Chapter 31 Help Granted Is Not Always Help Wanted #2
“And even if we were to stay,” continued Prince Veer, “there’s no telling how many more soldiers are going to be sent next time. Thianvelli has better resources than what we have, even if we count all the men you can spare and the bandits that have helped.”
Aradatta nodded slowly, going over the logistics and realizing the truth of his words. “So, what do you propose, Prince Veer?”
Veer spoke to Billadev, and he nodded and left.
“Kalpeet is near,” said Veer. “I can have a garrison come here in two days, if you agree.”
“Two days!” said Aradatta in astonishment. “It would take at least three days of hard journey to reach Kalpeet and return. And as much, if not longer, to mobilize the army, and have them reach here.”
“Do you doubt my word?”
“No! I just…wondered how it is humanly possible to get troops here in half the time it typically takes, that’s all.”
Veer gave him a sideways look as Billadev returned with a wide, shallow bowl full to the brim with water.
“Perhaps you’ll have a better idea of my methods with this demonstration and decide for yourself if you still want my help.”
Veer took a grayish-green stone out of his pocket, blew on it and dropped it into the water. It gently thunked to the bottom. The reflection of the flames rippled in the water and then became still.
Suddenly, the water went black as the reflection winked out. A face peered out of the smooth surface.
Aradatta gave a shocked exclamation and stood up.
“Veer?! What the…what time is it? Why are you calling me in the dead of night?” King Bheesmala’s reflection in the water still showed traces of sleep. Then his eyes snapped to alertness the minute he seemed to realize the soot on his son’s face and that he had an audience.
“Hello, Father,” greeted Veer. “Allow me to introduce Aradatta, the captain of the temple city.”
Aradatta faltered for a minute about how to greet the reflection of a person of high importance, before settling for joining his hands in namaste. He struggled to think past his shock at the discovery that the prince was a wizard.
Veer brought his father up to speed quickly.
“We need troops here to the temple city as soon as you can spare.”
It was a mark of how battle ready Rajgarh was and how trusted Prince Veer was that the king didn’t even blink an eye but asked simply, “How many do you need?”
Veer named a number that caused Aradatta to raise his brows. Doubts crept in as he wondered what he was getting himself—and the city—into. He recalled the rumors of the prince’s lust for power and his battle prowess once he set his sights on something.
Aradatta would hate to be the one on whose watch the temple city lost its fabled independence. The discovery that the prince was a wizard didn’t help matters either. Everyone knew you couldn’t trust those magic wielders.
“We shall see to the organizing of the troops once they get here and make sure the temple city is secure before we leave,” said Veer.
“I’d like to be part of that process as well,” Aradatta hastened to add, feeling like control was slipping from his grasp.
“As you wish,” said Veer with raised eyebrows. “Do I take that as an agreement that you are willing to accept help from us?”
Aradatta hesitated.
A chink sounded as the last of the arrows, neatly numbered in Brahmi, was placed on the ground by the princess. Perfect timing as Aradatta needed a minute to comprehend that he was accepting help from a wizard.
King Bheesmala had already retired from water mirror, its reflection once again showing dancing flames.
The hour had gone late, only a few weary people remained; most of them had found a place to shelter, to catch a few hours’ sleep wherever they could.
Outside, though, past the city gates, a clutch of men were stationed, keeping watch in rotating shifts through the night.
The torches they carried wavered in the gusts of wind.
The princess had moved away from their conversation a while ago, and now seemed to have finished collecting her arrows. Kneeling on one knee, in a typical archer’s crouch, she suspended the bow horizontally above the ground, clasping it in the middle with one hand.
With her other hand, she stretched the empty string of the bow taut, as if she was aiming an arrow up into the sky. Her hand clasped the center of the bow, with the index finger pointing up.
The remaining people watched wide-eyed as the princess got ready to launch one of her magical arrows.
Aradatta realized that the prince was watching as well, with rapt attention, their conversation seemingly forgotten.
A strange atmosphere surrounded her, as if the air held itself still in anticipation.
King Amarendra’s mark, drawn in her own blood, shone across her forehead like a beacon.
Her eyes were closed and the dark semicircle of eyelashes cast long shadows on her cheeks, accentuating her facial bones, giving her an austere appearance in the wavering light.
The only noise was the crackle of the fire, snapping and burning, and the rustle of coconut fronds as wind whipped them into swaying.
“Vyaam.” The seed word dropped into the silence.
The arrows on the ground vibrated. They lifted, rose to the air as if strung by invisible strings. Ten, twelve…twenty feet, they suspended airborne for the time it took to take a deep breath.
And then, with a whistling sound, they hurtled toward the ground, aiming straight for her.
Aradatta felt the prince tense beside him, he seemed a split second away from pulling her to safety.
But the arrows didn’t strike her. Instead, they were drawn toward her bow, like iron filings to a magnet, coalescing together to form a single, sturdy black arrow, now tightly strung across her bow.
She carefully lessened the tension of the string, until she had the fused arrow, a pitch-black bolt with an iron head and distinct helical fletching, in her hands.
A few people cheered and clapped, like they had watched a clever magician’s show.
“Tell me something, Captain,” came Prince Veer’s contemplative voice. “Why does this not bother you? It is, after all, similar to what I’ve done. And yet you hesitate because you saw me use magic and decided that I wasn’t trustworthy, based on a talent I was born with.”
Aradatta chose his words with care. He saw no point in denying that Prince Veer’s powers didn’t unsettle him. The prince may be a war general but he was also a shrewd reader of people, and he reminded himself to be careful in his presence.
“The mark the princess carries was one used by King Amarendra, the person who built great things, even this very temple we are standing in. People associate that mark with good things. Agrani doesn’t remember every single detail, but she recalls that people who bear the mark go through rigorous and painful training for it.
So, their actions are never hasty or thoughtless. That is part of the reason.”
“And what’s the other part?”
“The princess is from Amaravathi…”
“Ah, that explanation is more like it,” Veer said mirthlessly, gazing into the fire. “You would consider Amaravathi as trustworthy, but not a kingdom like mine, which had sworn to see the well-being of the Saptavarsha. Why don’t you admit it is a blind prejudice that drives your decisions?”
Aradatta shifted guiltily, knowing what the prince said was partly the truth. He opened his mouth to apologize, but the prince forestalled him by raising a hand.
“I don’t need an apology from you. I am, instead, going to ask you for something. You could consider it a request in exchange for the help we offer,” he said, tearing his gaze away from the dancing flames.
Aradatta gazed at him in wary silence, waiting, wondering what he was going to demand and how much they could afford or what form that payment would take.
“Open the temple to everyone,” said Veer, surprising Aradatta with his simple request. “Like it had been in King Amarendra’s time.” A slight smile softened the prince’s face, as if he understood his request was most unusual. “You know it’s the right thing to do.”
Aradatta stared at him, mouth agape. He hadn’t been expecting such a behest from the ruthless prince. “I…I, of course, we can do that,” he stammered. “But I confess, I’m amazed that you care about such things, Prince Veer.”
“I don’t,” said Veer bluntly. “But my wife does. I’m making this request for her.”
Aradatta considered the prince, aware that trusting this person was going to be a gamble. But a gamble with good odds. Any man who gave that much importance to his wife’s wishes couldn’t be all bad. He sent up a brief prayer to Lord Brihadeeshwar and answered the prince’s earlier question.
“Prince Veer, we accept your offer of help with deepest gratitude and hope that this association becomes an indicator of stronger ties in the future between our respective lands.”
* * *
Veer pondered Aradatta’s words a few hours later as he searched for his wife. He finally found her in one of the sick tents, helping Matangi administer medicine to a poisoned person.
“I need to speak to you,” he said, crouching on one knee.
“Give me a couple minutes,” said Chandra, her reluctance obvious. She probably expected him to yell at her for disobeying his instructions.
“It’s urgent, Chandra,” he said, a bit impatiently, in no mood to pacify her when it happened to be true. He was still fuming at the way she had been careless with her safety.
“Lady asked for couple minutes,” said Matangi in a sharp voice, causing both Chandra and Veer to stare at her. Matangi’s face flushed, but her mouth pinched into a mulish line. “Sorry, Your Majesty,” she whispered, lowering her eyes.
Chandra allowed herself to be dragged away after that, pausing to grab her quiver she had set against a pillar.
“You seem to have acquired a new enthusiast,” said Veer, peering back over his shoulder as he led her toward an isolated grove of coconut trees, which somehow escaped the heat of the flames.
“What?” she said and squinted back as well.