More Tales of the Southern Kingdoms (One Volume Edition)

by Barbara G. Tarn

  "In Agharek, praying to come back," he answered. Not to the bully now in front of him, but to his sweet sister and "dumb cousin" who'd been his only true friends way back when. He'd been a dreamy, reclusive boy the others usually shunned. That was why Lokesh's younger sister and their supposedly dumber cousin gave him more attention that Lokesh himself.

  Hrithikesh had fallen in love with Pareevash because she'd never minded his shyness – unlike everybody else. And he didn't think Farhan was dumb, just different, much like himself. He must head for the blacksmith's shop and see how Farhan had been as soon as possible.

  "And now you're back. Still want to play with my sister? She's a tough one. You can ask the guys, including Kiran, here." Lokesh sounded sarcastic.

  "I'd take her without a dowry," he said, ignoring the sarcasm. He had learned to reply confidently to useless provocations. He might have blushed and stammered when he was younger, but now Lokesh didn't intimidate him anymore.

  "Good for you, but is she going to take you?" Lokesh asked. His companion – Hrithikesh thought he recognized Ali, Lokesh's best friend since childhood – chuckled. "Let's go, Ali, Hrithikesh is not a threat."

  Hrithikesh congratulated himself for recognizing the other young man, while Kiran snorted.

  "Someone should kick their asses," he muttered. "Let's go, Hrithik, my mother is waiting for us."

  Hrithikesh was beginning to think his military training might turn out useful after all. It wasn't common knowledge, but Zindagi's were warrior-monks. He was sworn to protect life and never shed blood, hence the military training. Lots of physical exercise balanced against the studies and prayers. It had given him the muscles women had admired on the way to Leland that now were carefully hidden under layers of clothes.

  And it was just as well. There were too many unhappy people in Leland and too many bullies. Maybe someone should do something about it, and it would be better if they didn't know who it was...

  ***

  Hrithikesh spent the next few days reorienting himself in his hometown. He found old acquaintances, and a lot of disgruntled artisans and traders, who wanted to move away but didn't have the money, or the guts to leave everything behind like his father had done. Packing a family and its few belongings and moving didn't guarantee a better life.

  He also caught glimpses of Lord Kibriya, passing on his horse or ordering people around, usually with Lokesh in his wake. Pareevash's brother always smirked when he saw him, but he ignored the provocation. Thank Zindagi, Lokesh never saw him talking to Pareevash.

  Hrithikesh also looked for a job since the courtship of Pareevash was slow-paced. She was very busy at her uncle's shop, and finding time to talk to her during his first days in town proved almost impossible.

  It was actually easier to stop by the blacksmith's shop and chat with Farhan. His one and only childhood friend welcomed him back with open arms, asked for news, looked dejected upon hearing Kareena was married, and surprised that Hrithikesh hadn't found a suitable bride at the capital.

  "Well, that's why I came back here," Hrithikesh confided as they stepped away from the forge to let Farhan's uncle work. Farhan was bare-chested and sweaty, and welcomed the pause as he guided Hrithikesh to the well for a quick drink.

  "Ah, I see." Farhan brightened. "So you're keeping your promise."

  "You remember it?" Hrithikesh couldn't believe his ears. And this was supposed to be the "dumb cousin"? Farhan had recognized him immediately, remembered very well all of his family members and was even present when he'd said good-bye to Pareevash, so he'd heard the promise. And Lokesh still called him "dumb"?

  "I do." Farhan winked. "Although I know you didn't come back for me."

  Hrithikesh chuckled nervously. "Well, now I can say I missed you," he said, giving him a bear hug. "Did you talk much about me in the last fifteen years?"

  "We did at first." Farhan grinned. "Me and Pareevash, of course. But then life goes on, we met other people... You know I had a crush on your sister?"

  "I do now." Hrithikesh smiled fondly at him.

  "Well, you can't wait forever... And then I met other women..." Hrithikesh knew his friend was happily married now, and had two children.

  "I met a few myself, but my mind was set on Pareevash." He sighed. "And I don't seem to be able to get through to her."

  "She's very fond of you," Farhan told him. "But she's probably stuck with her memories. She considers you an elder brother or something, much like fifteen years ago."

  Hrithikesh moaned in desperation. No wonder she still treated him like when they were children. As if time hadn't passed for her as well.

  Talking to Farhan felt as if years hadn't gone by, and Hrithikesh realized how much he'd missed having a true friend. He was glad to have found Farhan who seemed to be the only one without complaints against Lord Kibriya in spite of having a very pretty wife.

  "Does the governor have children?" Hrithikesh asked one night, while sitting at his uncle's table after the evening meal. He knew Lord Kibriya was married, but since he didn't have access to the palace, he hadn't met his wife or his family.

  "No, but his brother does," Uncle Raju answered. "Why?"

  "Do you think they might need a tutor?"

  "Um... they might. You can also try the other noble families..."

  "I wouldn't mind getting closer to the governor himself. I might be able to help."

  "With words?" Aunt Jasmine scoffed. "That man understands only the power of weapons."

  And I can give him that, if necessary, Hrithikesh thought.

  "We'll see," he said with a smile and a shrug.

  He was lucky enough to be hired to teach Imran, the teenaged nephew of the governor who lived at the palace with his family. It was the perfect excuse to go there every day and see more of Lord Kibriya's behavior.

  Imran was a bright student, but he preferred the sword lessons with his uncle to books. Since Hrithikesh had been there, he found a way to teach his pupil the more boring subjects in a way that entertained the teen so much, that soon Imran invited him to one of his uncle's social gathering to show off his new knowledge in public.

  If Imran's parents were pleasantly surprised, his uncle scoffed and then ignored him.

  "He thinks scholars are useless," Imran confided, a little disappointed.

  "You shall prove him wrong, my lord." Hrithikesh sounded reassuring, but cold anger ran in his veins.

  He soon lost all respect for the man who gave lavish parties for his friends while he nearly starved the rest of the town. In his head, Hrithikesh started using only the governor's first name, especially since Kibriya showed contempt for him, thinking him a scholar who couldn't hold a sword. The governor was so proud of his swordsmanship that he often boasted he didn't need bodyguards – and he didn't, since he was indeed skilled. Hrithikesh attended one of his pupil's lessons and saw how good he was.

  A week after his arrival into town, Hrithikesh retired to sleep before Kiran and unpacked the last of his things. He sat on his pallet and studied them: a brass wheel – a throwing weapon borrowed from the Assassin's Guild – and a saber, plus the curved blade he had taken off the pole-arm, leaving the weapon disguised as a plain walking stick.

  He reassembled it by sliding the blade into the wooden shaft and securing it with an iron peg that passed through a hole. He rose and cut the air in the room as if he were training again.

  He could be the avenging spirit of the town. But for his safety and that of his uncle's family, nobody should know who he was. He removed the curved blade from his pole-arm and hid the weapons again in his pack.

  He took stock of his clothes – spare tunics, another pair of pants and a night caftan – and pursed his lips. Too many garments hindered movement, especially the shirt, tunic and coat. The baggy pants were fine, but his upper body was hindered by the layered clothing. Pity he hadn't brought his training garb.

  He picked up his hooded vestment – a temple garment he wouldn't use in the streets – and ripped of
f the sleeves. He also cut off the lower part, again for freedom of movement. It was a pity, but if he went back to Agharek, he'd get a new one anyway, since the green robe was the color of students and novices. He admired his work and then slid it over his naked torso, closing the two buckles – it was still loose enough to allow him to move freely.

  To disguise his face, he grabbed a scarf and covered his mouth and nose. Then pulled up his hood and checked himself in the mirror. He looked fierce, and not monastic at all. He tried on the shoulder-strapped scabbard, unsheathed the saber and swung it a couple of times.

  It will have to do. He tried some moves with both weapons and felt comfortable enough in the hooded vestment and baggy pants. Satisfied, he took everything off and hid it in his pack with the weapons.

  Starting tomorrow I'll have a second, secret job.

  Kiran came into the room as he was putting on his night caftan.

  "I thought I'd find you in bed."

  "I prayed a little," he lied. "But now I'm wrecked."

  "So am I." Kiran yawned as he undressed. "Good night, cousin."

  "Good night." Hrithikesh lay down and for the first time didn't fall asleep with Pareevash on his mind.

  ***

  The hooded man appeared first in the market square, forcing wealthy customers to pay the right price for their goods. His pole-arm was usually enough of a threat, although in some cases – where the rich buyer put up resistance – he had to show the other end of the shaft, where the seal of Goddess Zindagi was embedded.

  The usually hidden seal was imbued with a minor spell that left a burning sign on the skin. Nothing dangerous or life-threatening, but a mark of Zindagi's wrath for all to see – although Hrithikesh never struck on a person's bare face or hands.

  Next, he stole the guards' pay and left the symbol of the goddess inside the safe. Many artisans and other needy citizens found small purses of money at their doors.

  "He's an avenging spirit!" the lower class whispered with awe.

  "He's a bandit!" the noble and wealthy screamed. "Catch him and throw him in prison!"

  The governor seemed only mildly irritated, as if the hooded man were just a nuisance. He paid the guards from his own coffers and sent them on the hunt.

  But the hooded man was everywhere and nowhere, seeming to vanish after every stunt or tease or robbery. He moved so fast, many thought he was a spirit. He was nimble and strong, and when he swung his pole-arm, he looked like a real warrior, even if he never took a life.

  Ten days after the hooded man first appeared, the tax collector was expected any day and the coffers for the king were still half-empty. The upper class gathered at the palace to protest, since they'd have to contribute extra, if they didn't want the king to show up and deliver true justice.

  Hrithikesh knew the palace quite well by now, and since his pupil was in the great hall with his parents and hadn't requested his presence, he decided it was the right time to change into the hooded man and take on the governor himself. When he squeezed in the room, everybody was talking at the same time, and Kibriya was losing his patience.

  "Silence!" he shouted. The noise became a grumble, then slowly stopped under the governor's glare.

  "I know you're angry," Kibriya continued. "Do you think I'm happy? A single man is stealing our money and my guards are too stupid to catch him!"

  He glared at Lokesh and a few others who stood to the side with blank expressions.

  "I won't pay you next month if you don't find him and bring him to me," he threatened.

  "We've never seen his face! How can we catch him?" Lokesh protested, too outraged to be afraid to argue with the governor. Hrithikesh thought Lokesh was a fool. Brave, but a fool. He dropped his tunic to the floor to wear the hooded vestment.

  "He's just one!" Kibriya exclaimed, furious. "How can he always get away from all of you?"

  Because I'm better. Hrithikesh wrapped the scarf around his head and pulled up the hood before slowly moving along the wall towards the governor, keeping the pole-arm low. Everybody was riveted and didn't think of looking his way. The small crowd covered him from the governor and the guards facing him.

  "You're a bunch of incompetents! I'll hire real mercenaries from now on!"

  "And where will we find them, and how will we pay them?" Kibriya's brother protested.

  "Why don't you sack that useless tutor for your son and help me pay real soldiers?" Kibriya snapped.

  "Oh, more unemployed people is not going to help, governor." Hrithikesh was close enough to Kibriya now that when he pulled up the pole-arm like a lance, the point of the blade touched the governor's throat.

  Kibriya stiffened as he came forward, and everybody shrank back in fear.

  "You'd better tell your guards to drop their weapons," Hrithikesh continued, the curved blade ready to cut Kibriya's throat.

  Some weapons fell to the floor, but Lokesh and a couple of others held their sabers ready.

  "Do you really think these incompetent fools can protect you?" Hrithikesh asked.

  Kibriya clenched his teeth and narrowed his eyes, calculating, then said, "Drop your weapons."

  Lokesh snarled, and then all weapons clanged on the tiled floor.

  "Thank you. Now you should apologize to these poor people who are just doing their job. You should have trained them better if you wanted them to be more professional."

  Hrithikesh knew Kibriya trained his men himself, and not with blunt blades. Some probably hadn't survived the training, since he was a very skilled swordsman. He now sat with his hands on his knees, but Hrithikesh knew he must not allow him to unsheathe his sword if he didn't want a bloodbath.

  "Lokesh, take the governor's sword and throw it with the rest," he said bluntly. Ordering Lokesh around after being bullied by him felt good, but Hrithikesh kept his emotions in check.

  Lokesh unwillingly obeyed. As he was about to drop the saber with the others, he suddenly turned and attacked.

  Hrithikesh swiftly turned the shaft of the pole-arm, whispering, "Tum zinda ho" to activate the spell on the seal, and hit Lokesh with it.

  The seal burned Lokesh's skin near his navel and he was thrown back with a scream. Before Kibriya could move, the curved blade of the pole-arm was at his throat again. Ali rushed to Lokesh's side, but the young man was only dazed, not wounded.

  "You're fast," the governor said. "Who trained you?"

  "Not you." Hrithikesh smirked behind his scarf. "Now you will behave, governor. Stop abusing your men and your citizens, or I'll come back."

  Kibriya scoffed. "And then what, you'll take my life?"

  "I don't kill. But I might put the seal of the goddess on your forehead. You'd be marked for life for all to see."

  "Bastard," Kibriya muttered through gritted teeth.

  "You have enough money to pay the due taxes without starving this town," Hrithikesh continued. "Either you become the good governor we all wish we had, or you'll be a marked governor forever. Your choice."

  He looked Kibriya in the eyes, waiting for a quick nod of acknowledgment.

  When it came, he said, "Thank you." Then he took the blade away from the governor's throat. "Nice talking to you."

  He sprinted for the window and jumped out: Before anyone realized it, he was gone. He wasn't happy to have burned his future brother-in-law, but Lokesh had asked for it.

  Now we'll see if words are enough or if I need to be tougher...

  He removed the blade from the staff and took off the scabbard, wrapping the weapons in the scarf. He put them under his arm and lowered the hood as he mingled in the crowd. Time once again to become the "useless tutor" and hear how his pupil would relate the encounter.

  ***

  Imran had said the only person in the palace who wasn't mad at the hooded man was his Aunt Babra, so Hrithikesh decided to pay a visit to the governor's wife in his masked identity.

  He climbed the wall of the women's garden with the help of his pole-arm, then entered Lady Babra's apartment. She w
as seated on a pile of cushions with a book in her hands. She seemed startled to see the hooded man in her rooms, but not frightened. She gasped and her eyes widened at the sigh of him, but she didn't call for help.

  "My lady." He bowed respectfully. "Forgive the intrusion, may I have a word with you?"

  "If you wish." She pointed at the carpet in front of her with a tentative smile.

  He sat on his heels in front of her like he'd done in the temple of Zindagi for so long. She was older than him and of a quiet beauty not enhanced by jewelry or make-up. Even her fabrics were plain for a governor's wife.

  "How long have you been married, my lady?" he asked.

  "Thirteen years," she answered.

  "And no issue?"

  "No."

  "Does that bother you?"

  "No."

  "Does your husband?"

  She shook her head. "I don't care what he does. We've been strangers for years."

  "So why do you stay with him?" he asked, tipping his head to the side.

  "What choice do I have?" she replied, amused. "In this society, a woman can only be three things. A wife, a whore or a nun. I chose the lesser evil. I'm married to a nobleman and have the freedom to pursue my interests, what else should I look for?"

  Hrithikesh thought about Pareevash, who was still unmarried and fighting for her right to remain free. Lady Babra was right, though – sooner or later Pareevash would have to choose a man. Or a divinity. Being unmarried shamed her family.

  "My lady, do you have any influence in the household?" he inquired, knowing sometimes noblewomen had more power than their husbands. He'd met one at the capital – she was beautiful and smart, and had her husband wrapped around her finger.

  She scoffed. "Gods no! Everything I own is in these rooms and I don't see Kibriya very often." She smiled at him. "And don't worry, I won't tell him of your visit." She winked.

  Startled at first, Hrithikesh bowed since she couldn't see his grin. "Thank you, my lady. Do you have any complaints?"

  "No, I don't," she answered. "You have enough on your plate already. And you're not a spirit, even if you have a magic weapon. You're not invulnerable, nor immortal. Don't take on more than you can handle. I'd hate to see you hang in the main square."