The Guardians of the Halahala (30 page)

***

Ujjayini was reveling in the glow of twilight, the palace's western wall splashed vermillion, when Vishakha turned her head to look at the Healer.

At first this development went unnoticed; the Healer's eyes were closed as he sat on the floor by the queen's bedside, deep in meditation. The only other person in the bedchamber, the elderly nurse, had her back to Vishakha as she went about setting the small table for the queen's evening meal.

The silence within the bedchamber was in stark contrast to the hivelike activity that had prevailed earlier in the afternoon, when the Healer had been ushered in to take a look at Vishakha. The palace household, buoyed by expectation, had crammed itself into the room, while the passageways had ebbed and flowed with palace attendants eager to catch a glimpse of the happenings inside.

Once the Healer had made a cursory examination, he had asked for Vishakha's face to be treated with a sandalwood and turmeric salve. Drawing a tantric
mandala
on the floor by the bed, the Healer had placed a red hibiscus in each of Vishakha's hands, before seating himself in front of the
mandala.
Then, after uttering a few invocations and propitiating the Dasa-Mahavidyas, he had slipped into a meditative trance.

With the passing of the hours, the pulsing anticipation had dissipated, and people had slowly trickled out of the bedchamber and returned to their duties, Kshapanaka being the last to leave. Had she stayed a while longer, Kshapanaka would have been the one to observe her sister staring at the Healer, but as luck would have it, it was a servant bearing Vishakha's meal who noticed the change in her queen.

Barely breathing, her round eyes on Vishakha, the servant tiptoed over to the nurse.

“The queen...” she whispered.

“What?” The nurse turned sharply, catching the urgency in the maid's tone.

She gazed at Vishakha for a moment, eyes widening with excitement. Then, unburdening the servant of the tray, she leaned close to her ear.

“Fetch the queen mother,” she hissed. “Don't waste any time and don't tell anyone else about this. Now hurry.”

In a matter of minutes, Queen Upashruti and Kshapanaka were standing by the foot of the bed, looking indecisively from Vishakha to the Healer. Kshapanaka took a step toward her sister, but the Queen Mother placed a restraining hand on her shoulder. Shortly, they were joined by Vikramaditya and Dhanavantri, and the four exchanged anxious glances.

“Why is she staring at the Healer?” Vikramaditya asked, drawing Dhanavantri aside.

The physician shrugged in response.

“She looks a lot more alert,” murmured the king. “Should we try to get her attention?”

“No,” Dhanavantri shook his head vehemently. “Let us wait and see what's happening.”

Just then, the Healer opened his eyes. For a moment, he stared unseeingly in front of him, before raising his head to look at Vishakha. The queen's eyes locked with the Healer's fleetingly – and then, as if a spell had been broken, she blinked and turned to look at the other faces observing her. She displayed no signs of recognition, but the brightness in her expression and the mild curiosity in her eyes were completely new.

The royal household looked at the Healer for guidance. Seeing him incline his head, Queen Upashruti released her hold on Kshapanaka's shoulder. The princess went to her sister's side and reached out tentatively for her hand, but Vishakha pulled away, her face clouding with alarm. Kshapanaka's face fell, but withdrawing her hand, she proffered a reassuring smile.

Vishakha stared back, showing no intent at reciprocation. She then cast her doubtful eyes around the room before returning to Kshapanaka.

“Water,” she spoke clearly, even though her voice was that of a timid, frightened child.

As the room held its breath in anticipation, Kshapanaka leaned closer to Vishakha.

“Do you want some water?” she asked, choking with emotion.

Seeing her sister nod, tears rolled freely down Kshapanaka's cheeks. It was the first time Vishakha had responded to anything since that fateful, sunny morning.

“Water for the queen,” Dhanavantri looked at the nurse, feeling the lump in his throat.

A goblet of water was handed to Vishakha. She drank deeply, studying the ring of faces around her. At last, lowering the goblet, she looked from Kshapanaka to the Healer.

“Where am I?” she asked in a trembling voice.

“Among friends,” the Healer replied, placing a comforting hand on her head. “Now you must rest.”

As Vishakha slumped obediently onto the pillow, the Healer turned to Vikramaditya. “Let the queen rest, your honor.”

“What about her meal and her medications?” asked Dhanavantri.

“She can be given her meal. Your medications.” the Healer shrugged. “They won't harm her, I suppose. But sleep is what she needs most. Please make sure she sleeps well. I shall see her again tomorrow morning.” With that, he bowed and walked out of the room.

The samrat watched the Healer depart before turning his attention to the bed, where Vishakha was still appraising everyone in confusion. When their eyes met, Vikramaditya saw a slight frown develop on Vishakha's brow. As she looked away, he wondered what was going through her mind. Turning around, he followed the Healer out of the bedchamber.

“Can you tell me what has just happened?” Vikramaditya asked as he caught up with the retreating figure of the Healer. “Is her memory... returning?”

The Healer slowed to a halt and turned to the king. “Right now, the queen doesn't even know who she is, your honor,” he spoke patiently. “I've only brought her one step forward by making her conscious of her surroundings. It's going to take a while before things start coming back to her.”

“But they
will
come back, won't they?” The samrat's eyes, swimming with hope and anxiety, bored into the Healer's. “She will recover fully, won't she?”

The Healer smiled inwardly as he detected the desperation in Vikramaditya's tone. He liked it. It told him that he had been right in making the journey to Avanti.

“We will know only when she recovers fully, your honor.”

***

Shukracharya permitted himself another smile, this one more open, as he was in the privacy of the bedroom that had been furnished to him in the eastern wing of the palace.

The bedroom was large and well-ventilated, with a comfortable bed, though Shukracharya had preferred a palm leaf mat to sleep on. He now lay on this mat, hands crossed behind his head, staring up at the shadows that danced across the ceiling in the light of the low lamp. Outside, much of the palace had retired for the night, with only crickets and cicadas keeping the sentries and gatekeepers company.

She will recover fully, won't she?

Indeed she will recover, Samrat Vikramaditya, but only if you want her to badly enough. Indeed, she will recover, but only if you will give me what I have come for.

Not for a moment did Shukracharya doubt that the samrat badly wanted the queen to get well – the bones never lied, and he had seen evidence of the king's devotion in plenty all day. What he wasn't sure about was whether the king would be willing to trade the dagger for...

Shukracharya's thoughts were interrupted by a low knock on the carved wooden door of the bedroom. Raising his head, he looked at the door, unsure if he had heard correctly. Two low knocks, one following the other in quick succession, told him someone was at the door.

“Enter please,” he said. Getting up from the mat, he raised the lamp's wick as the door opened to admit a wiry figure of medium build. As the light fell on the figure, Shukracharya remembered seeing the man in the Throne Room, and later in Vishakha's bedchamber.

“Yes, what can I do for you?” he asked.

“I am Vararuchi, brother of Samrat Vikramaditya,” the man introduced himself as he approached Shukracharya. “I have heard of how the queen is showing signs of recovery after you examined her.”

“The road is long and filled with uncertainties, but I'm happy there's been some progress,” Shukracharya inclined his head. So this was Vararuchi – one of the councilors who battled and killed Andhaka. “Is there some way I can be of help to you?”

“Well...” Vararuchi hesitated. “You are... your healing powers are quite incredible, so I want... I would like you to come and visit my mother.”

“Your mother... You mean the queen mother? But she seems to be in fairly good health.”

A shadow flitted across Vararuchi's dark face, though Shukracharya couldn't tell for sure whether it was just the flickering light playing tricks.

“No, I meant
my
mother – the samrat and I are half-brothers. My mother isn't here in the palace.”

“I see.” Shukracharya processed this information, realizing it was something that could come in handy sometime. “What ails her?”

“Arthritis.”

“Easily remedied,” Shukracharya reassured. “How far away is your mother?”

“A two-hour ride to the west, across the holy Kshipra.”

“Shall we go and see her tomorrow evening then?”

“I would be grateful if you came. Thank you.” Vararuchi folded his hands, bowed and left the room.

Shukracharya returned to the mat, but instead of lying down, he drew his plain cotton traveling bag to him. Emptying the contents of the bag on the mat, he rummaged through the pile until he found the six pieces of human vertebrae he was looking for. Using a pinch of vermilion, he drew a
mandala
on the marble floor, before cupping the bones in hands and shaking them as he uttered a mantra.

Throwing the bones inside the
mandala,
he leaned forward and began studying the pattern, trying to divine something more about the man who had just paid him a visit.

There was something about the king's half-brother that tickled Shukracharya's curiosity.

Warnings

F
or longer than anyone in Vanga could remember, the tradition had been for the Grand Assembly to meet once every fortnight to debate policy matters with the utmost dignity and decorum. But that sunny morning in Tamralipti, both tradition and protocol had been uncharacteristically breached. For one, the Grand Assembly had been convened out of turn and at short notice; for another, the chiefs of the republic's eighteen principalities were all talking at once, shouting to make themselves heard over one another. The cool river breeze blowing through the assembly hall failed to dispel the apprehension and outrage hanging in the air.

“Calm down... Please calm down,” an official of the Assembly entreated. “Allow Chancellor Sudasan a chance to speak.”

“How can you ask us to calm down?” one of the chiefs who had gathered demanded hotly. “Dandakabhukti has been taken by the Magadhan army, and reports say nearly fifty of our soldiers and civilians have been killed there. God knows which one of us is next on their sights. How can we be calm when our safety is at risk?”

“Please... we are all here to discuss the matter,” the official urged.

“All we're going to do is
discuss
the matter?” asked another chief. “Who wants discussions? I want to know what is the Grand Assembly going to
do
about the matter.”

Before the official could reply, an elderly man who had been standing a little behind stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on the official's shoulder. The man had the bearing of a noble, his aged face lined with responsibility, yet his bright eyes were full of sagacity. With a slight incline of his head, the man indicated to the official that he was taking charge of the proceedings. As the official withdrew, the din in the hall petered down to a low murmur.

“Chiefs, you ask what the Grand Assembly is going to do about the matter,” he spoke in a stentorian voice as he smoothened down his thinning hair with his palm. “But you forget that you
are
the Grand Assembly... so only
you
can answer that question.”

The gathered heads shuffled their feet and exchanged sheepish glances. At last, one of the chiefs rose to his feet.

“Excuse us for the oversight, Chancellor Sudasan,” he said, addressing the man who had restored order in the hall. “Please understand that we are all worried with what's happened at Dandakabhukti. Me, most of all, as Dandakabhukti comes directly under my jurisdiction.”

“I share your concern, brother,” replied Sudasan. “That's why this Assembly has been summoned.”

“Do we know why Magadha has attacked us, Chancellor?” another of the chiefs asked. “And why Dandakabhukti has been captured?”

“We don't know, to be entirely honest. We have never meant Magadha any harm – we have never meant
anyone
any harm. Vanga has always maintained a cordial relationship with the kingdoms of Sindhuvarta.”

“Could it be that Magadha grudges the fact that we have offered shelter to the Kikata refugees?” the chief who had spoken first asked. “Magadha's old king is believed to have been killed by his Kikata bodyguard.”

“Why are we granting the Kikatas refuge in Vanga anyway?” demanded the chieftain under whose purview Dandakabhukti fell. Seeing heads nod in approval, he continued, “They are draining our resources and spreading disease... and because of them we have now incurred the displeasure of Magadha. We should send them back.”

“Send them back where?” asked Sudasan, conscious of the support that the idea had received. “Back to Magadha to be slaughtered? The Kikatas are a peaceful tribe and our association with them goes back a long way. Now they are being driven out of their homeland and have nowhere to go. We shouldn't let worry and fear impair our judgment.”

“So what do we do now? How do we find out what Magadha's motivations are?”

“We have already dispatched two senior emissaries to Dandakabhukti to meet the Magadhan army commander,” the chancellor replied. “It's possible the whole thing is only a terrible misunderstanding that can be resolved by sitting across the table.”

“And we haven't heard from the emissaries so far?”

“They left for Dandakabhukti only yesterday evening.”

“What happens if the emissaries return with the news that Magadha intends keeping up hostilities?”

As a wave of uneasiness washed through the hall, Sudasan took a deep breath. “In that eventuality, Vanga will have to prepare to defend itself. As a precautionary measure, we have already started strengthening our defenses around Dandakabhukti. The Assembly hereby proposes to increase troops across all the principalities that border Magadha with immediate effect. Further, the Assembly proposes that more troops be deployed to defend the towns of Chandrakanta, Medinipuri and Tamralipti.”

“We approve all your proposals,” the chiefs shouted almost in unison.

Sudasan nodded to one of the Assembly officials, signaling the passing of the resolution. As the official hurried out of the hall to execute the order, someone raised a question.

“Are we adequately equipped to defend the republic against an extended attack?”

The chancellor had been dreading that question. The Magadhan army was among the mightiest in Sindhuvarta, capable of posing a challenge in the best of times. Now with Dandakabhukti captured, the central armory in the town was also out of bounds, putting additional pressure on Vanga's army.

“Everything depends on the strength and intent of the Magadhan army,” he replied. “But to answer your question, we will have to retake Dandakabhukti and claim the armory if we are to survive a protracted war.”

Ominous looks were exchanged once again.

“Can't we seek assistance from kingdoms of Kalinga and Odra?” the chief of Dandakabhukti broke his silence. “They could help us.”

“We could try asking,” Sudasan said, though he didn't sound very hopeful. The problem was that Vanga had always remained neutral in conflicts, and while nonalignment was a clever little strategy that did away with the need to pick sides, it made it harder to seek committed alliances when trouble came calling at your door.

Just then, a small murmur broke out in one corner of the assembly hall. Turning around, the chancellor saw a soldier speaking to a couple of officials.

“What is the matter?” Sudasan raised his voice.

“The soldier is a rider from near Dandakabhukti, Chancellor,” one of the officials replied.

“Come down here, soldier,” Sudasan beckoned the soldier. “What have you got for us?”

“I bring news of the emissaries who were sent to Dandakabhukti yesterday, your honor,” the soldier said. “Their horses returned from Dandakabhukti this morning.”

“Their horses...? What about the two emissaries?”

“Your honor, the horses were dragging their bodies in the mud behind them.” As sharp intakes of breath sounded from around the room, the soldier continued, “Both of them were headless. We identified them through their official insignia... and this.”

Sudasan reached out for the scroll that the rider held in his extended hand. Even as his fingers closed over the scroll, the chancellor knew it was the official letter that the emissaries had taken with them, registering Vanga's protest at the infringement, and offering to resolve the issue through talks.

Opening the scroll, the chancellor looked at the splotches of dried blood that were splattered over the letter. At the bottom, scrawled with a quill dipped in blood, was a terse message.

Your emissaries have paid the price of trespassing through Magadhan territory. Stay clear of Dandakabhukti.

***

“Are you certain this Huna scout spoke of plans to attack us by sea?” Yugandhara considered Ghatakarpara with his gentle brown eyes.

“Yes, your honor,” the prince looked across the table at the Anarta chieftain and nodded.

The two men were seated in a private balcony situated high on the western corner of Yugandhara's palace in Dvarka, a lavish lunch spread out on the table between them. The bustle of the busy trading port was far below them, and the only sounds to be heard were the sighing of the wind and the occasional squawk of black-headed gulls.

Yugandhara leaned back, his brows furrowing as he concentrated on the problem. “But the Hunas and Sakas have no knowledge of the sea... It doesn't make sense.”

Ghatakarpara's eyes strayed out toward the blue expanse of water stretching away to the horizon, his expression reflecting the typical wonder of one who has spent his entire life in landlocked places. His mind was partly on the news of the deva and asura attacks on Avanti – of which he had learned through Yugandhara just hours earlier – so he didn't respond to the chieftain right away.

“Indeed it doesn't make sense,” the prince said finally. “But Councilor Amara Simha thinks the Hunas may have spent the last few years mastering the craft.”

“You don't understand,” Yugandhara shook his head. “Seamanship cannot be mastered by staying on land – one has to step aboard a ship and sail in the seas. We are seafarers...” he paused to sweep his hand in the direction of the bay, where half a dozen large ships could be seen anchored. “Ships from Anarta ply these seas every day, and the sailors are familiar with every cove and inlet along the coast on both sides. None of them has ever reported seeing Huna ships anywhere in these waters. Then, where are the ships that the Huna scout spoke of moored?”

Ghatakarpara shrugged, suddenly feeling foolish having come so far bearing news that was incorrect. The holes that Yugandhara was picking in the scout's story were now glaringly obvious.

“Navigating the smallest of vessels takes practice, and from what I know, the Hunas haven't been practicing at all,” the chieftain continued. “So, either the Hunas are extremely foolhardy to attempt naval warfare, or your scout was lying through his teeth. Unless... unless...”

As a new possibility suddenly crossed his mind, Yugandhara's expression changed, and he stared intently up at the balcony's domed ceiling. “...unless the Hunas have been perfecting the craft in the waters of the Dark River.”

From what they had heard the nomads tell, the people of Sindhuvarta knew that the Dark River flowed right through the middle of the Great Desert – where the Hunas and Sakas first came from, and where they returned to after being driven out of Sindhuvarta.

Ghatakarpara studied the chieftain carefully. Taking a deep breath of the salty air, he asked, “Is that possible?”

“It's possible. Sailing on a river is not the same thing as sailing in the seas, but it equips you with the necessary skills. And the Dark River is rumored to be a big river with powerful currents.” As the idea took root, Yugandhara's eyes grew wide with anxiety. “So yes, it's possible.”

“But wouldn't your sailors have known?”

“No sailor of Anarta ventures beyond the mouth of that accursed river whose foul waters gave birth to the Great Desert.”

The chieftain turned to stare at the ocean, screwing his eyes against the sun's glare reflecting off the deep water. If the Hunas did come as was being suggested, Dvarka would bear the brunt of the attack. Dvarka – the shining jewel, pride of the Anartas.

“Councilor Amara Simha has already dispatched a rider to Ujjayini, alerting the samrat to the potential threat you face,” said the prince, hoping to allay some of the chieftain's unease. “I'm sure the samrat will act on it and send forth reinforcements.”

Yugandhara nodded, thinking of the deva and asura attacks on Avanti. Vikramaditya was already dealing with a lot, and he wasn't sure the king would have time to spare for the Anartas' miseries. Staring gloomily at Ghatakarpara sitting across the table, Yugandhara realized he had suddenly lost his appetite for lunch.

***

“You sent word for me, mother?”

The Mother Oracle raised her head to see Vikramaditya standing inside the door of her room. She sat on a plain straw mat that had been laid out on the cool marble floor, a copper pestle and mortar in her hands. She nodded, and as the samrat entered the room, she returned to grinding the contents of the mortar. The king stopped in front of the old woman and waited patiently for her to speak.

“Do sit down,” the Mother Oracle finally gestured to a teakwood stool nearby. With a toothless grin she added, “It's your own palace.”

Vikramaditya smiled as he drew the stool forward and sat down. Yet, he made no attempt at interrupting the woman, watching her quietly as she pounded away with the pestle. After a few moments had passed, she tilted her head and assessed the king with shrewd eyes.

“I hear the queen is getting better?”

“Yes, she is showing some definite signs of recovery,” Vikramaditya's eyes brightened as he spoke. “She's still hardly speaking anything, but she appears to be more aware of what is happening around her... at least sometimes.” He paused as doubt crept back on him. “It's the best I've seen her in two years.”