Adhiyavan

  The doors opened. Amirtha stepped through—elegant, jewelled, the ruby-eyed mountain-goat crown flashing on her brow. Anklets and waist-chain chimed with every slow step. She dismissed the servants with a flick of her fingers.

  “You still don’t look like a Chakran commoner,” she said, her hands moving to my cheeks. “You still very much resemble the Emperor.”

  She draped the large white cotton cloth over my shoulder. Standing beside me, she studied our reflection in the mirror. “Now you look like a commoner.”

  I walked to the wooden swing in the centre of my chamber, sat, and began removing my jewellery, starting with the pearl chain.

  “This is the first time you are speaking to me. I hope it is important and not merely to comment on my disguise.”

  The confidence on her face melted into something close to fear. She composed herself, walked to the window, and gazed out at the fort’s walls and the men guarding them.

  “I hope you know what you are about to do.”

  I stood and joined her. “The smartest Chakran is afraid of a war?”

  Amirtha kept her back to me. “War… and women. Especially Ankala women.”

  “Your tiny spies only told you about Sikala?”

  At that moment the gates below opened. The Gandar Squad marched in. Amirtha turned.

  “The Useless Squad. Everyone hates them—useless like their leader.”

  I had created the Gandar Squad when I returned from the gurukulam, ostensibly to collect taxes and serve the crown. Mocking them was a direct attack on me. I refused to rise to it.

  “Not everyone is as smart as you.”

  I returned to the swing. Amirtha tossed a scroll onto the seat. I stared at her, then unrolled it.

  “Safest route to Chendurai: cross the Chenna river, take the Veedhi-Vangal route, never go via Agam forest, reach Anniyur—the last town in the Chakra Empire—and from there you are on your own.”

  I tucked the scroll away and left.

  I reached the far side of the palace and entered my mother’s chamber. Empress Parandvani welcomed me with a smile. The Crown Empress was busy with tax-collection statements while the Gandar Squad stood at attention. Katamaran, their leader, knelt. I raised him by the shoulders.

  My mother glanced at the scroll bearing Amirtha’s sigil. “So you met the viper.”

  I touched her feet and rose. “Follow that map. Don’t deviate. As much as I hate her, she is a smart one.”

  My mother stepped forward and studied the portraits of the great emperors lining the wall.

  “You know our history. What you are about to do—if you succeed—you will be the greatest among these. You have my blessing.”

  “I don’t think Ankala will accept our terms after what our Emperor did to them two years ago. But I will proceed. This will be a great voyage to learn about my kingdom… and the island.”

  The stable was the most peaceful place in the fort. I rubbed Thelan’s forehead, checked the saddle, and led my black stallion—Sikala’s gift—toward the gates. It was the first time in two years I had left the fort.

  The roads spiralled downward, wide and guarded. Merchants sold roasted corn and buttermilk. Guards grew lazier the lower we went. At the plain I mounted and galloped across the farmlands of Vbai harvest until the sun burned high. We halted at the temple in Valoor.

  I borrowed a clay pot from a girl who smiled and offered to carry it. We walked back to Thelan together.

  “What’s your name, young lady? Thank you for helping me and Thelan.”

  “Hagathi. I spend the day cleaning the temple and praying to get married soon. The temple is giving prasad. Come.”

  She pulled me inside. Sandalwood, flowers, incense. When my turn came, the priest pressed blessed rice into my palm. We sat on the stone mandapam.

  “So, Hagathi, are you from Valoor?”

  Mouth full: “No, Vangudi. My father is the famous blacksmith Vangudi Koman. You look like a commoner, so I guess you wouldn’t know. They say war is coming. Please, God, no.”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “Yes, of course I’m a commoner. War, really?”

  She set the rice down, suddenly sharp. “Yes, war! Why are you afraid of war?”

  She swung her legs, leaned closer. “Who are you? What’s your prayer? And how can you afford a horse?”

  “I am Adhi of Anniyur. Gandar Squad. Heading home.”

  Her face soured. “Ew, the beggars? Sorry, that’s what we call them here.”

  “Fair enough. I called them that too, once.”

  The sun was setting. Hagathi looked at me with innocent eyes.

  “Can you travel with me to Vangudi? I came alone today.”

  A request I couldn’t refuse.

  We walked into the woods, talking of husbands and marriages. The road narrowed.

  “I’ve never ridden a horse.”

  “You will not ride one today either. Why did you help me this morning—with the water?”

  “You looked weak,” she said.

  Something felt wrong, but I was still in my kingdom.

  Birds returned to their nests; light bled from the sky. My hand rested near the throw knife. Her hair-bun pin was longer than usual.

  In a blink I had her pinned to a tree, forearm across her throat, the pin now a naked urumi blade in my fist.

  “How many more?”

  She laughed through the choke. “You will die, Prince!” Then she slammed her own skull against the trunk again and again until blood ran and she went limp.

  I hid Thelan, crouched behind a rock.

  Hours later three short, dark men arrived—Sathyeran by blood, Chakran by tongue. The leader wept over Hagathi’s body. The others fanned out.

  I ghosted behind the nearest, clamped his mouth, opened his throat. The second took my throw knife between the eyes. I stepped toward the leader.

  “Don’t try to look like a warrior.”

  He drew his blade and slit his own throat without hesitation.

  I searched the body. A scroll.

  Thunder cracked overhead as I unrolled it: a painting of me, two years younger, signed in Sikala’s hand.

  Hyenas growled. I slowly pulled Thelan and walked away, watching the hyenas feast from a distance. A lone wolf crossed my path, head bowed, sniffing rocks before crossing the road. A pack might follow; my senses needed to stay sharp until I cleared these woods. Hagathi’s last words echoed in my mind. Her eyes had been wide open, still slowly breathing. The sound of an owl, the crack of broken branches under Thelan’s hooves.

  The road ended at a bush. Clearing bushes with a throw knife is hard—I had learned that the hard way. At last my feet stood on a farm-field ridge.

  Vbai harvest month. Paddy was heaped in one corner. The ridge was narrow and completely dark. Slow, small steps were the only way, but we needed sleep before crossing the Chenna at dawn. A small red spot in the far distance signalled a village.

  After walking for hours, I reached the village’s common stone bench. Thelan growled. An ox cart approached and stopped near me. The bullock-cart driver looked like a sick man who hadn’t eaten in years—skin tugged tight to his ribs, bent back, shirtless, pupils milky white.

  From behind the white screen slid a fat hand heavy with golden bracelets and rings on three fingers. Then a head poked out: a rich man with fat cheeks, big white moustache, a turban bearing a ruby stone at the centre and golden chains running around it.

  “Adhiya—what are you doing here at this time?”

  “So, I need royal permission to see my uncle?”

  “Shut up and come home, my nephew.”

  “Chieftain’s home? No thanks. Vangudi Uncle’s home—yes.”

  We reached the house together. He sat near me, placed the Chakran royal sword aside, and removed the turban.

  Vangudi Vadivu—in short, Vadivu—served us hot food while servants tended to Thelan. Behind the wall I glimpsed a shy foot. I looked up; she turned back with a smile. Vanathi—Vangudi Vanathi—my traditional childhood betrothed. After eight years, I was seeing her again this night.

  My eyes stayed fixed on the wall, ignoring all the blabbering from my uncle. She turned again. Her diamond nose-piercing shone in the night. The fire-torch light gave a warm tone to her pale skin. She slowly turned once more as a servant crossed her path.

  “War with Sathyera.”

  “Huh, Uncle?”

  “Yes. You have my full support, nephew. My son Bila is now a trained warrior.”

  Vadivu aunty’s face soured.

  “I have asked him to come at dawn to meet his future king.”

  “Oh, Uncle, I’m leaving for the Chenna river at first light. Don’t bother.”

  “Just say it—you don’t like him and his foreign mother. I won’t bother you, but don’t leave early. If your mother came to know this, she would hang me.”

  “I’ll let her do that.” I threw Hagathi’s pin onto the floor. “Urumi—in our kingdom?”

  “I’ve got bigger problems.”

  I walked to the backyard to wash my hands and legs. Water was stored in a big brass vessel with a brass mug beside it. A washing stone and patches of small grass made up the backyard. The full moon hung in the middle of the sky—only a few hours until first light.

  I turned, and my nose brushed Vanathi’s oiled hair. Middle-parted, pale skin, sharp eyes, a single red cloth saree, a golden pin on her shoulder. She offered the end of her saree pallu to wipe my hands.

  “You look like a beggar.”

  “Not everyone is fortunate enough to be born the richest chieftain’s daughter.”

  I stepped closer, tucked the pallu end into her hip, and moved her behind the wall.

  “Jasmine oil?”

  “Yes—saved for special occasions.”

  I lifted her chin and looked into her eyes.

  “It’s been eight years. You haven’t changed a bit.”

  She leaned against the wall and smiled. “Really?”

  “You visited the fort last year and ignored me. Now what?”

  “Oh—you did see me! I heard your eyes only saw Ankala’s queen.”

  “Call me blind!”

  She smiled, ran past, and whispered, “I haven’t accepted your apology yet!” before disappearing into the kitchen.

  I went to the hall and saw a fit young man standing outside near the stable, talking to my uncle. As I approached, he drew his sword, planted it in the ground, and knelt.

  “I am not your prince yet. Stand up.”

  He looked different, yet had somehow become a warrior.

  “Come, let’s go in.”

  The hesitation on their faces was clear. I nodded and stood near them.

  “He serves in the Aadhi Regiment, but you know…”

  Surprised, I nodded.

  “We will meet soon, warrior… and cousin.”

  I walked in. Before entering my room I heard a soft voice.

  “He is good. Don’t be like the others,” Vanathi mumbled.

  I paused for a second until she left the room, then closed the door.

  I was up before first light, bathed, and walked to the stable. Bila was cleaning Thelan’s hooves.

  “You don’t need to do that, cousin.”

  He placed his hand on his chest and bowed his head.

  “I’d rather be called a warrior, my prince.”

  “I understand your pain. I hope the Aadhi Regiment treats you well. We will meet again, cousin.”

  I turned. Vanathi hugged me suddenly.

  “Don’t leave me here when you come next time.”