great Akarat and many other powerful creatures, of a nameless, faceless hero performing deeds as great of those of Ossus or Eurekus of old.
The month of the Dragon began. One morning, Maya and Gaam watched Asvin match the young fighters of Xi’en step for step on the cliffs of Bolvudis. As he battled them in the gusting morning wind, radiant, handsome and fearless, they knew he was almost ready for whatever Danh-Gem and fate would throw in his way.
‘There is just one more thing,’ said Gaam, ‘and then we can take him to Kol, and wait for Danh-Gem to arrive, and when he does, reveal Asvin to the people.’
‘And what is that one thing?’ asked Maya, watching Asvin, enraptured.
‘The most powerful armour in the world,’ said Gaam. ‘The Prophecy said he would wear it.’
‘Where is it?’
And he told her, and saw the fear he felt reflected in her eyes.
The Silver Dagger was in Kol, gathering news instead of corpses. From time to time, the men and women of the Silver Phalanx brought him little magical items they had found or won, and he would send them to Bolvudis.
He heard that the Princess Achala of Avranti was now happily married to the Bandit King. But the members of the Silver Phalanx who spied on Rabin told him that the Bandit King had not revealed even to his own men how he had brought Achala to Shantavan – he would only say that he had been sworn to secrecy.
Then he heard of the earth circles in Avranti and thought of the one he had seen in the Centaur Forests.
Where was Kirin? Had he worked with Rabin? He knew that vanars had come to Rabin and Rabin had refused to go to Vrihataranya – so was Rabin working with vanars now, or with Kirin? Why had Spikes stolen the Tear of the Sky?
Whenever faced with more than three questions at once, the Silver Dagger’s normal procedure was to kill people and reduce the number of unanswered questions. But though it left a bitter taste in his mouth, he now accepted defeat with a shrug of his shoulders, because he knew he could not fight magic. He had seen the waters of the Fountain of Enki, and they were rising every day. The Civilian had sent divers down to the bottom of the River Asa to find Jaadur’s mirror. But so far it continued to elude them.
The Dagger also heard of the mustering of armies in the north and west, and made sure that the rift between the Koli asurs and the Imokoi danavs stayed wide. His men were busy too. Certain barons in Ventelot had already disappeared, and there were four members of the Silver Phalanx amongst the troops of Omar the Terrible. They had orders to kill him on sight. But he never showed his face even to his own men.
The Dagger knew everything that had happened in the Parliament of Vanarpuri, and what the leaders who had assembled there had done after that – but the vital clues were missing, the leaders’ movements were still shrouded in mystery. He had still not found Omar the Terrible, though he had discovered that the Sultan was his father. One of his best men followed Bali and Bjorkun th
rough the north, but no one knew what they sought in the ice. An Avrantic minister who had gone to Vrihataranya had not been there at the council, and had not returned. And in Xi’en, a ronin trying to steal the Gauntlet of Tatsu had been killed by the Wu Sen monks.
The Civilian had sent many messages to Xi’en, asking that the Gauntlet be brought to Kol, where it would be safer, in secret – but it was unlikely that Xi’en would let that happen. And there were new assassins coming to Kol every day. Mercenary ninjas from Xi’en, young, untrained fanatical boys from Artaxerxia, even a vanar in disguise or two.
How many more would he have to kill?
He was tired of everything. In a world of rakshases, the Silver Dagger was just another mortal.
It was time to leave the game.
Chapter Twelve
‘Thank you, Karisman. You have repaid my trust by returning. The next meeting of the Brotherhood of Renewal will take place as planned tomorrow night,’ said Angda, her dark face shining with more than the light of the torch she held.
Two weeks to Danh-Gem’s return. Kirin felt a strange shiver run up his spine.
‘Where are the others? Are they here? Did they find what they sought?’ he asked.
‘The asurs have arrived with the Iron Crown, Karisman. Crows have been coming regularly, and I know that my brother and Lord Bjorkun are on their way, and within a day’s march of Vanarpuri. But there is no news of the ronin, or of Omar.’
The two months since the last council of the Brotherhood of Renewal had been surprisingly pleasant for Kirin. No one had tried to kill him for a while now, and he had tried to use this opportunity to change a few things. A few asurs had started trickling into Vanarpuri from Imokoi, bearing weapons and news. Kirin, who’d always had a sneaking fondness for the asurs of Kol, found that the danavs weren’t really all that different. He also found that with asurs, his mind control powers worked really well – now that he was stronger, he could actually make them do things he wanted them to. No wonder Danh-Gem stopped sending asurs to attack ravians. They probably ended up attacking one another.
