Chapter 9 Bhumika #2
“Some,” Khalida said shortly, which meant that a handful of servants were still working their way through the wreckage and making an accounting of the damage. Bhumika winced internally. They could not afford to lose any supplies.
A hand tugged at her sari.
“Up,” Padma demanded.
“You’re a terror,” Bhumika said, with utter fondness, and swept her daughter up into her arms. She kissed Padma’s face and over and over again until Padma shrieked and kicked her little legs furiously.
“My lady,” Khalida said impatiently. “Hand her to me and go.”
Bhumika did, with one further kiss. It felt good to briefly relish this: the smell of her daughter’s hair, the soft riot of her curls; the sheer, joyous fury with which she greeted the world.
Khalida thought Bhumika overindulged her child. That was fine. That was a mother’s prerogative. Let her daughter be a terror, at least for a time.
Some believed they could ready a child for the cruelties of the world with punishment and unkindness, callousing the heart before the world could set its knives upon it.
But Bhumika was raised a temple child—taught to excise her softness and weakness, and to face the world with her teeth bared.
And still, every loss she had experienced had hurt her.
Still, she carried the scars of her own choices, and the choices made by others.
She wanted a different path for her daughter. Perhaps all lives became brimful of pain, eventually. Well, then. Let her daughter’s start painlessly, in joy. Let her have at least that.
“My apologies for the delay,” Bhumika said, sweeping into the room. “I was tending to my daughter.”
Chetan nodded stiffly. He was seated by a low table, under a latticed window, in the only relatively unscathed receiving room of the mahal.
A gouge in the wall had been carefully concealed behind silk curtains.
There were perfumed flowers in bowls, at intervals across the room, and a single maid holding a plate of delicacies.
She remained by the door, eyes lowered demurely, as Bhumika crossed the room and kneeled down across the table from the highborn lord.
“How old is she now?” Chetan asked.
Quintessential small talk, but not without purpose. It allowed Bhumika the opportunity to smile, and wave over the girl to pour out tea and offer pastries. Chetan accepted the tea, but declined the rest.
“She has passed her first year,” said Bhumika. “You have children of your own, don’t you?”
“I do,” Chetan agreed. “Two boys. The eldest will soon be fourteen.”
“My congratulations,” Bhumika said. “It is a fine thing to have your heir near adulthood.”
For a moment, his gaze warmed. Then, as he visibly remembered himself, it shuttered. He leaned back. In a severe voice he said, “If we may begin, Lady Bhumika, I have serious concerns, many serious concerns, and they have not been properly addressed by you or your courtiers.”
Since her “courtiers” were cooks and maids, not all of whom could read, and a handful of rebels who couldn’t be convinced to put down their masks or their knives and engage in anything resembling diplomacy, that was no surprise.
“I welcome the guidance of Ahiranya’s highborn,” Bhumika said.
“I have taken advisors from all the great families. I hold audiences with them regularly, as you must be aware, Lord Chetan.” And what a dull business that was: listening to the concerns of each and every highborn representative, the complaints as their income from their pleasure houses dwindled faster and faster with each day.
As the war between the would-be empress and the sitting emperor dragged on.
Every audience more laden with fear as time passed, every suggestion for new sources of profit more wild.
But Bhumika could not make money appear out of thin air.
She could not make the highborn wealthier when there was no money to be had.
She could barely stop Ahiranya’s people from starving.
“I would have your advice too, of course. You have views on the governance of Ahiranya?”
“I do. My views are straightforward, elder: The highborn of our country were better served under Emperor Chandra.” His gaze bored into her. “Many of us would rejoin the empire if we could.”
“How did Emperor Chandra better serve the needs of my fellow highborn?” Bhumika asked immediately. “No, do not scowl at me, Lord Chetan—I am asking. Tell me.”
“Elder Bhumika, you and your temple council are well aware that we struggle for food. For grain, for rice, for meat.”
“Ahiranya has struggled for many years. And my council and I are ensuring that the rot does not spread to further fields. We will have crops enough,” Bhumika replied.
“Trade is dwindling,” he retorted immediately. “The merchants beyond our borders are frightened of us.” Of you, he did not say. Of the power in you.
But she heard it. Oh, she heard it.
“Empress Malini’s allies trade with us,” Bhumika pointed out.
And what a relief it had been, when the first Srugani merchants had arrived—just as Empress Malini had promised they would, in her official message to the temple elders of Ahiranya.
I keep my vows, she’d written. Bhumika hoped that would continue to hold true.
“And even were that to change, Ahiranya must of course learn to rely upon our own strength. These are… unpredictable times, Lord Chetan. We have a duty to strive for self-reliance.”
His mouth thinned. “If I may be so bold,” he said.
She inclined her head in permission.
“We have so long relied on support from the empire,” he said. “I—and many of my fellows—are not convinced our country can survive alone. If the elder would consider other forms of diplomacy…”
Bhumika sipped her tea. Set the cup down gently.
“No one would wed me now, Lord Chetan,” she said. “My fellow elders would not be a suitable prospect, either.”
“I did not mean—”
“Did you not? Forgive me. I am not sure what other avenues of diplomacy are available to us,” she said evenly.
“I could, of course, plead for mercy for Ahiranya and lay down my life. But Emperor Chandra would still visit punishment upon us. I do not mean to be combative, of course, Lord Chetan,” Bhumika went on, allowing her voice to soften.
“But the emperor is not a kind man or a forgiving one. We are lucky that he has been so thoroughly distracted by rebellion and upheaval in his own empire, or Ahiranya’s borders would be swarming with even more Parijatdvipan soldiers than they already are.
As it is, my sister and I have dealt with enough of them to know that the emperor does not view Ahiranya as a friend. ”
“And what became of those men?” Chetan asked. “Those Parijatdvipan soldiers? I have not seen them, and I promise you my guards patrol my estate diligently.”
Bhumika thought of giving him a demonstration of power.
But no. She was trying to maintain a fine balance.
She needed him intimidated but not alienated.
Loyal, despite all his misgivings. She took another sip of her tea.
“I skewered them through. I am efficient, Lord Chetan. If you have seen no imperial soldiers, it is because my sister and I left none alive. I see no way he would not inflict punishment on all of us for that, elder and highborn alike.”
Chetan said nothing.
“My lord, your line is ancient,” she went on.
“Your ancestry is almost as illustrious as my own. Since your early youth, when you rose to the head of your family, you have spent a significant portion of your coin on funding rebellion. Many of the mask-keepers who serve upon the temple council were aided by you.” And you did not think on how we would survive then, she thought with a savageness she did not allow to touch her face, her voice.
You merely played at rebellion. You liked the sweetness of the idea, and never considered the bitterness that reality would bring.
“We cannot reclaim the glory we had under the empire,” she said, to soothe his feelings.
There had been no real glory, of course.
But the empire had assured the highborn of wealth and security, and now that that promise was gone, they were faced with a shadow of the same realities all Ahiranyi faced—of hunger and of instability, of an unkind world.
It was a shock to them. But they would have to adjust to it.
“What we have now is hard won, and we will struggle to hold it. Perhaps you think we would be safer and happier under Emperor Chandra. Or perhaps you think there are highborn better suited to the task of ruling Ahiranya, who could step into the place of the council—”
“Lady Bhumika—”
She raised a hand to stop him.
“It does not matter,” she said. “I don’t seek to see into your heart.
I have the utmost respect for your suffering.
I think of what my uncle would have faced, had he lived through what befell the city, and I…
” A pause. “I mourn for what you’ve lost,” she said, to remind him of what she had lost. “But you need the strength of the temple council. The magic within me and my fellows. If you wish to hold on to what wealth and privilege remains to you, you will remain steadfast in your loyalty to me and mine, and an independent Ahiranya. Or everything you love will fall.”
“As you say,” he managed.
“I would, of course, accept children of our highborn as temple children,” she told him.
“I would never deny my fellow highborn their right to rule alongside the elders, in whatever capacity you choose. But it is a dangerous path, as you know. Better, I think, if we work as allies. Come to the next audience, Lord Chetan. Advise me. Steer our country. Or send me your youngest child, if you wish. There are many choices before you. But Chandra is not one of them.”