Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
F or a while we march silently through the forest. The only sound is the crunch of leaves under our feet and the skittering of night creatures. Moonlight streams through the gaps in the foliage, and the quiet of the forest grows tenfold with Kaushika by my side.
His scent threads through me, sweeping over my skin, curling through my hair, settling at the base of my throat. It beckons me closer, and I glance at him, the angles of his face hidden in shadow, the graceful manner in which he moves. It is clear that though he now refers to himself as a sage, he has forgotten none of his warrior upbringing. I wonder how much of a sage he truly is. He has the power to be one, certainly—it is evident from his aura. Yet sages seek the ultimate truth of enlightenment, the knowledge of the universe. They undertake arduous meditation and mold the same form of prana magic that Indra himself does. It is why Indra seeks to parley with them before trying to thwart them. It is why Indra even bends to their counsel when it suits him.
Kaushika refused the lord’s previous attempts at conference. He laughed at the gandharva ambassadors, defeated the devotee warriors, and killed the apsara dancers. Heaven does not know what his true intent is, but his actions have been nothing but degrading and aggressive. With every move, he has only shown that he despises Indra. Why? What does he seek?
In that lies the answer to his seduction, so I clear my throat and begin my work. “Why would you ward the forest in such a terrifying way?” I ask.
“For protection,” he says shortly.
“From whom?”
Kaushika’s jaw moves, and his stride grows longer. I have to hurry to keep up with his tall frame. Leaves crush under us, and he doesn’t reply for a long time. I count five heartbeats and am about to repeat myself when he sighs.
“You might as well know,” he relents. “The hermitage is a dangerous place. We practice many kinds of magic there, and our very strength poses a threat to outsiders. The forest is enchanted with a warding of intent. If anyone arrives here to hurt me or my people—” He looks down his aquiline nose at me and his lips part in a dangerous sneer. “I know of it immediately.”
My shock must show on my face, for he grins a tight, sharp smile.
This is what must have given away my apsara sisters. Sundari and Magadhi and Nanda were gifted beyond compare with their illusions. They must have come to the forest, ready to spin their magic, armed with all of heaven’s shining jewels. But the warding of intent betrayed them. The warding clearly works in two ways—one to inform Kaushika of ill-intentioned intruders, and the other to keep the intruders occupied until he arrives.
I am inexperienced, which is why I reacted with panic. But my sisters would not have been fazed. They would have created illusions of defense against the wild, conjured creatures. Kaushika must have recognized them as Indra’s agents at once. He probably executed them before they could charm him. Did they even get as far as I have?
A sick feeling spreads through my chest. I recall the flash of hate I saw on his face when he encountered me. Sundari used to wear flowers in her hair. Magadhi’s smile made even my knees weak. Nanda could sing to rival a gandharva. Dead, all of them dead. Through desperate hate and overwhelming magic—and trickery. Because of this man.
I realize that Kaushika is still watching me, reading the horror on my face. I swallow and look around to account for it. “Then there really is danger here in the forest?”
“There might be,” he says. “Or it could be the obvious answer. You are the danger.”
My fingertips tingle. It occurs to me that the warding was only triggered when I created the illusion to hide my jewels. I might not have fooled him about my identity at all.
“I don’t mean you any harm,” I say quietly.
His answering smile is cold. “We will see, won’t we?”
We march alongside each other in silence. Every now and then, Kaushika throws me an inscrutable look, perhaps anticipating more questions, but even though I know I must make use of my time with him, I dare not utter a word, unsure of what I will give away unknowingly. The sense of peril closes around me, shadows that bounce in the darkness, my own tether to Amaravati too thin to give me any confidence.
Before long, we are at the edge of the forest and lights glimmer through the trees. The path we’re on widens, smeared footsteps indicating that it is well traveled. Raw, unkempt bushes give way to a flower-lined trail, roses and hibiscus and marigolds in a muted profusion of colors, their petals subdued in the dim light but no less beautiful. I follow Kaushika as he strides into a clearing with nearly a hundred huts.
Though the hour is late, voices carry to us. I hear academic discussions of mantras and the Vedas, ethics and dharma. Chants echo around the hermitage, most of them too quiet to make any sense. I recognize only one, an ancient sound that shakes me. It is a mantra calling on Shiva for wisdom to destroy maya, the illusion that conceals the nature of reality itself. A thrill of fear winds up my spine, locking the muscles of my shoulders.
It is not unusual to hear such chants within a hermitage. Sages, by their very nature, seek to peel through the layers of deception of the body and mind.
Yet with that chant, I know that I have fully entered the wolves’ lair. As a mistress of illusions, an apsara, I am the epitome of everything the sages want to destroy. The central courtyard shrinks in my eyes, its dangerous mortal magic pervasive. Kaushika is not the only threat here. All of these people would destroy me if they learned my true identity. I say nothing, following him as we wind our way past the huts to a darkened, straw-covered shed.
We enter a long, narrow corridor with bare walls. Doors lie ajar, leading into empty rooms. Only one door is closed, behind which presumably another student is asleep. Kaushika deposits me into a room that is unadorned except for some straw on the floor. It is so small I can barely walk ten paces before I must turn. A curtainless window looks out into the main courtyard, and shafts of moonlight lie dully on the floor. There is no bedding, no ornamentation, no candle nor food, not even a jug of water. I think of the manses in Amaravati, the ever-present golden dust, the hymns that resonate through heaven. Mudras nearly form at my fingertips, tempting me to erase this barrenness with my illusions. My eyes rise to Kaushika’s. I cannot hide the despair in them.
His lips curve into a thin smile. “We’ll see tomorrow how well you will fit in. Ensure you arrive at the courtyard, where your teacher will meet you.”
I blink. “You won’t train me yourself?”
“Last here long enough, and we will see.”
He turns away to leave, but annoyance sparks in me. “You will be surprised with what I can do.”
“Oh,” he drawls. “I know exactly what you can do. We will see how much of it you give away.”
The words deepen my chill. The dark, bare room closes around me as he shuts the door behind him. The forest, the chants, the faces of my lost sisters all flash before my eyes. A part of me is still in disbelief that earlier this night I was with Queen Tara. I was dancing for her, seducing her. Rambha kissed me with the promise of something more. I can still taste the touch of her lips, but I have never felt as far away from swarga as I do now.
Exhaustion washes over me all at once. So much has happened I can barely keep the events straight in my mind.
I turn away from the door and fling myself on the straw. Dreamless sleep overtakes me instantly.
I’ M AWAKENED BY A KNOCK IN WHAT SEEMS LIKE MERE MINUTES .
Dawn is breaking past the window, a pink flush chasing the last of the misty stars. Groggy-eyed, I crack open the door to see a young woman around my age. She blinks at me, her smile faltering, then gathers herself visibly. Amused, I smile back.
I am used to such reactions to my beauty. All celestial beings exude charm, but stories are sung of apsaras’ exquisiteness. Kaushika was a rare exception to react to me with hostility, but of course, he has seen—and destroyed—more ravishing apsaras than me.
I open the door wider. The woman hesitates, then introduces herself as Kalyani. “Kaushika told me we had a new initiate,” she says hesitantly. “I arrived a few weeks ago myself. Your name is Meneka?”
I study her, the round cheeks, the laugh lines by her eyes, the topknot her hair is tied in. She is dressed in a plain kurta and pajamas, and wrapped in her arms is another set for me. My fingers clutch at the fabric of my sari from heaven. I trace its delicate embroidery. Reluctantly, I nod.
Kalyani leads me to a stall at the end of the shed, where a bucket of cold water waits. While I disrobe and sluice water down my hair, untangling my tresses with my fingers, she chats to me, telling me about the hermitage. I am to receive linen and candles, but all cleaning will be up to me. Everything I have brought must be turned over to a disciple called Romasha, who is in charge of all outside materials that come here. Even though, for the most part, the hermitage exists independently, growing its own food, tending its orchards, creating its own pottery, and weaving its own clothes, she will use what I give her to trade with the outside world. Any proceeds will be applied toward the collective use of the hermitage.
“I cannot part with my clothes,” I protest when Kalyani tells me this. “They are a part of my heritage, a part of my country. I cannot give those away to be traded.”
“Then you will have to burn them,” Kalyani says, her voice apologetic. “The separation from our past is meant to be complete when we arrive here. It’s why Kaushika forbids any questions or discussions about where each of us comes from. The separation is meant to help us on our ascetic path. I am sorry. I do not think he will make an exception for you.”
I tuck away the information about Kaushika’s edict in my mind. If he allows people to escape their past, even forces them to forget it, then this will only help me; I won’t need to fabricate anything further about my own history. Could it be that Kaushika is running away from his own past? If so, I must find out and use it. As for the clothes … Unless someone is to watch over me to ensure I burn my saris, I will simply hide them in the forest along with the jewelry at the first opportunity.
“Are you to be my teacher?” I ask.
“Only a guide,” Kalyani answers. “And a friend, if you wish it. Knowledge is shared freely here, but Anirudh and Romasha are the ones who lead all the lessons. You’ll see. What kind of magic do you perform?”
“I would prefer to demonstrate it,” I say evasively. I have no mortal magic in me, but several of my marks performed magic that threatened Indra. I have encountered chants and artifacts, astrology and potion-making. None of them have compared to my own celestial powers.
I finish drying myself and wear the clothes Kalyani has brought for me. I force my hair into a topknot like the sages, then we make our way to the courtyard.
In the breaking dawn, the central courtyard appears much larger. Nearly a hundred students cluster in separate groups, practicing different forms of magic. Mantras echo, rivaling one another in beauty and complexity. Amulets and clothes are consecrated with flicks of wrists that resemble dance mudras. Fires spark in magnificent shapes, air whirlpools in small tornadoes, and water dances between fingers. Here and there are healers burning herbs, studying contours in the smoke. I even notice some disciples practicing yogic forms that look remarkably like dance.
Kalyani leads me through the students to a quiet spot, where we wait silently. A young man, only a little older than us, detaches himself from the closest group. His eyes widen in telltale shock at my beauty, then he smiles at me.
Anirudh’s aura is not as strong as Kaushika’s, though it still radiates with power, resembling several small jewels tucked in the chakras at his wrists and chest. I notice his straight shoulders, the noble demeanor of his movements, the cadence of his soft speech. I am not allowed to ask, but I know this man was once a royal.
“Your days will be marked with chores and lessons,” Anirudh tells me. “Kalyani will help guide you through it. Are you hungry?”
I shake my head. Celestials do not need food. In Amaravati, if we eat at all, we consume wine and nectar, sweetmeats and ambrosia. I’ve never been fond of mortal food, but I will have to pick at my meals here, enough not to arouse suspicion. My stomach already rebels at the thought, though I am careful to keep the distaste out of my face.
“Just as well,” Anirudh says. “We only eat after the morning practice in the courtyard. The first fasting helps us focus. Things will change the closer you get to the Initiation Ceremony, but the ceremony itself is what all the training here is aimed towards. In approximately two months’ time, all of us here—including me—will have to display to Kaushika what we can do with our magic. It is meant to be a demonstration of our power and control, and we get to pick the manner of our demonstration. We are all yogis here, capable of great magic, but the purpose of this hermitage is to turn a yogi into a rishi. You do know what a rishi is, don’t you?”
“A sage,” I reply, nodding. It is a common mortal term.
“Not just any sage,” Anirudh says, shaking his head. “A rishi is a sage who has uncovered the deepest mysteries of the universe. Who has swum in the waters of knowledge that ordinary people like us can only hope to glimpse in our lifetimes. A rishi is a self-proclaimed title, but no one in this hermitage except Kaushika can claim it yet. He alone has demonstrated his power to other sages, to Gautama and Bhardwaj, to Jamadagni and even to ornery Vashishta. If we are to follow in his path, then one day we must do the same, but we will have to begin with convincing Kaushika himself. Understood?”
“Yes,” I say cautiously. “Why two months?”
Anirudh smiles. “Because of the Mahasabha. The sages’ gathering will occur immediately after the Initiation Ceremony, where Kaushika must present his students to the rest of the enclave. The meeting will not just be a judgment on us but also on him. On everything we are doing here at the hermitage, and the path we take. Kaushika wants us to succeed, so he is giving us as much time as he can before he presents the strongest of us. He will be exacting in his testing of us in the ceremony, but not harsh. He wants us to grow more powerful. That is why we keep to the timeline and the training. You have arrived too late, but we will do our best. I will help you every step of the way.”
Anxiety pinches my heart. Indra gave me until the Vajrayudh to thwart Kaushika, an event that will arrive in about six months. Yet with the Initiation Ceremony so close, how am I to survive until the Vajrayudh when I cannot do mortal magic at all?
“Do not worry overmuch about what is to come,” Anirudh says, reading my expression while Kalyani nods in encouragement. “For now, we will simply see how much your power allows you to do. What form does your magic take?”
“Runes,” I reply carefully. “It is what is passed down in my line.”
I have had enough time to think about it since Kalyani’s inquiry earlier. Of all mortal magics, the creation of runes is most similar to the dance mudras of the apsaras. I even learned the shapes of some of them from one of my marks, a kshatriya warrior called Nirjar.
His tattooed face is burned in my mind, his thick fingers and their brutal strength, and the magic in them that Indra feared. His broad and muscled body was covered with runes that gave him speed, daring, and ferocity. Yet despite his ominous appearance, Nirjar was one of my more likeable marks, gentle in his practice, careful in his words. Indestructible because of his runes, his very existence was a threat to swarga. What purpose did heaven have if Nirjar sought to make an imperishable body? Only souls were supposed to be immortal, moving through heaven or hell in the cycle of karma until it was time to be reborn again. Indra’s sacred duty compelled him to thwart Nirjar, and I was sent to accomplish this task.
I can still see the way Nirjar grasped his blades and scraped at his skin, flaying himself. Unlike the illusions I made for so many of my other marks, the ones I created for him were not sexual at all. I simply showed him a life with me, children, and future happiness. His blood ran from his face, lost in this simple vision, and I returned from the mortal realm sickened with myself. Yet the lord was so ecstatic, he rewarded not just me but Rambha, too, with jewels.
I shake myself out of the memory, focusing back on Kaushika’s camp. When Nirjar created runes, the very air would crackle with energy and form a fiery shape floating before him. Tentatively, I use my finger to draw the rune for a breeze into the space in front of me—but of course nothing happens.
Anirudh tuts. “That’s an easy rune. Try again.” He holds my hand, correcting my calligraphy, helping me form the precise strokes.
We continue for what seems like hours. It becomes increasingly clear that though I am mastering the shape, I can produce no magic. Next to us, Kalyani practices her own forms, focusing on her breath as she moves through yogic poses, but from the glances she throws toward me, I know I am shocking her with my incompetence. Anirudh grows frustrated, muttering about how he has never seen such a block to magic.
“Have you ever shaped any rune into manifestation?” he asks, exasperated.
I shake my head. Of course not. That is not the form my magic takes.
Anirudh bites the inside of his cheek. “Kaushika let you in. Even I can tell you have magic. But for not even a spark to appear, even though you have a lineage in it …”
His face grows anxious. I am about to ask what will happen if I don’t succeed when our conversation is interrupted.
“I think you need to start much easier with her,” a voice drawls.
Suddenly I am aware that the entire courtyard has fallen silent. Camphor and rosewood swirl around me as Kaushika moves from within the crowd, approaching me like a panther. Disciples separate, making way for him . I watch him approach, and a blaze of fury sharpens in my chest at the arrogant way he walks, the ownership he thinks he has over me simply because I am here, pretending to be his student.
“Runes come after,” Kaushika says, his eyes never leaving mine. “Meneka cannot even access her own power yet.”
Understanding flickers in Anirudh’s eyes. He steps aside and Kaushika takes his place, inches from me. If I raised my hand to make another rune, I would touch him. My world narrows into only him, the danger of him, the relaxed stillness of his body.
Kaushika crosses his arms over his chest. “Close your eyes. Look inside your heart. What do you see?”
Aware with every fragment of my body that he has killed apsaras, I reluctantly obey him. “I see nothing,” I mutter. “Merely feel the movement of my breath.”
A grunt from him. “Well, there’s that at least. Your breath is a sheath moving through your physical body. Within it lies a measure of prana moving through the nadi channels of your subtle body. That prana is your magic. You need to connect with it.”
It is absurd that he should explain what prana is to me, when I am a celestial. Prana is so much more than merely my magic. It is the magic of the universe, linking and permeating all living and nonliving things. As a celestial, the universe’s prana flows to me through Amaravati from Indra. The lord of heaven manipulates prana through his divinity to nurture the City of Immortals. Kaushika practices prana magic, the same as Indra, yet he challenges the lord, he who is so skilled in it that he sustains heaven and earth.
I scowl at this incongruity. “How do I connect with my prana?”
“There is no ‘how,’” Kaushika replies. “There just is. You need to learn of yourself. Magic is a conversation with yourself. You need to take some responsibility for your own learning. Did you expect you would simply come here and I would bestow knowledge upon you?”
My scowl deepens at his condescending words. He dares to lecture me on responsibility? This man who challenges the devas in his callousness?
It is so egotistical that I open my eyes and study him, the brooding outlines of his mouth, the sharp intensity of his gaze. A sense of self-righteous recklessness surges in me. I have not dared it thus far, unknowing of the extent of his perception regarding my identity, but I cannot help myself. Reveal your lust , I murmur in my mind.
I expect an image to blossom. Kaushika seeking power over all these people he has gathered. Kaushika seeking to unravel the powers of the universe. Kaushika giving me a glimpse into his past.
Yet my whisper slams against a powerful oblivion. Shocked, my mouth falls open.
A blank wall mocks me, as though he has no desire whatsoever. The feeling is so unnatural, so alien, so profane to the vitality I live in as an apsara, that I stagger back, my eyes widening.
I stare at him, not understanding at first—then comprehension floods me. It is not lack of desire that creates a block to Kaushika’s lust. He has shielded himself deliberately so I cannot look in.
Is this because of the other apsaras? Did he build this shield after experiencing them? Or does he know I am an apsara? If he knows, surely he would have killed me already. My chest rises and falls as I continue to stare at him. My bottom lip catches between my teeth in worry. Kaushika’s eyes track the movement and his own frown deepens. I rally myself, aware we are being watched.
“Maybe,” I say softly, “I can learn what I’m capable of based on what you can do?”
His gaze grows wary at my change in tone. “What do you mean?”
“You said magic is a conversation with myself. You could show me how you do that. What do you do when you are most truthful with yourself?”
Someone gasps. Kalyani utters a half-startled laugh. Anirudh mutters that I am already achieving what it took him a lifetime to do. I do not know what he means, but I see the way Kaushika’s eyes glint on hearing it.
I am aware I am pushing, yet urgency races through my veins, like heaven’s chariots. What do I care for learning mortal magic? The sun beats down on us, and I imagine Lord Surya watching me and reporting to Indra—but of course, the camp is probably warded against prying eyes, even the eyes of a deva. It is why Indra has not learned anything significant yet. I am alone here, surrounded by enemies. Perhaps I should be more careful, but the realization only angers me further. This man has cut me off from everything I love. If I do not succeed, he will destroy it all.
Kaushika’s lips turn into a thin smile, like he can read my thoughts. Like he agrees . “Careful, Meneka,” he murmurs. “You should not ask questions you would not understand the answers to.”
I do not drop my gaze. “I am only here to learn.”
“Are you? Let’s see how willing you are.”
A chant flows from him, the very same one he used last night before declaring I could do magic. My bond to Amaravati flares, yet this time instead of subsiding immediately, it continues to grow. My skin grows hot, burning. My body lights from within, and I feel myself float though my feet still touch the ground.
My voice grows high-pitched. “What are you doing?”
“Showing you how much magic you contain.” Kaushika stops chanting, but the mantra takes over, consuming me. I am radiant, golden, bursting with power.
Suddenly I know that everyone can see how much magic I have. It is more than any one of them, short only of Kaushika. Gasps echo from the crowd. Kalyani looks awed. Even Anirudh’s eyes are wide. Are they threatened by my power? Is this what Kaushika intends with such a display—to make me a target, to alienate me? All of these people aim to destroy maya. They will attempt to kill me now simply because I am more powerful. They will see that Indra is my lord, that my magic is celestial. My panicked breath reverberates in my ears. My eyes dart between their faces. I try to move, but I cannot, held by terrible fear.
“Do you see yourself?” Kaushika whispers. “Can you reach inside of you?”
Amaravati’s tether blooms in me, luminous, and Kaushika’s warmth engulfs me. I try to ease my heart, but it only beats more rapidly. I have trapped myself here with him. This is what destroyed my sisters.
Slowly, painfully, I raise my arms against his magic. He is close enough for me to touch his chest, and I feel the solid muscle of it, the unyielding pressure.
Then I push, hard . He raises his brows.
His enchantment comes to a stop.
He steps back, opening more distance between us.
All around us is silence, the solemn looks of the other students, the amazement and disbelief. Kaushika smiles, and his eyes glint in vindication. My hands drop as we stare at each other.
“You are afraid of yourself,” he says. “Powerful though you are, you are no use to us here in the hermitage.” He looks around, and his next words are louder, carrying into the crowd. “Consider this a lesson. Magical strength is secondary. Self-knowledge comes first. If I were you, I would not get used to her.” Kaushika’s eyes cut toward me, and his voice is hard. “Meneka will not last a month.”