Chapter 9 The Private Bargain
“Veer?” came the inquiry in a high, childish voice.
He shook himself up from a blank contemplation of a game of Snakes and Ladders, his thoughts far away. “It’s your turn,” said the child seated in front of him.
Veer smiled in genuine amusement. Despite all his seven years of age, which he insisted on reminding him often, Sarun’s presence here in the queen’s apothecary was unexpected, not altogether an unpleasant one for once.
He had come here to find Chandrasena’s mother, Queen Padmavathi, and to have a few words with her.
He had hoped to convince the queen that he didn’t mean any harm to her daughter—a bit of a feat considering his blatant knife throw during the meeting.
But he hadn’t been worried too much, confident in his powers of persuasion.
But that was before he found out that the queen was indeed under a vow of silence and refused to communicate with him by any means until her daughter was there.
He had been forced to cool his heels in the dark-thatched building for hours while waiting for the return of the princess, who had gone into the garden supposedly “to fetch herbs.”
“Roll your dice…” ordered the kid, in a way that felt surprisingly familiar, until Veer realized that it matched the princess’s haughty impatience to a tee.
A checkered game cloth was spread out on the table between them.
The ladders were rope, made in brown and red; the snakes were formed with threads in varying shades of green, yellow, and brown against a background of velvety blue.
The snake on the penultimate square was the nine-hooded, diamond-scaled king cobra, whose jet-black eyes were so expertly embroidered with tiny black stones that it seemed to watch their every move.
Veer moved his chariot token as Sarun counted aloud the squares, his eyes intent.
“Four, five, and…six. Oh no…you’re swallowed by a snake, Veer,” he said anxiously. He chewed on his lip for a moment, but then his face cleared. “Don’t worry, you can try again if you want. I’ll give you an extra turn.” The boy smiled, extending the bone-dice on his palm.
Veer couldn’t help but laugh at his attempt to sound…noble.
Sarun didn’t seem to care that he was in the company of a powerful prince.
Nor did the rumors and half-truths that floated around, once again, on Veer’s return, seem to bother him.
Sarun was the first person in Amaravathi who didn’t take an automatic step back on encountering him.
Who didn’t look at him with superficial deference, masking the suspicion in their heart.
It was a one-off, Veer knew. Even if Sarun was a young child and the son of Chandra’s maid, he should have been aware that he was speaking to an esteemed guest of high stature.
But a few well-placed questions answered that mystery. From the way the child spoke of “Chandra,” he knew who to thank for the lack of proper address.
The pound of mortar against the pestle brought him out of his thoughts once again.
Queen Padmavathi was the only other person in the apothecary, apart from him, Sarun and Billadev.
He gazed around the room, mildly amazed to find himself here.
With his sister’s healing skills and his own robust health, he had seldom needed to step into one of the healing houses of medicine.
But Amaravathi was famous for it and Chandra’s mother had dedicated her life to her gardens and her medicinal plants.
The building was basic in design, with stucco walls and a palm-thatched roof.
The walls were lined with shelves carrying exotic-looking plants in small pots.
A few woven jute bags filled with fertilizer slumped against a wall.
Garden implements lay piled up in another corner.
Yet more plants hung in pots suspended from the ceiling by intricately woven ropes.
Numerous vines crawled around the windowsills, interrupting the desultory flow of air.
It made for a warm and humid interior, much like the climate in Amaravathi at this time of year.
His sister would be thrilled if she were here, thought Veer absently
Amaravathi was a land of forests, woods, dales, and abundant rivers with a tropical climate.
It rained every day during the monsoon. Veer, who was more used to the arid conditions of the desert and mountains, felt like he was immersed in a steaming bath all day.
He didn’t mind it so much when he had a course of action, but sitting idly made him restless.
A familiar astringent scent cut through the air, instantly relieving the tension gathering in his shoulders. It was coming from the plant that was being pounded into an ointment.
Veer took a cautious sniff. “Lemon verbena,” he said, recognizing the childhood remedy his mother used for colds.
A pleased smile lit the queen’s austere face, and Veer got a shadowy glimpse of the beauty the queen must have wielded when she was younger, before bitterness and disappointment had wiped all the happiness from her face.
The queen’s story, he had heard, was one that was touched by both joy and sorrow.
A daughter of a sea-merchant family from Sumedh, she had by the merest of chances, crossed paths with King Chandraketu.
Captivated by her beauty, the king had married her, granting her the status of a queen.
This earned her a permanent hatred from his other queens, who were outraged that a commoner had been granted a status equal to them.
Chandra’s reckless crime on the evening of their marriage gave the other queens a perfect opportunity to fill the king’s ears with poison against Chandra and her mother.
He had done some digging about his wife since Sameera’s chide and came to know that what she had told him was true.
It was a sad tale. Not that he had anything to feel guilty about. What her family subjected Chandra to, in the name of punishment, had no bearing on him. He was only sorry that he didn’t know a lot, having avoided any news of his wife studiously, and had to learn quickly.
But the princess’s life here wasn’t like what he had imagined.
She may have appeared to accept the punishment, but Veer knew she was involved in…
something. And he would bet his best sword it likely had something to do with Guruji, that cunning minister who seemed to have his hand in all kinds of conspiracies.
More scents pervaded the air as the queen added additional herbs to the mortar and a few scant drops of what appeared to be a distillate of a purple bark swimming in a clean liquid.
Billadev was amusing himself by having a conversation with the queen, and if his animated gestures and her indulgent smile were anything to go by, they both were getting along swimmingly well.
Veer watched them for a while absently. He had heard the apothecary had been the queen’s solace—she spent most of her time immersed in gardening and in studies of medicinal plants.
If the royal gardens, which were said to be designed by her, were anything like the range of plants he had observed here in this small building, it would be a worthwhile visit.
Veer wondered if she knew what her daughter was up to.
Not that he had any chance of discovering it.
Chandra was too well protected. He watched the queen tie up packets of medicine with a practiced twist of hands and had the random thought that the princess and her mother were as different from each other as day from night.
Sure, they both had those colored eyes so rarely seen in the native people of Amaravathi.
But while Chandra’s dark brown ones crackled and burned with emotions, the queen’s hazel eyes seemed to bury all traces of it deep inside.
She signaled using sign language and looked expectantly at Billadev, who translated. “Lemon verbena is right. It is a component of an unguent that draws out poison from wounds.”
The queen went back to gathering medicinal supplies for their upcoming journey, even though he didn’t ask her for it.
Perhaps it was her way of apologizing for being so stubborn when it came to the matter of her daughter.
He wouldn’t refuse her gift, though; they would need it despite the healing stones he had in his possession.
Veer wondered what she would do if he broached the topic of her objection to send Chandra with him again. Probably ignore him, as she had done previously. It seemed like it was down to the princess, then. As Shota had said, the only one who could convince the queen was her own daughter.
* * *
Damn it! Where was Chandra? She had been gone for a good chunk of the afternoon. Dusky rays of sun were now throwing slanting bars of light on the ground at their feet. And Veer had taken to calling her by the same ridiculously short and masculine sounding name as everyone did.
Right on cue, a side door into the building opened on well-oiled hinges. A woman stepped inside. It took Veer more than a minute to recognize her.
Gone were the ornate jewelry and the gossamer clothes of yesterday. She was dressed in an earth-brown antariya—a lower garment, elaborately pleated and tucked at her hips, leaving her calves exposed.
A roughly woven cloth covered her upper torso, like a bandeau across her breasts, along with another long cloth, the uttariya or the upper garment.
It was wound around her waist and thrown over the shoulder, with the ends tucked at her midsection.
A thick silver ring encircled one delicate ankle.
She put down a woven basket of freshly harvested vegetables from the garden and straightened, brushing slick tendrils of dark hair stuck to her damp throat, leaving a streak of red soil on her cheek.
A speckled green gourd as large as his arm perched at her hip.
She looked like a peasant who had been grubbing in the garden.