Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
I return to the mortal realm on a wisp of Amaravati’s wind.
Maybe it is that I am pining for my city already. Maybe it is because I never expected to leave home so soon. Perhaps it is the taste of Rambha’s lips, reminding me of how I have been taken from her again, how much depends on this mission. Whatever it is, I stare at the silent forest I arrive in with revulsion, immediately seeing it for an enemy.
Unlike Amaravati, the mortal realm does not gleam with magic. Chandra’s moonlight provides the only luminosity, streaming from the sky, illuminating a patch of grass here, a clearing there. Small creatures run somewhere, the sound of their feet skittering on dry leaves. A hoot of a night owl sounds close to me, then a swish of wings rustles my hair.
The nakedness of it, without any gilding or reserve, unravels me. My magical tether that bloomed in Amaravati is replaced by a flat line. It happens each time I leave the city, and I clutch my jewels for comfort, pearls running smooth under my touch, trying to absorb the power in them, yet I cannot help but wonder. Will any of it be enough? I do not know what shape Kaushika’s seduction will take. All Rambha said is that he is older than me by nearly five years, warning me that although I am an immortal, he has lived longer. He is of royal blood like many of my other marks, but he is practiced enough in his magic to be called a sage. If apsaras like Nanda could not seduce him, if he has challenged Indra , without even attempting to be subtle about it, then he is, at best, an atheist, and at worst, a megalomaniac. His cruelty is likely calculated, diabolical. His fantasies, for all I know, could be darker than any other mortal’s. What will I have to do to come from this mission unscathed?
I harden myself, pushing aside these questions, and crouch to examine the sack I’m carrying. Slowly, I begin to separate the jewels from the clothes and cosmetics. I take off the jewelry I’m still wearing from my mission to Tara, the bangles, the necklaces, even the rings around my toes and the gems threaded through my hair. Maybe my actions are unlike those of the other apsaras who came on this mission before me, but I know I cannot come to Kaushika looking like this. These treasures will simply warn him of who I am.
Still, my fingers hesitate just for an instant as I undo the clasps of the ornaments. What I am doing is too close to blasphemy. Many of these jewels are gifts from the lord. Wearing them is not only a sign of my devotion, it helps me channel my magic directly from Amaravati. An apsara’s magic is tied to the city, which in turn is tied to Indra, who harnesses the prana of the universe itself and distributes it through Amaravati. These jewels are a piece of the lord himself, a reminder of his presence.
Yet even without them, as long as I am pure in thought, I should be able to create illusions, albeit only weak ones. Rambha’s words echo to me. She is unique. She studies her enemy deeply.
I take strength from that and drop all the jewels into one of the parcels. Surely until I know what I am up against, it is more prudent to protect these reminders of the lord. I pick the first large tree I see, a gnarled oak with wide, sweeping branches, and bend to place the parcels at the base. I curl my wrists into a simple mudra, and the illusion forms; light glimmers in golden streaks before diffusing away. When I look next, the jewels are camouflaged in the grass and the rocks, merged with the forest floor.
I barely have time to wonder whether I should wipe the creamy rose dye from my lips too, when a thrumming reverberates around the forest. Snarls and growls follow, disturbing the night, raising all my hackles.
I straighten at once, my eyes darting everywhere. I clutch the remaining packages of clothes and tinctures to me, spinning on my heel. The growls come again, echoing from every direction in the moonlit forest. Shapes die and form within the trees, and my skin erupts in gooseflesh. I turn this way and that, trying to pierce the gloom, knowing I am surrounded.
My palms start to sweat. I was not warned there would be wild creatures in the forest, but of course Rambha would not have thought to tell me. I cannot die through simple means like the attack of a mortal creature. Yet injury? Some scars do not heal, not even for immortal flesh. Without my beauty, I will be useless.
I back away as a roar sounds closer to me. A shape moves in the darkness, too close. A soft cry escapes me, and my body responds on its own. Before I know it, I am running, tripping over roots, stumbling. I want to stop and carve an illusion, something, anything, to distract the creature, but I still cannot see anything clearly. Regret lances through me for hiding my jewels. Without them, I am limited; am I to be punished already for my audacious action? Even as I think this, I crash into something hard.
Vines close around my shoulders, snaking their way down to my hands. My body twists as I fight and cry out—but then it dawns on me. Those are not vines. I am being held by someone. Those are hands gripping my own, trying to still me.
The realization shocks me, enough to know that the snarls have stopped. The shape in front of me resolves into a man. I stare.
He looks to be about my age, perhaps a little older. His hair is in a topknot, and he wears nothing but simple pajamas and a plain kurta. Under the thin cotton, I can tell his chest is muscled like a warrior’s, yet his attire is too simple for a kshatriya and he wears no bands of any army. I am speechless at the light of his aura. Heavenly auras resemble halos, and most mortals often don’t have any aura to speak of. Yet this man’s power shines from within, glowing so strongly that it pools around us like a small sun. Confronted with it, I feel lightheaded. I inhale deeply, trying to steady myself. Camphor and rosewood curl into me, weakening me with their charged potency.
The man’s thick, dark eyebrows furrow. His lips purse tightly, revealing a ghost of a dimple in clean-shaven cheeks. The unsettling, piercing gaze of his deep-brown eyes pins me into stillness. Anger burns in that gaze, and beyond that something more chilling. Hate.
A panic overtakes me. I am gripped by terror again, this one shriller than the one I felt for those snarling creatures.
Of course I know who he is.
I recognize his power. It is apparent in the way he carries himself.
“Who are you?” Kaushika growls, shaking me. “And what are you doing here?”
A LL I CAN THINK OF IN THE MOMENT IS THIS IS THE MAN WHO killed my sisters. The man who is the cause of so much suffering in Amaravati. The man standing between me and Rambha.
Did he see me cast the illusion on the jewels before? Does he already understand I am an apsara? Is this to be my end—even before I truly begin my mission? In my mind’s eye, Indra gives me an assessing look, as though to gauge whether I am up to this task. Rambha says, She does not even know the most useful mudras. The lord’s smile flickers as he commands me to go on this mission anyway.
I realize my fingers are still caught in Kaushika’s large hands. He lets go of me in the same instant but does not step back. He opens his mouth again, perhaps to repeat his question, but I recall the reverberation that shook the forest before the roars of the wild creatures. That was surely a magical chant, a mantra of great power. I speak before he has a chance to utter another one.
“Meneka,” I breathe. “M-My name is Meneka.”
The sound of my terrified voice gives him pause. “And what are you doing here, Meneka ?”
“I—I—” Nothing occurs to me. No lie, no excuse, nothing. I desperately realize how ill prepared I am. Even Rambha was unable to tell me anything helpful about this mark. I hoped to learn of him before approaching him, but I never expected to stumble into him moments after arriving in the mortal realm. His face grows more suspicious with my silence, and panicked, I blurt out the truth.
“I—I came to find Sage Kaushika,” I say.
“Why?” he snaps.
“To—to—”
Abruptly, anger overtakes my terror. If these are to be my last moments before he kills me, why should I act guilty? He is the evil one. Kaushika looks as arrogant as I thought him to be—cruel, dictatorial, despicable. Mortals who challenge Indra are the reason I have to return to this dismal realm time and again. If they did not seek to rise above their station, I wouldn’t be sent on missions like this. Power is all they care about, and I am tired of being a pawn in these games. I forget the sheer danger Kaushika poses, the challenge he presents. A raw impulse streaks through me, honest and foolish. My back straightens and I cross my arms over my chest.
My voice is cold. “My business is my own.”
“Is it? I am Kaushika. Now. Why do you seek me?”
I step back and press my hands together, feigning surprise at the revelation of his identity. I have bought enough time to recover my wits. I remember everything I heard about this man in Tara’s country and incline my head warily.
“Forgive me,” I say, injecting contriteness into my tone. “I did not mean to anger you. I am here to learn from you, Sage. I have heard rumors of your powers. Of a hermitage where you teach those who come to you.”
“I only teach those who have magic in them. Do you?”
Not all mortals can do magic, of course, but it isn’t uncommon either, especially for those who have inherited some power from their past lives, or through their lineage, or through rigorous meditation. The magic I can perform is deeply different from mortal magic, but that is not what he is asking.
“Yes,” I say, searching for my tether to Amaravati as I speak the word.
Kaushika stares at me silently. His lips part, and a chant emerges from him, deep and somber. A ripple goes through me at his voice, and my bond to Amaravati flares as though Indra himself is standing before me. My eyes widen, but the feeling is already subsiding. Kaushika still looks suspicious, but before I can ask for an explanation, he offers one himself.
“You are strong in magic, but the rumors are wrong. I cannot help you. Leave.”
“No—please. You cannot send me away, not when—not when there are wild creatures within the forest.”
His face is unreadable. “There are no creatures. That was a conjuring. The forest is warded. You can leave and you will be safe. Find someone else to train you.”
I blink. So that was the purpose of the mantra I heard. It must have been placed here by him, to terrify intruders. Did my sisters walk into this as well? He is already turning away, but Rambha’s face flashes in my mind.
“Don’t send me away,” I say. “Please. I’m doing this for my family—for the people I love.”
The words are true, hurled out of desperation, and they make him stop. He studies me, intrigued. “What do you mean?”
I remember Tara’s kingdom, where I first heard of this man. Swiftly, a story forms. “I belong to a noble house within the nation of Pallava,” I say. “My country is in peril, our queen acting irrationally. I know my magic can help my people, but I must learn of it first. Rumors of your power came to my country, and so I am here—but please, you cannot send me away to be useless.”
Still, he doesn’t reply, though I can see the indecision on his face.
My mouth feels dry. His hesitation indicates he has experience with a conflicted past. Kaushika comes from a royal family, yet none of Indra’s spies learned which kingdom he hails from. After all, there are thousands of countries in the mortal realm, with royals and nobles and younger children who routinely leave to find their destinies. Even though swarga keeps track of particularly powerful kings and queens, the mortal realm is always restless and moving. There is only so much that is worth remembering.
Did Kaushika leave his home of his own accord, or was he made to leave? Either way, my story about helping my kingdom has given him pause, and I have already learned something about him. I push my advantage in one final move.
“You are Sage Kaushika,” I say softly. “All sages have a duty, to teach those who come to them wanting to learn. Or were my teachers wrong?”
His eyebrows rise at that, a sardonic look entering his features. “A sage chooses his own students. Those who are worthy. Those who are pure of heart. Are you?”
I lift my chin, not answering, but it is obvious in my expression. Find out.
A tilted smile forms on his face. He cocks his head, considering me. “Very well,” he says. “But be warned. Training is hard. Few people have the discipline for the asceticism I require. Even fewer have the purity of heart to know themselves, which I need.”
Saying no more, he strides away. My teeth worry at my lip as the darkness deepens. Fireflies blink in the distance, pinpricks of golden beauty that remind me of home. I stare at Kaushika’s retreating back, this man whose seduction will take forms I cannot know. Anger pounds through me at how I have debased myself already by begging to enter his hermitage. At how arrogant he is, challenging my lord. Rambha is right; he is not like other marks. There will be no guilt in seducing him. As for the danger … my identity is still hidden for now. Although he can sense my magic, he is unable to tell it is celestial. As long as I never create an illusion in front of him, I am safe. Right?
“Changed your mind already?” he calls out, his sneer carrying in the darkness.
The thrill of the hunt rises within me, heating my blood. Twigs snap under my feet as I follow.