“He is,” Esther says. “In fact, he brought me this today; he found it near the southern boundary, where our battle took place last night.”
She holds up a broken arrowhead, its gold point glistening in the sunlight. Small firestones glint at the center of the arrowhead, forming a perfect triangle.
“This is no ordinary arrowhead. This is—”
“—the tip of a Sky Warrior’s atashban,” I finish, my heart sinking.
“Did you find a Sky War—” Cavas begins sharply.
“No,” Esther reassures. “But more living specters faded this morning—this time at the northern boundary. I was with Raja Subodh this morning, checking on them. Three specters faded right before my eyes. As of now, Indu and Latif are scouring the border for any other infiltrations.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. Cavas is no better, his complexion turning ashen.
“There’s no need to panic yet,” Esther says, forcing a smile. “But I’m glad you’ll begin training with us, Gul. Properly training with us. I have to go now. I’ll see you later at patrol, Cavas.”
“Yes, Esther Didi.”
I feel Cavas’s eyes on me as we enter the mess hall, grateful he can’t see the mess of knots my stomach is in.
In the desert, food is meager and rationed closely, our meal today consisting of a whole peeled orange and a few dried dates. Normally, like Cavas, I would inhale whatever is placed before me. Today, every bite feels like a chore. While in the past I was mostly ignored by the Legion, this morning they watch me the way a flock of hungry shvetpanchhi would eye a lone rat—ready to pounce at any sign of weakness.
“So it’s true?” I hear someone say in a voice clearly meant to carry. “She can do death magic?”
“She can.” After last night, Roda’s sarcastic tone is instantly identifiable. “Though I’m not sure she’ll live up to the promise she made Raja Subodh and Esther Didi.”
I swallow the last bit of orange, the juice like acid in my throat.
Yes, I can do magic, I want to tell these women. I can also kill people. I’ve done it before, without mercy.
The crown prince of Ambar and his brother might have been blots on the human race, but I haven’t forgotten how I lost control over my magic that day, how I relished losing control. Had it not been for Cavas, I might have killed Prince Amar as well—completing Shayla’s dirty work for her.
I force myself to finish the last bite of date—though, by now, my appetite is completely gone.
“Are you okay?” Cavas asks.
“I have to use the restroom,” I lie, rising to my feet, not daring to meet any gazes directed my way.
The living specters are fading. Tavan’s boundary may be full of new holes by now. Though Esther didn’t say it, I know that Latif’s finding the tip of the atashban has changed everything. The bounty hunters from last night might have very well been a test—sent by the Sky Warriors to see how weak we truly are.
I step out into the courtyard, where Agni is nibbling on some grass, her red coat gleaming, her mane brushed to a fiery glow. Sensing my presence, the mare lifts her head, almost knocking me over in an attempt to nuzzle me.
What are you doing here? I ask her, whispering through the bond we formed a little more than two years ago. Why aren’t you at the reservoir?
The reservoir is where I normally find Agni lounging during the day, when she isn’t chasing living specters around the temple. Animals can also see living specters—when the spirits bother revealing themselves, Agni told me.
Some of the specters kept spooking Ajib, Agni says. I got tired of them as well. Indu is the worst of the lot.
A pang goes through me at the mention of Ajib, the only one of Juhi’s stallions who survived the dust storm on our way here. On a normal day, I would sympathize with Agni about the specters, but right now, I think of what Esther revealed to me earlier today about Indu being her sister. I recall one of the visions I saw in a dust dream three months earlier—a young gray-faced girl with pigtails and a ripped tunic leading me through Tavan’s front gates. I wonder now if that had been Indu as well.
Does Dream Dust allow us to see living specters?
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” a voice speaks right in my ear before blowing in it.
Indu cackles when I move back with a start, nearly falling. I scowl. I forgot that specters could read minds if they so choose.
“Esther said you were scouring the city for Sky Warriors,” I say, changing the subject. “Did you find any?”
“If I did, I wouldn’t be playing pranks on the likes of you, would I, Star Warrior?” Indu retorts.
Agni nudges my shoulder—Don’t you have training or something? she asks. I force myself to turn back in the direction of the city temple, its sandstone walls weathered with time, ancient magic thrumming under the surface of the rock.
Inside the temple, the Pashu king is on all fours between two overhanging bells in front of the sanctum, studying the stone faces of the gods. Once Cavas arrives, we settle cross-legged on the ground behind Subodh, who finally turns around, getting straight to the point:
“Have either of you meditated before?”
“I haven’t,” I say. “I know Kali and Amira meditated in the past to restore their drained magic.”
“I’ve seen people meditate in the tenements,” Cavas says. “Papa told me stories about non-magi gaining magical powers by praying to the gods. Not that I saw anything happen on my watch. There was nothing going on there except a lot of deep breathing,” he adds wryly.
“Breathing deeply is, indeed, a form of meditation,” Subodh says. “Though you need to understand that it takes enormous willpower and years, if not decades, of dedication to obtain magic if you aren’t born with any—or to regain magic once it’s lost. The sort of meditation we’ll practice today is different and wouldn’t be possible if you both didn’t have preexisting magic. Ritual chants will not be enough here. Neither will the wakeful slumber of an ascetic. This is meditation that’s used in battle—that turns your whole body into a weapon. The Pashu have used it in wars for centuries. Humans have used it, as well, to great effect.”
Meditation? In battle?
Amid the seething mass of nerves in my belly, I feel other emotions stirring. Excitement. Intrigue.
“Humans place a lot of stock in the power of magic,” Subodh continues. “But magic in the hands of an untrained mind can be dangerous. To master your magic in battle, you will need to master your mind first. And that’s where meditation comes into play.”
Use your mind, princess.
Amira’s words echo in my head, and for the first time, ever since I came here, I feel the tension dissipate from my shoulders. I’ve done this before. With the exception of whispering, every type of magic I’ve performed has been by using my mind, mostly by focusing on memories that have made me feel safe.
“Stand, please,” Subodh instructs. “You aren’t going to use any weapons today, but I want you to face each other, your legs braced slightly apart.”
Cavas and I do so after a moment of awkwardness.
“Now, for this first exercise, I simply want you to listen to the sounds of your body,” Subodh says. “To your breaths, your sighs, to the blood flowing through your veins. What we’re looking for is called sthirta—or a state of stillness.”
So that’s what it’s called, I think, relieved to finally put a word to the calm that comes over me when I whisper to animals or raise a magical shield, or when I find the perfect memory to cast death magic.
“Normally, when people meditate, they close their eyes. You, on the other hand, will need to keep your eyes open during battle. It may be difficult at first, but still much easier once you concentrate on the power flowing through your veins—yes, you too, Xerxes-putra Cavas.”
Cavas’s chest rises and falls in a sharp intake of air. “I … I’ve never done it before. Accessed my magic, that is. It’s always been Gul who has drawn on my power.”
&nb
sp; “That’s not true,” I tell him. “You stopped me from casting a death spell against Rajku—Raja—Amar. You held back my power with your own.”
“And you will be able to do so again,” Subodh says. “The point of meditation is ultimately for you both to telepathically communicate with each other.”
“Telepathically? You mean like whispering?” I ask, surprised. “I thought humans couldn’t whisper to each other!”
“They can’t. What complements do isn’t exactly whispering, either,” Subodh says. “For one, whispering can be done only within a certain distance. As a whisperer, you can feel an animal’s pain, but you cannot share their powers. From what the Pashu have heard about the goddesses Sunheri and Neel, we know they shared powers in a battle between the gods and the great animal spirits centuries ago. Stories suggest that the two goddesses also could read each other’s minds from great distances. Now, I don’t know how that power will work in humans, but it can be safe to assume that it might be the same.”
I think I hear Cavas gasp, but I can’t be too sure. My mind is spinning from everything Subodh has suggested—the implications of the sort of power to which Cavas and I have access. Though the question is—
Do I really want that? Do I really want Cavas in my head, reading my innermost thoughts about him?
If my face were a piece of coal, it would spontaneously combust by now.
Cavas, on the other hand, simply frowns, as if mulling over something. His mouth opens and then snaps shut as Subodh begins speaking again.
“Before you begin meditating, think of the god or goddess you trust the most. Or if you don’t believe in the gods, think of magic itself, the overwhelming heat of it limning your hands. Often, your first choice will be your best one. Focus on that as you breathe. When you reach a state of sthirta, try to communicate with each other. Without speaking out loud.”
The sky goddess is the first to come to my mind, of course. Despite my apprehensions and what happened at Raj Mahal, she’s the one I focus on. I breathe in and out. In. Out. It takes a while, but eventually my breaths form a rhythm of sorts, merging in an unending circle.
A memory takes shape. I am a child of five or six, sitting in my mother’s kitchen, waiting impatiently for her to finish rolling hot jaggery, ghee, and sesame into perfect, spherical laddoos. I have learned that Ma will eventually let me have them—sometimes two or three at a time—if I don’t act on impulse and grab for them while they’re still cooling.
Today, I force myself to exercise the same sort of patience that I did with the laddoos. My heartbeat quickens, then steadies. Warmth gathers in my solar plexus, filling my whole body. It takes a moment to realize that I haven’t blinked once so far—and that, for some reason, it hasn’t bothered my vision.
Everything slows.
Cavas’s eyes flicker at half their normal speed, a ripple feathering his clenched jaw. His body emits a white glow; when I glance down, I realize mine is doing the same.
Cavas, I call out to him the way I’d whisper to Agni or any other animal. My voice sounds strange, lower than normal in my head. Can you hear me?
I wait for a response, but all I can hear is the sound of his breaths, filling the silence in a rush of air. My ribs expand, grow taut. Cavas? I reach out again.
You need to open your mind to him, daughter. The sky goddess’s voice is warm, the way it was in my dream. Next to Cavas’s struggling form, I see her begin to take shape: the spinning chakra on her right forefinger, her skin reflecting the colors of the morning sky. As complements, both of your minds possess strong barriers. You need to lower yours if you want him to reach you.
You’re here, I think, startled. I thought you … you …
You thought I abandoned you, she says gently.
You never answered when I called. All these months, when I was so confused, when I’d wondered if I was doing the right thing by holding back my magic.
I wanted you to make the decision on your own. The gods meddle with many things, but we do not meddle with your free will. That you are here of your own volition is a powerful first step. The rest will become easier with practice.
Late though it is, her advice calms my nerves. I focus on Cavas again, trying to open my mind to his thoughts. It’s hard, much harder than whispering or summoning death magic. Sweat pours down my forehead and back, a spike of pain bridging my nose and curving around the top of my spine. The scent of copper floods my nostrils, a dull thud pounding my head. Then I hear it. A voice.
Gul? Cavas sounds faint, strained. Can you hear me?
I think I answer him, but I can’t be sure. Spots have burst before my eyes, turning the world a brilliant, blinding white.
When I open my eyes again, I’m lying on the floor, the discordant sound of voices slowly filtering back in. A pair of faces stare at me from above: a boy and rajsingha, twin parts worry and astonishment marking their faces. I grow aware of several more things: I’m sweating like I’ve run five miles in the desert sun; there’s a terrible ache in my temples; and both of my nostrils are bleeding.
“I failed, didn’t I?” I try to joke.
“No,” Subodh says, his rumbling voice softer than I’d heard it before. “You were alarmingly successful. Both of you.”
“You began glowing really quickly,” Cavas says as he helps me sit up and hands me a clean cloth to hold against my nose. His eyes blink rapidly. Normal again. “I mean, I was shocked at how fast you did it. I had a tough time—lots of stops and starts before my skin began glowing. Then everything sort of … slowed down.” Cavas frowns. “I know this sounds strange—”
“It doesn’t,” Subodh says. Of the three of us, the rajsingha is the only one who looks unperturbed. “Go on.”
“There was a voice…” Cavas says. “I think it was the sky goddess. I couldn’t see her, but I think she was standing next to me. I heard her tell Gul to open her mind to me.”
“Is that what happened, Gul?” Subodh asks me.
“Yes.” I hesitate before adding, “I heard you, too—eventually. You called me by my name. And then I fainted.”
“Don’t worry; it’s a part of the process,” Subodh says. “And you were out for only a few seconds, Gul. Some minds are simply more receptive than others. Your mind is strong, child, but it’s also stubborn.”
“No surprises there,” I mutter, drawing a reluctant laugh from Cavas. “Maybe Cavas can share some tips on how he read my mind.”
“Good luck with that. I don’t know how it happened the first ti—I mean today.”
On another day, I might have missed it. But I’ve known Cavas long enough by now to register the slight hitch in his breath when he lies, the rapid flutter of his lashes as he evades my gaze.
“No,” I say slowly. “When you said ‘the first time,’ you didn’t mean today. You mean you’ve done this before. Right?”
There’s a sharpness in my tone that makes Cavas wince. Subodh remains quiet, his eyes shifting between the two of us.
“Only once.” Cavas clears his throat. “I, uh. I heard your thoughts. Last night—when I came to see you in your room. You were blaming yourself for my father’s death.”
Every part of my body grows numb for a split second. “So that’s why you left so suddenly. Because you heard my thoughts.”
“Yes.” There’s a worried look on his face. “I … I wanted to tell you this morning at the temple. But I didn’t know how.”
How about with: ‘Gul, I think I can read your mind and it’s freaking me out’?
I bite my tongue. Cavas isn’t used to having magic. I know—understand completely—how difficult and scary it must be to realize that he’s a complement to a girl whose death magic destroyed everything in her path. So why am I angry? Why do I feel hurt that Cavas doesn’t yet trust me?
You don’t trust him, either. At least, with your mind, a familiar voice rumbles in my head.
Subodh’s pale eyes reflect my flushed face, strands of hair sticking to my cheeks.
It took the Pashu centuries to develop our skills with whisper magic. You are but human.
“You both can have that conversation out loud, you know,” Cavas says, sounding annoyed. “I mean, I know you’re talking about me.”
“I was only thinking about how you were able to read Gul’s mind before,” Subodh lies smoothly. “I believe you did so when she was especially vulnerable, such as after a nightmare.”
“I thought meditation was supposed to strengthen our minds, not weaken them!” I say tightly.
“Strength and weakness aren’t separate from each other, Star Warrior. Those who are strong now have been weak in the past,” he says, looking somewhere at the pillars over my head. “Power always claims a price.”
Of course it does. It did with my mother, who begged the sky goddess for another daughter and then died to save me. It does with Juhi, who collapses nearly every time she makes a prophecy. The reminder makes me deflate, my anger departing nearly as quickly as it had arrived.
“Let’s stop training for today,” Subodh says, and I think I hear sympathy in his voice. “I will see you again tomorrow. Perhaps things will be better then.”
Cavas and I step out of the temple, and we walk awhile in silence.
“You’re still angry with me, aren’t you?” he asks when we reach the reservoir. I spot Ajib and Agni nearby, nibbling on grass, their glossy tails flicking in the heat. Sensing my presence, Agni looks up and nickers.
Later, I whisper, sending a calming thought her way.
I turn to study Cavas’s watchful face again and sigh. “Let’s move out of the sun for a bit.” Taking refuge in the shade of a nearby dhulvriksh, I finally say what’s on my mind:
“I was angry with you before. I’m not anymore. But I do worry at times that you don’t trust me. After our conversation yesterday, I thought … I mean, it’s not like I don’t have my own trust issues,” I admit. “There’s this part of me that’s constantly afraid of losing my magic. That hates the thought of being weak or helpless in any way. It’s why I reacted so badly, though you did the right thing by holding me back from killing Amar at Ambar Fort. I guess it’s why it was so difficult for me to open my mind to you this morning. The sky goddess knew, of course. She outright told me that my pride and my unwillingness to ask for help would lead to my downfall.”
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