Chapter 27
CHAPTER 27
W e stand next to each other at the precipice of the cliff.
Below us, the tributary of River Alaknanda cascades like a stormy ocean, preparing for battle too. Waves rise and fall in the wind, the usual chinking babble now crashing violently over stones. Despite this, so strong is my sense of peace around Rambha, so familiar is her star-anise scent, that if I close my eyes I can almost believe I am back in Amaravati.
I do not close my eyes.
I stare ahead and will myself into stillness, forcing myself to see this moment for what it is.
Rambha swallows, the sound soft in her throat. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the curve of her neck. The golden luminosity of her skin. The sari that hugs her and the blouse that is very nearly not there.
She is exquisite, but for once her beauty does nothing for me. Instead, I find myself thinking back to when I first met her all those years ago. I was an apsara of fifteen, and she was my new handler. I wanted to be like her from that first instance . Look where that brought us. If she encouraged me to become my own creature, would our destinies be different? Even Kaushika only ever wanted me to stay true to myself. I failed him when I failed to do this, never understanding my own nature—but Rambha, she only wanted me to become someone else, and I traveled that path into confusion and despair. What does she possibly have to say to me now? I turn to her, my mouth tightening, a question in my face.
She stirs. “I didn’t know the lord was going to do it,” she begins.
I wait. Do what? Impersonate her? Cut me off from Amaravati? Promise retribution? Which of these did she not know as his favorite apsara?
“When the lord told me that he exiled you …” Unexpected tears spring into her eyes, and Rambha brushes them away.
Instinct makes me want to move, hold her in my arms, and soothe her. If I only relent, the walls between us will break. I do not listen to that part of me. I remain frozen.
Rambha’s gaze falls. “I begged him to spare you. I told him I did not want you harmed. But he is furious and frightened. The threat to his power and to Amaravati is greater than ever. This is why he comes for Kaushika, now before the Vajrayudh fully arrives, while he still can. There was a time when the lord was more open-minded, but he is weakened now, beginning to fear the doubt people have in him. Queen Shachi questions him in front of his devas, showing them how fallible he is. He would not countenance it from you, Meneka. He would punish you if I told him of your failing devotion to him. And I cannot lie to him—I do not want to. This is why I tried to dissuade you from your questions, why I tried to make you focus on your missions. To be involved in court intrigue is not something anyone should endure. You can be asked to make choices you will never be ready for.” Her voice becomes a whisper by the very end.
I imagine it. Indra has just cut me off from Amaravati. A full court awaits him in his palace, and his fury lashes out at all the immortals. He slouches on his throne, frowning, wishing to be entertained and distracted. The apsaras perform for him, showing him illusions of his own greatness. And later, when the court has cleared, Indra remains on his throne, moody and sulking. Rambha is at his feet, a supplicant. Rambha, who has been thrust into court intrigue, or perhaps chooses to participate. Rambha, who has been asked to make difficult choices, between the lord she loves … and me.
The images pour into my head easily, too vivid for my own imagination. I am instantly suspicious. Rambha’s aura shines, no longer subdued, and though her fingers do not twist into mudras, I think, She has always been more skilled.
“Why are you here?” I ask bluntly.
“I am here for you,” she replies.
I raise an eyebrow. “Not for Indra?”
“For him, too—always. And Amaravati.”
There is no guile in her response. She loves the City of Immortals just like I do. She has never been coy about it; in her mind, the city is inseparable from the lord. She has always worried about what Kaushika could do to it, from the very first time she told me about him.
“You kissed me before I left for the mission,” I say, and this time I cannot keep the hurt from my voice. “Why?”
Rambha lifts her eyes to meet mine. “I was trying to protect you. I placed a charm on you, one that would shield you from the lord’s wrath. I couldn’t save you from Kaushika’s unknown magic, but Indra’s temper I know well.” She smiles, and it is sad. “I know you, too, Meneka, and I knew this mission would test you. It would make you question the lord further, especially after the form your own boon took. My kiss was a transference of my own aura, to remind Indra in his time of rage that you are precious to me.”
I stare at her for signs of duplicity, but all I see is grief in the bend of her shoulders. My anger leaves me in a wave of tiredness.
Rambha did not ask me before placing the charm on me, her kiss only clouding my mind. Yet it was because of this transference that Indra chose to exile me instead of killing me. He cut me off from my power, an action that might have killed me anyway with the sickness of being removed from Amaravati’s magic, but he could have simply beheaded me with the vajra—and he did not. I reclaimed my power because I still lived. I should thank Rambha for this small protection, but my gratitude fades within the sorrowful chasm of what I endured. Nothing is left behind except ashes of pity for the both of us. Is this to be an apsara’s lot? To love and protect but always do so without permission?
“So it didn’t mean anything,” I say. My voice is raw.
“It meant enough,” she whispers, and moves closer to me.
I do not move away, but I recognize the answer for what it is. An evasion.
“Did Indra know about this charm?” I ask.
“No, but when the charm took effect, he understood what I did. He remembered my love for you.”
I recall the expression of sadness in Indra’s eyes, even as he told me of my exile. “Did he punish you?” I ask.
Rambha hesitates for a second. Then she shakes her head. “He would not. Not me.”
I say nothing to this. I simply watch her.
She shivers under my scrutiny. “Meneka, it is complicated. We are immortals, you and I. We do not age like mortals do. Yet I am much older than you are. I was born during the Churning of the Oceans. I have been by the lord’s side, his dancer, his muse, his devotee, for millennia. Indra and I have lived through a thousand battles, a hundred heroics, a million manipulations. He has taken my form before, to test me and to test others, especially apsaras who threaten to go rogue. I have held his hand, planned his wars and missions for him, comforted him. We have always been more than lord and apsara.”
“Lovers,” I say dully, and she nods.
Little wonder he refused to endanger her on such a dangerous mission. I suppose I have known all along. I try to work up resentment, but in my heart I understand. Would I endanger Kaushika if I had a chance to save him? I shudder, unable to contemplate such a position.
“Does Queen Shachi approve?” I ask instead.
“She knows,” Rambha answers. “She has not objected. She understands Indra and his desires.”
I think of the queen. Proud, beautiful, kind. A goddess who raised the apsara girls in her own grove, bearing gifts and sweetmeats for the little ones, sitting among the flowers, encouraging our dance. I recall her fury in the throne room, and how she challenged Indra. I cannot reconcile the image of that devi with what Rambha is saying to me. Would Shachi truly not care about Rambha with her own husband? Rambha was never part of Shachi’s grove. If Rambha were truly born during the Churning of the Oceans, then she is as old as Shachi herself. Yet Indra is known as Shachindra. Shachi’s Indra. Whether the queen understands Indra’s desires or not, she is possessive of the lord.
Rambha reads my mind, and her smile is resigned. “Do not confuse faith with monogamy, Meneka,” she says softly. “Monogamy is the invention of mortals. I have seen it come and go. I am not the lord’s only lover, and the queen has her own harem. But I am a free agent, and my heart is to do with as I wish. Just because I love Indra, it does not mean I cannot love someone else. And what I feel for you—”
“What do you feel for me?” I interrupt, finally asking a question that has hovered between us from the beginning. “That kiss, and everything you have asked me to say or do for this mission … has it been for the lord? Or has it been for me?”
“It has been for both of you,” Rambha says, though her face falls. “My love for the two of you is not different, Meneka. The lord will not want me here, but even if he wins it and destroys Kaushika, this war will only weaken him further. It will be a mistake Indra might never recover from, to kill a sage devoted to Shiva. Tell me,” she says, and a cold edge enters her soft voice. “Why do you do this? Why did you make the choices you did during your mission?”
I pull away from her. Yet I cannot deny that the very same questions I have asked of her, Kaushika has asked of me. I understand her explanation, but pain still lances through me, cutting me fresh. Is this what Kaushika felt with my betrayal? With my explanation?
“Indra exiled me from Amaravati,” I say quietly. “He took everything from me when he did so, unwilling to hear me out, and maybe that is what devotion is, the fact that I cannot help but still retain a measure of love and loyalty towards him, no matter his actions. But I do not forget what he did, Rambha. I do not forgive. I can balance both these emotions in me—just like Shiva holds both poison and freedom within himself. Do you understand what I am saying?”
She is silent for a very long while. Under the moonlight, her cheeks look pale. I wonder if she has ever been rejected.
“I understand,” she says finally, and her voice is emotionless. “But if it is your objective to stop this war, then you need me.”
A breeze ruffles my hair, heavy with the scent of storm. My mind swims with everything she has told me.
I shake myself. “Then help us in any way you can,” I say. “The others are waiting, and we don’t have time.”
I leave without checking to see if she follows.
I RETURN TO A CLEARING OVERFLOWING WITH MAGIC .
Rambha and I were not away long, but already the mortals and Nanda are working together, albeit begrudgingly. Anirudh’s rune of accord glitters with Amaravati’s gold dust as Nanda spins a lazy circle around it. They push it out together, and it rises, enlarging, into the dusky sky above us, similar to how I once created a rune over the hermitage. I imagine it shielding the forest.
The braided magic works on me as well, almost as soon as I arrive. My muscles relax, and my head empties of its confusing thoughts. I join Nanda, and we mold illusions of Amaravati, its delicate sculptures that peek through the trees, its arches reaching over the clouds. The mortals clear the woods, and we fashion it to resemble Indra’s own personal garden. Do not war here , I add silently, a prayer to the lord of heaven. This realm is not so different from the one you love.
My request to an invisible Indra is simple, but when I think of a mirror one for Kaushika, the peace I’ve acquired grows unsteady. What can I say that will convince him? I know his reasons for battle, and I have not been able to persuade him yet. Even his closest counselors have failed in this, as have his teachers from the Mahasabha. His dimpled smile flashes in my eyes. The heat and camphor of his aura. The softness of his skin. The kindness that fills his heart. I cannot bear it, the thought that he could be destroyed soon.
We stop to rest when the rain has completely let up, and the moon is high. My mortal allies settle around the fire in their bedrolls. Rambha and Nanda, of course, do not need to sleep as celestials. The two disappear into the woods, murmuring in low voices.
I lie on the ground beside Kalyani and Eka as the night climbs. Magic shimmers around us, in dimly lit illusory lanterns on trees, and runes that flicker just out of sight. A low hum of mantras circles us, providing a soothing cadence, and the fresh scent of petrichor sings in my heart. The mortals fall asleep almost instantly, but I lie awake, thinking. Only a few hours ago, Shiva was speaking to me in this clearing. Only a few hours ago these people were ready to attack one another. We are peaceful now, but what will the morning bring? Could I change Indra’s and Kaushika’s minds the way I changed the minds of these people here? I cradle my head in my hands, while I stare up at the star-studded sky. I imagine myself back in Amaravati, but I do not know if I will find relief there, not unless my friends and I succeed at what we intend tomorrow.
I should rest, yet all of Amaravati’s magic around me keeps me alert. Rambha’s laughter through the trees heats my cheeks. She and Nanda are comforting each other in the way apsaras often do. The celestials are not loud, and my mortal friends sleep deeply, undisturbed, but of course, they would not have a celestial’s sensitivity to such pleasures. Unlike the mortals, we are made for song and dance and love. I can hear the two women release their fear and worry, the slight pants, the playful tones. Yet there is no one here who can help relieve me.
My hands twitch, and I rest them lightly on my belly. My eyes fill with stars, but all I see is Kaushika and the night we spent together. The length of him. The rosewood scent of his skin. The way he would move me just so, for the satisfaction he could give me. The way he would demand his own pleasure, rough and gentle and breathless. My breathing turns shallow, and my eyes start to close, drifting, drifting, so easy to forget that he might never forgive me—
“Meneka? Are you awake?”
I snatch my hands away from my belly.
I open my eyes to see a shadowy shape sitting up across the fire where the other yogis are. “Yes,” I reply, my voice a croak. “I’m awake, Romasha.”
She wriggles out of her bedroll. Her shadow moves, then she sits beside me, staring into the fire. She throws a few twigs in, biting her lip.
“You are worried,” I say, sitting up too.
“I don’t like this waiting. I hated it even when Kaushika was making all his preparation. Before Kalyani convinced Anirudh and me that we needed to find you.”
“We’ve done all we can,” I say. “This will work.” It has to.
She does not reply, but her posture grows more tense. She is uncomfortable about something unrelated, wanting to unburden herself to me. I wonder if she is about to declare her love for me too, like Kaushika once did, and then Rambha. It is such a ridiculous thought that I smile to myself in the darkness.
“Meneka,” she blurts out, “he was distraught.”
It takes me a second to understand.
Kaushika.
My heart begins to race. I want to ask a hundred questions, but my tongue is heavy in my mouth. I swallow.
“I have never seen him like this,” she continues. “You have changed him.”
My eyes close. Romasha’s words are a balm to my soul, but I cannot accept them. Kaushika’s face flashes at me, the way I saw him last, cold and emotionless, repulsed by me.
“He loves you,” she says, her voice quiet.
“You don’t know that,” I whisper, tears pressing at the back of my eyes. I shake my head, wanting to change the subject, but Romasha looks into the fire, and her voice hardens.
“I do know that,” she says vehemently. “I know him . He returned to us weeping after he left you. Oh, he blustered and raged while telling us what had occurred between you two. Criticized you and himself and all the betrayals. But you and I both know he is too strong to simply be seduced by a celestial. He was never as innocent of the seduction as he claims to be. He suspected you were lying from the very start; he even asked Anirudh and me to watch you while he was away from the hermitage, to see if you exhibited any suspicious behavior, to see if you attempted to attack him in any way. He began warding his home after you arrived, and he told us to trap you if you were found inside so he may deal with you. He never confided why, never telling us he thought you were an apsara. It was too close to his own shameful act with Nanda, I suppose. But he tried to trick you as much as you did him, and now he is in love with you, even if he is too blind to acknowledge it yet. The pain from what happened between you two … I believe this is what drove him to finally call his followers to arms.”
Embers of hurt, indignation, and anger spark in me, flashing too fast to keep track. Keeping them threaded is an animalistic thrill. That he was hunting me all the while I was hunting him. That he knew, he suspected, and yet here we are … I want to acknowledge everything Romasha has said, but it is too raw. I latch on to the easiest thing I can.
“So this war is my fault?” I say. “Kaushika is just like Indra, then. Neither of them wanting to take responsibility for their own actions. Neither of them—”
“Meneka,” Romasha interrupts, “he is in pain. This war is for you, not because of what you did, but because of what you were made to do.”
My anger melts away. I remember him saying, Your compulsion to obey is another thing Indra must answer for. “Why are you telling me all this?” I ask Romasha quietly.
She turns to me, surprised. “Do you not know? I thought it was obvious. I am telling you because I love him.”
I stare at her, and Romasha lets out a bitter laugh, turning back to the fire. “Do not mistake me,” she says. “I wish with every living breath that he would see me the way he sees you. But I am a yogi, wise enough to know what is simple desire and what is more. He loves you , not me. He does not even know I care for him in this way, but I do not need him to. When I look at Kaushika, I see Shiva. But he sees Shakti when he looks at you . Who am I to stand in the path of his devotion?”
Words fail me. I open my mouth—to say what? Tell her I am sorry? That I understand it is unfair? Romasha does not need my explanation or my apologies. Suddenly, I feel small and humbled.
I say nothing for a long time.
Stars glimmer above, beginning to fade. In the east, the pale-pink flush of Surya’s first light colors the sky. Within the hermitage, they will be starting prayers. In Amaravati, the apsaras will be bathing, splashing water on one another.
“I have hurt him too much,” I say finally.
“Who among mortals or immortals does not hurt the ones they love?” Romasha says, shrugging. “Love is hurt. But it is forgiveness too.”
Her tone is indifferent, but this is wisdom. Indra would ask me to atone for my sins in order to gain forgiveness. Is this what Kaushika will want too? I open my mouth to ask Romasha, but she sits up abruptly, gazing behind me.
I turn toward the east to follow her line of sight.
Dawn comes faster than usual, flooding across the sky, the sun’s rays burning my skin in seconds. Romasha and I stand up. My heart begins to race. The other yogis from the hermitage awaken as though this is an alarm, and when I blink, Rambha and Nanda are there too, beside me. Everyone is grim, and we can all see it now—chariots appearing in the sky, drawn by the massive steeds of heaven.
Devas glitter on them, Surya with his brilliant light-rayed crown, and Vayu, lord of wind, around whom the very air shimmers. Agni, with orange fire sparking over his body, and Samudra, lord of river and ocean, who can command the tributary of the Alaknanda, which lies behind us.
On and on they come, a hundred devas both great and minor, and Lord Indra rides amidst them, the most magnificent of them all. Indra’s armor shines a brilliant silver, like the edges of a storm cloud, glinting with the combined power of all the gods he commands. His crown gleams so sharply that I can almost not tell it is made of thousands of tiny lightning bolts. Atop his armored war elephant, Airavat, Indra towers over all the lords, dark-gray clouds crackling in malevolent thunderheads above him. Celestial magic sings to me, and I know the devas are accompanied by apsaras, gandharvas, danavas, and uragas—all of them denizens of Amaravati, and each a warrior in their own right.
Indra has brought his full army to this fight, though there are no devis with him, and Queen Shachi is absent too. The goddesses have been left behind to protect Amaravati, their power meant to shield the real jewel while the devas bring havoc to the sage.
Terror laces through my heart. Lightning flashes and thunder rumbles long and loud, thrumming painfully in my chest.
Next to me, Kalyani cries out and points. To the west, a ripple appears in the sky. My eyes widen as a portal cleaves the air, wider than any I’ve seen before. Through the tear, Kaushika’s army waits arrayed, and even from so far away, his aura shines as bright as Surya himself, a lone figure of light within the crowd. I cannot hear him sing, but he is certainly chanting. The army pours out onto the sky itself, sustained by Kaushika’s power alone.
The devas shine brighter, and a long, drawn-out roar of thunder covers the forest, making the earth shake. Indra stares at the rip in the air, toward Kaushika. Agni glints, fire igniting his entire body, a smile of relish on his face.
None of them have noticed us, but I wait no longer.
Uttering a chant myself, I levitate into the air.
Next to me, Rambha ascends as well, two figures flying before war breaks out. I glimpse the others of my alliance as they spin runes, mudras, and mantras. I sense Kaushika’s gaze as it flickers to me from a distance.
And then we are in front of Lord Indra himself, and I blink, my throat closing. Gone is the debauched lord of the throne room and bed sport. The Indra who watches me is all warrior, his armor dazzling enough to be a weapon in itself. His dhoti flaps in the wind, swirling with magic. His eyes are shards of crystal. The lightning-bolt crown on his head is interspersed with a wreath of bael leaves, seeking Shiva’s strength for himself, and his magnificent vajra shines in one hand, blinding me, searing me with its heat and anger. He is surrounded by devas, each of them incandescent. Yet he is the most ominous, and I remember he has been king of heaven through a thousand mutinies, a hundred betrayals, longer than a million years.
My words curdle in my stomach.
I tighten my grip on my courage, praying to Shiva for protection.
“My lord,” I say, and I am proud that my voice does not shake. “I would ask you for a blessing.”
I NDRA DOESN ’ T EVEN LOOK AT ME .
His eyes are only for Rambha, burning with outrage and hurt.
“Rambha,” he intones, voice like the rumble of thunder. “You are here? I looked for you.”
Rambha floats forward, palms joined, eyes downcast. “My lord, please do not be angry. I beg of you.”
Images flash in my head, of Indra pacing his garden, bereft, seeking Rambha. Of visiting the apsaras’ grove, calling out for her. Of looking into his own heart and finding her here in the forest, with me. I am so close to the lord, and his own mind is churning with so much turmoil, that his memories spill into me, showing me what occurred since Rambha left Amaravati to find me. She offered me her love; a free agent, she said. Somehow, I do not think Indra would have been pleased had I accepted her.
His next words tell me I’m right. “You would betray me? For this … this child ?”
“Lord, this is a misunderstanding,” Rambha says hurriedly. “Please—”
“She did not betray you,” I say at the same time. “Neither did I—”
Thunder cracks, drowning out both our voices. Indra’s face darkens, either at my insolence to speak to him or at Rambha’s objection. The clouds kept at bay thus far by Surya’s radiance break through the sky.
Instantly, we are drenched, devas and mortals alike, as a terrible thunderstorm pours over us all. Rambha cries out and covers her face. I mutter a swift mantra, drawing a secret rune to keep myself dry. None of the devas are truly affected either. Agni and Surya still glitter. Samudra, lord of the oceans, looks bored.
Yet Indra’s anger is an act of aggression. I glance behind me, and Kaushika’s army raises its many royal banners. With a start, I recognize the anvil of Queen Tara’s country. Magic burns there, seconds away from being unleashed.
I close my eyes.
Vayu , I beg. Hear my call. Help me now, deva. Help them hear me.
I risk looking at the lord of wind. He is staring at me, his head cocked, amused. Vayu loves mischief and chaos. I have intrigued him.
He smiles, and a depth builds in my throat. The power sings in me, and I float a little higher. “Hear me, devas and sages. Hear me, mortals and immortals. Hear me, all of you who have assembled here for blood.”
With the power of Vayu coursing through me, my voice rises even above Indra’s thunderstorm, echoing all over the landscape. Indra throws Vayu an irritated look, but Vayu merely smiles again and shrugs, as though to say, She prayed to me. What would you have me do?
“Sages and devas, apsaras and gandharvas, scholars and kings and queens, listen to me. This is not your battle. Peace can be achieved if we only sit down to parley.”
In the forest, Anirudh, Kalyani, and the others spin runes of concord, unleashing them into the air. The magic glimmers, aided by the power of Amaravati, strengthened by Nanda’s illusions and amulets. My friends are aiding my desire for peace with their own magic, releasing strains of accord and wellness to amplify my words. Gratitude burgeons in me for their quick thinking.
“Send your ambassadors and speak with each other,” I beseech. My heart races, thinking of what I will say if that occurs. Both the lord and Kaushika are too set in their pride to relent to the other. I will have to negotiate between them. Am I capable of that? “Lay down your astras,” I continue. “Come with the peace of Shiva, and—”
Something whizzes past my ear. An arrow soaked in mortal magic. My eyes widen. It is only because of Vayu’s power running through me that I have not been hurt.
But the arrow was not aimed for me.
It finds its mark.
Rambha gasps, and I turn back to the devas to see Indra holding the arrow in his hand. It vibrates there, inches from his skin, thirsty for his golden blood. Only his deva power has allowed him to stop it, soaked as it is with magic.
Terror overtakes me as Indra’s eyes glint. A thin smile twists his mouth.
He burns the arrow with a thought, and thunder ROARS , drowning every other sound. His lips move, and I recognize his words amidst the snarls of lightning. My heart thuds painfully, about to break through my chest.
A conch rings, high and clear.
Heaven’s war command.