by Andrea Ring
That wouldn’t do at all.
V. PRINCE KAI
I admit, I had a tearful reunion with my mother. But the heat of my anger at the gods quickly evaporated my tears.
Why do these things happen? Why would my mother be kept alive, a human shell full of nothingness? It’s a brand of cruelty unique to the gods. Human beings couldn’t dream up such senseless torture.
Shiva has much to answer for. He destroyed, but he did not remake. And that is not his style, so maybe Shiva isn’t the one I need to focus my anger on.
I grab my pack and call for my companions. Then I head for the stables.
Manoj is already there, counting oats.
Okay, he’s not actually counting individual oats, but he might as well be. He has the contents of his bag spread out on a blanket on the ground, and he’s mentally ticking each item off his travel list.
He looks up at me, eyes serious. “I only have enough coin for three weeks of travel. Perhaps your father will approve two more weeks’ worth. I do not want to be out of coin and sleeping on pine needles.”
I laugh. “I’m the prince. We won’t need coin at all. Every innkeeper we meet will fall all over himself to give us free board.”
“A true prince would not take advantage of his citizens thusly.”
I sigh. “If we run out of coin, I will send payment when we return home. What are you so worried about?”
Manoj stands and dusts off the knees of his trousers. “If you are killed, no innkeeper will be falling all over himself to shelter me and Faaris. What if it rains?”
I put my hand on my best friend’s shoulder. “Manoj, we will be gone for less than a week. Three weeks’ provisions will be more than enough. I think you’re actually worried about me.”
Manoj smiles sadly. “I’m no warrior, Kai. I can keep track of supplies, and I can scout a trail, but we’re not hunting boar. You should take another swordsman instead of me. I may be a liability.”
“You’re just fine with a sword,” I tell him, “and there’s no one on this earth I trust more than you. I’m counting on that sharp brain and those keen eyes to keep us all safe. And Faaris can handle ten men at once. You and I just need to stay out of his way.”
Faaris takes that moment to enter the stables, two swords strapped crisscross across his back.
“Ready to find this girl and save the kingdom?” he says with a grin.
I roll my eyes. “This is just another adventure for you, isn’t it?”
“It has the makings of one,” he says. “Assassins lurking. Two-day ride to a remote village, then another day’s hike into the Protector’s territory, where we might be smited down at any moment. A damsel in distress—”
“Smited down?” Manoj says.
“Or smoted. He could probably smote us. Or is it smoot us?”
Manoj snorts. “Smoot? Holy heavens, man, where did you learn to speak?”
Faaris ignores him. “As I was saying, a damsel in distress—”
“She’s not in distress,” I say. “She’s planning to be married. I’m the one in distress who has to convince her to give up her life and fall in love with me.”
Faaris laughs. “Then we’ll be smooted for certain.”
“Faaris, where is your pack?” Manoj asks.
“Right there,” he says, pointing at the pack in Manoj’s hand. “You probably packed for twelve. All I need are my swords.”
Manoj frowns. “You didn’t bring any undergarments?”
***
We finally get on the trail. While Manoj and Faaris banter back and forth, I go over the tasks before me:
1. Find a way to get Maja the Protector to allow us on his land.
2. Find Nilaruna and convince her to help me.
3. Watch out for assassination attempts.
4. Make Nilaruna fall in love with me.
5. Get married.
6. Get through my father’s funeral.
7. Watch the woman I marry die so that I may gain the throne and maintain stability in our kingdom.
8. Smoot Shiva for his role in this tragedy.
That’s the plan, the plan (minus #8) according to one of the most manipulative gods in our pantheon.
This is not the life I had planned for myself, and it is not the one I will live. Even if I die trying.
Letting a woman die for me, willingly or not, goes against every instinct in my body.
Shiva wants me to find Nilaruna, and he wants me to marry her, so I’m obligated to see how this plays out. This whole thing stinks of a setup, but I haven’t yet figured out the end game. Will Nilaruna be my salvation or destruction? I have no way of knowing.
I sent my father to the maiden barracks on the pretext of checking out the available girls. He’s accompanied by fifty swordsmen, the best in the land. An assassin arriving by boat will have to travel quite far and conspicuously to get to him.
I will eliminate #6.
So that leaves #7. Death by poison is one of the easier assassination methods to thwart. We simply prepare our own food, employ tasters, ban outsiders into the castle. I’m confident I can keep my bride safe, if she follows my instructions.
Is that who Nilaruna is? She’s a rural girl, most likely raised in the traditional manner. Her fiancé is probably the only man outside her family she’s ever spoken to. She’s probably obedient, deferential, used to taking orders. All of which will help me keep her alive.
But the will of the gods is not easily overcome.
I must change something else in this sequence of events to hope to change the outcome.
Shiva suggested I marry a girl so evil she deserved to die. That would presuppose that I do not love my bride, that I need not love her. That maybe not loving her is essential to Shiva’s outcome.
So what if I did love her?
I’ve always known I’d be marrying for duty. Our kingdom is more progressive than most, in that I am allowed to choose my own bride, rather than my father choosing for me. I never took this for granted. I planned to choose a woman who fit by my side, supported my decisions, and could be loved by the people of Jatani.
I also hoped for some kind of spark between us, because I vowed to never be like my father — in bed with my mistress while my wife drools in the next chamber. My bride deserves more respect than that.
I spend the next few hours dreaming of Nilaruna.
She’s fair-skinned, dark-haired, a brown-eyed beauty. She has a gentle spirit, a soft touch, a comforting gaze. I can whisper my thoughts to her, and she will echo them back to me, perfectly in tune. She can sing like a nightingale, play the harp like an angel, dance like the wind through the trees.
We fit.
I’ve never been in love before, but a woman like this…yes. She will be perfect. As Shiva said, she will be my salvation. And I will be hers. I will certainly fall in love with her.
VI. NILARUNA
I hesitate on the banks of the Swifty.
I’m going now, I think to Maja. Wish me luck.
Now remember, do not go hand-over-hand with the rope. Never let go, not even for a moment. Slide your hands along the rope as you go. And don’t look down. All the girls experienced vertigo if they looked at their feet. Keep your eyes forward, grip with your toes—
Maja, I’ll be fine, I think. I’ve already done this without any assistance from you. Stop worrying.
Never, he whispers in my mind.
I love you and will return, I whisper back. Have faith. I will return.
I love you, too.
I grip the slippery wet upper rope in both hands and carefully step on the lower one. I slide my way along, the spray from the rapids soaking my trousers. When I reach the end, I pause.
I’ve made it. I’m at the end. Take care, Maja. Truly.
Truly, he whispers back.
***
I eye the spot I need to jump to. It’s five paces further to my right than the trailhead directly in front of me, and it’s covered in pine needles rather than
dirt. I figure it will be easier to hide my presence if I drip water all over the needles rather than the dirt. Yes, it’s dark, but a mud puddle would clearly signal that someone has crossed the Swifty.
I don’t know if anyone is out here looking, but I have the advantage of surprise, and I don’t want to give it up easily.
I squeeze the rope one last time and fling myself into space. I actually land two paces further than I’d aimed for, my heel slips in something that smells suspiciously like animal excrement, and I land on my butt.
My parents own plenty of farm animals. I’m no stranger to their droppings. But I still crawl forward, dragging my heel behind me to try to rid myself of the foul stuff.
I finally hunch down behind a bush off to the side of the trail and listen.
Crickets. A slight breeze rustling the leaves in the trees. A small animal scuffling in the brush.
I settle back on my heels and wait. Maja and I agreed I should listen for ten minutes.
At minute six, my right leg begins to tingle.
At minute seven, I almost rise and continue, but then I hear footsteps. Measured footsteps, padding on the soft dirt of the trail. Maybe two hundred paces away.
I close my eyes and listen hard.
No heavy breathing, no whispered expletives. This person is at home in the woods and in good shape. Or maybe they live nearby, in a remote cabin or hut. Hermits, especially religious ones, are not unknown in these parts.
I continue to hear only the footsteps, an unbreaking stride, a natural gait. This person is familiar with the trail.
When he is about a hundred paces away, I shift only my head until I find the perfect vantage point from my hiding place. I want to see who it is.
He comes closer. Closer still. My heart pounds in my breast, and I pray he cannot hear it.
A man rounds the bend in the trail and his legs come into view.
Familiar legs, since I’ve spent much time looking at them instead of in their owner’s eye. I am such a pariah that I am not allowed to lift my head in the high priest’s presence, but in this case, I’m grateful for the custom.
How else would I be able to identify these hairy legs?
And what is the high priest doing here in the middle of the night?
He stops ten paces away from me, and I freeze.
Then clothing rustles, and another pair of legs, small and dirty, slide into view, and their feet hit the dusty path.
Larraj.
“Go, boy. We don’t have all night,” High Priest Sanji says.
Larraj takes a few tentative steps forward. “Can you come with me? It’s dark, and it smells bad.”
“I should have sent you to apprentice on a farm last summer. The you’d know how bad a smell can be. It’s nature, Larraj. Ignore it.”
“Thank Shiva I live in the temple,” Larraj says. “Can’t you come with me, just a little bit farther?”
“My eyes are useless past this point, you know that,” Sanji snaps. “Go now. We must make sure your future bride is safe.”
“I don’t wanna bride,” Larraj mumbles. “I mean, I like Nili, though, so I want her to be safe.”
“Don’t think about it now. Just check the Swifty and we’ll be off. Think of your nice warm bed.”
Larraj takes a deep breath. “Okay.” And he stomps forward.
“Dear gods, Larraj, quiet! There’s no need to go tramping around like an elephant!”
“What does it matter?” he asks. “No one’s here anyway.”
“You don’t know that!” Sanji snaps. “Now go quietly and hurry back.”
Larraj moves on, and I watch Sanji’s hairy legs. They don’t move a muscle.
“She’s not here,” Larraj yells, presumably from the banks of the river. Sanji sighs audibly.
Larraj quickly runs back. “She’s not here,” he repeats.
“Has anyone crossed the Swifty?” Sanji asks. “Was the bank wet?”
“No,” he says. “The trail’s dry.”
“Hop back up, then. Quickly. We’ll get you to bed, and we’ll visit the Nandals tomorrow afternoon.”
Larraj climbs on Sanji’s back, and they head down the trail.
“Will Shrimati Nandal give me sweets? She always gives me sweets.”
“If you’re a good boy, Larraj, most likely you will get a sweet.”
“May I light the fire when we return to the temple?”
“I’m sure it’s already lit.”
“Should I be quiet now?”
“Yes, you should always be quiet, Larraj.”
As if.
I wait, still frozen in place, until my heartbeat calms and I can take a deep silent breath. Only then do I straighten and stretch my cramped muscles.
I can still hear Sanji’s footsteps, very faintly. He’s not being as deliberately silent as he was before. He believes they are alone.
It sounded as though they came to check on me, in an altruistic sense. They wanted to ensure I wasn’t drowning in the rapids.
But then why come in the middle of the night? Knowing the Go-Betweens’ fates, no one in the village would think it odd if someone looked for me. There’s no need for secrecy.
Unless…
Either the high priest knows someone is out to get me and does not want to alert that person, or he is out to get me himself.
But that assumes something nefarious is going on, which is a fair assumption given the deaths of the previous Go-Betweens and the spell that was set upon me.
But I’ve also been gone for a long time. I could have died in Maja’s cave, and no one would be the wiser. Maybe Sanji is weighing whether or not to send a new Go-Between. Maybe he is truly worried about me.
Truly?
I have no idea.
VII. THE KING
I wipe my tears and blow my nose on the edge of my tunic.
Kai doesn’t hate me. He understands. That is the greatest gift I’ve been given as a father.
“Shiva, damn it, don’t keep me waiting!” I scream into the air.
Shiva appears before me with a bow. “Have a care, my king. I may be required to do your bidding, but disrespect me, and I will keep you waiting for an eternity.”
“If you think you can bully me, Shiva, you can’t. I’m about to die. Your threats mean nothing.”
“As long as Kai lives, I can bully you. We both know it.”
I sigh and pace the room. Why must Shiva make everything so difficult?
“Fine. Status report.”
“Kai is off to Dabani with Manoj and Faaris. They’re well and will face no trouble on their travels. The problems will begin when they reach the village.”
“And you’re sure this girl is the right one? This Nilaruna?”
Shiva grins. “You asked me to test Kai. You knew you were dying, and you didn’t think the kingdom of Jatani would accept him as king easily, since he’s been in no war campaigns, slain no dragons, rescued no kittens from trees. You wanted me to make him a hero. And I shall.”
The pulsing headache I always have now blooms into a fierce throb. I long to hold my head in my hands and squeeze the pain away, but I will not do that in front of Shiva.
But he knows anyway. He nods sympathetically.
“You have about fifty-two days, give or take a few hours. But you won’t be conscious after forty-five.”
I nod. “I’ve had a second bed placed in Silvia’s room. Seems fitting that we die together.”
“So you’ve decided on murder for your wife,” Shiva says. It’s a statement. He already knows what I plan to do.
“It’s mercy, not murder,” I say. And I know that this is true. If I’m not here to see to my wife’s care, I will end her life.
Not her life — that was taken years ago. Her existence.
Shiva kicks at the corner of the carpet. “Not every decision has been made,” he says. “There’s room for error, or disaster even. I can’t stop it.”
“I know,” I say. “We have free will. You only know t
he future once a decision has been made. We’ve been over this.”
“Kai is contemplating falling in love with his new bride,” Shiva says. “That will complicate things. Love makes people do strange things, and I may not know the future until it happens.”
“That’s good,” I say. “Love is good. I wish I’d been capable of it from the beginning with Silvia. It may have changed her fate. And mine.”
“You’ve finally figured that out, huh?”
“Oh, I’ve known it for years,” I say wearily. “I’ve just finally learned to admit it.”
VIII. PRINCE KAI
We arrive on the outskirts of Dabani around midday, and a kindly farmer gives us directions to the nearest inn.
I give him two gold coins and ask him if he is acquainted with the Nandals.
“You mean Ravi Nandal? He is our healer, the main one, I mean. Are you injured, my lord?”
I explain that I’m looking for his daughter, Nilaruna, who volunteered to be the new Go-Between.
The farmer visibly shudders. “We don’t speak about her, sir. She’s unclean.”
Manoj and Faaris both turn wide eyes on me. I school my face. “Unclean? In what way?”
I must have uttered my words more forcefully than I intended, because the farmer cowers and goes down on his knees, head bent.
“I’m sorry, my prince, truly sorry. I did not mean to offend you by speaking of an untouchable.”
“I’m not offended,” I say, “I simply wish for more information. Tell me what you know.”
“She is deformed, your highness,” he says, eyes still on the ground. “There was a fire. Her older brother died in it. Nilaruna was burned to a blackened…well, uh, she was burned, sir, over half her body.”
“When was this?” I demand.
“Oh, five cycles…no, longer. Maybe seven or eight cycles ago.”
“How deformed is she?” Faaris asks, and I glare at him. I want to know this as well, but I never would have asked it.
“We don’t look at untouchables, sir, I mean, we’re not supposed to look.”
“But you’ve looked,” I say.
The farmer shifts uncomfortably. “My daughter took a fever last year…we went to Ravi…Nilaruna was doing chores nearby.” He lifts his head and looks me in the eye. “It’s difficult not to look.”
