Garuda shuddered and bowed his head. "I had nearly reached the palace when another bird flew by-an ill favored, ungainly creature who had the gall to mock me. 'What's this? he called. 'A plucked chicken ready for the oven? He kept up his taunts and jeers until I could stand no more. Goaded by pride and anger, forgetting the prize I carried, I opened my beak to answer insult with insult.
"I dropped the ruby," Garuda said in a choked voice. "It fell into a mountain lake. I swooped down, dove into the icy water, again and again. Soaked and freezing, I searched until I could search no more. I had lost the gem, past finding.
"I was too ashamed to face my master. So I never went back. I hid myself deep in this forest." Garuda broke off his account and gave way to sighs and moans.
"Poor bird," Mirri said. "No wonder he's in such a state."
"I can help him set things right," Tamar said, while Mirri stroked Garuda's ruffled feathers. Tamar reached into his jacket. "Garuda, I have something to show you."
"What, something else to aggravate me?" Garuda snapped. "Let me be. I don't want to see it."
"I think you do." Tamar drew out the ruby and held it glittering in his palm. "Do you recognize this? Is it the one you lost?"
Garuda stared at the gem. For a moment, his beak opened and shut silently; then he burst into furious squawks: "Shmaa! That's it! How did you get your hands on it? Where? Stolen, I'm sure. You're keeping it for yourself, just to torment me."
"A gift I didn't ask for and didn't want," Tamar said, ignoring Garuda's reproaches. "It has followed a strange path back to you, but here it is. Carry it to your master. Your dharma will be whole again. Take it. That pays my debt to you."
"Oh, no, it doesn't," Garuda retorted. "Miserable creature!" Hashkat burst out. "It's worth more than some frowsy nest."
"Correct," agreed Rajaswami. "A most generous settlement."
"No." Garuda snapped his beak. "What, in my condition? Look at me! I hardly know what I'm doing from one day to the next. Sometimes I even forget how to flap my wings. Shmaa! I'm not the eagle I used to be."
"For certain," muttered Hashkat. "I'd lose the jewel again before I was halfway to Mahapura," Garuda rattled on. "Can you see me in those mountains? Me? Alone, friendless, scorned."
"Mahapura?" Tamar broke in, shaken to hear the name. "Between the mountains Kumeru and Sumeru?"
"Where else would it be?" said Garuda. "Who is king there?"
"As I said-or did I say?" Garuda replied. "I think of him often. Sometimes I dream about him, and see his kindly, wrinkled old face, his snow-white beard. I wish I could forget; the memory pains me too much. The king? Oh, yes. A great ruler: King Jaya."
Tamar caught his breath. He glanced at Rajaswami. "That's not the same one I diced with. Yet, one calling himself Jaya commanded me to his palace in Mahapura." He drew closer to Garuda. "What more can you tell me of this king? I journey to see him."
"You can first explain to me what you're talking about," said Mirri. As Tamar began his account, she listened more and more intently. When he finished, she said quietly, "You told me none of this before."
"Who cares what he told or didn't tell? Who cares how or why a bunch of snakes got the ruby?" squawked Garuda. "What about it right now? You carry it for me; you're going to Mahapura anyway. That's the least you can do. You owe me that much, and a lot more besides."
"You'd trust me with it?" said Tamar. "Of course not," Garuda snapped back. "I'll be keeping an eye on you every step of the way."
"There's a joyful prospect," said Hashkat. When Tamar agreed to hold the gem in safekeeping, Garuda seemed grudgingly satisfied. Mirri did not. She beckoned for Tamar to follow her a little way across the clearing.
"I don't want His Monkey ship eavesdropping on us," she said, leading him to the side of a huge anthill, its peaks and pinnacles head and shoulders taller than Tamar himself. "You and I have something to settle."
"Yes, we do." Tamar sat down at the foot of the ant castle. "One thing, first: Why did you leave the Choosing?"
"Why did you?"
"It was for the best."
"You could have asked my opinion about that."
"What would you have said?"
"Had you waited," replied Mirri, "you'd have found out." Tamar shook his head. "I had no right to stay in the village. Do you think I didn't want to? I had no right to ask or offer anything. How could I? My life isn't my own. Do you understand that now?"
"I understand you pledged your life to someone who might not even exist. Yes, I understand that very well, and it makes no sense to me."
"To me, it does," Tamar insisted. "At first I doubted. I thought it could have been a dream. Now, Garuda talks about a realm called Mahapura and a king named Jaya."
"A king nothing like the one who came to you in Sundari."
"That puzzles me," said Tamar. "I don't know what to make of it. I'm still not sure; but sure enough to keep on with my journey. If I'm right."
"If you're right." Mirri bit her lips and looked away "you'll find your death waiting for you at the end of it."
"You forget I'm a warrior. We learn how to die." Tamar took Mirri's face between his hands. "I promised only my life to Jaya. Not my heart."
Before Mirri could answer, Hashkat scuttled up. "You two, come! Better not stay here."
"Let us alone, will you?" Mirri burst out. "Can't you see we're talking?"
"I'll go away." Hashkat shrugged his shoulders. "I don't think they will."
The monkey drew Tamar from the wall of the anthill and pointed across the clearing. From the distant fringe of trees, four riders galloped toward them. "Quick! They've seen us, but if we run for those woods."
"Why should we do that?" asked Tamar. "They have swords."
"So do I."
"We don't know who they are."
"Then I'll find out. Stay by Rajaswami. Mirri will go with you." Tamar stepped away from the hill and waited for the horsemen to come closer. Though Hashkat had scurried off, the girl was still there. "Go with the monkey. As I said."
"Are you king of Sundari again? A royal command?"
"They're warriors. I know how to deal with them."
"They're men. I know how to deal with them."
By now the horsemen had reined up and dismounted some paces away. One beckoned and called out: "You, huntsman! Here. Lord Kana wants to see you."
"He sees me." Tamar folded his arms. The man scowled and muttered something to the tallest of the riders, who was richly dressed in embroidered vest and kilt, a silk scarf draped casually over his shoulders. With long, fair hair held by a gold headband, an arrogant arch to his high-bridged nose, he was, Tamar recognized, not only a warrior but a noble of highest station.
Lord Kana, as Tamar knew he must be, stood for a moment studying him with an air of amused contempt; then, his attendants following, he took a few strides forward.
"Ashwara is in sorry state," remarked Kana, looking Tamar up and down, "if he seeks help from a common huntsman, let alone a shudra herd boy.
"What have you to do with him?" Kana's voice hardened. "Are you to meet him here? Is that why you signaled? We saw the smoke, as could anyone for miles around. That was not clever of you."
"We signaled no one," Tamar coldly replied. "I have never heard of this Ashwara, whoever he is or whatever state he may be in."
"He's lying," muttered one of the attendants.
"Perhaps," said Kana. "Perhaps not. These folk are too simpleminded to be good liars. Or, they might be excellent ones."
Tamar's face flushed. "I told you the truth. Now, you tell me who you are. I hear accusation in your words and I have been called a liar, which I do not accept."
"Temper your own words, huntsman." Kana's chin went up. "You speak above your caste. Respect your betters."
"I do," replied Tamar, paying no heed to Mirri nudging him to hold his tongue. "When I meet them."
"We were only burning some vines," Mirri hastily put in, as Kana's face tightened. "We have no idea what
you're talking about. We're on our way north, in company with a devout brahmana." Kana, turning closer attention to Mirri, clapped his hands and gave a drawling laugh. "Herd boy? No, by heaven, a gopi! Let's have a better look at the creature. If it were properly groomed, and rid of the cow-barn stink, even I would make room for it in my kennel."
"Your kennel is no doubt already crowded," Mirri answered, tightening her grip on Tamar's arm as he angrily tried to lunge forward. "I prefer cows to dog-fanciers, in any case."
"A quick tongue! All the better." Kana hesitated, then sighed and shook his head. "Unfortunately, I have no time for pleasure."
"Your loss," Mirri said. "Not mine."
"I seek a traitor, not a passing amusement." Kana stood for some moments studying Mirri and Tamar, then waved a hand. "These are not Ashwara's people," he told an attendant. "They interest me no longer. Come."
"Hold." Tamar flung free of Mirri's grasp. "We are not finished, you and I."
"Idiot!" Mirri whispered. "What are you doing?"
"What I must."
"Let be, you fool. Walk away."
"I have been thought a liar, accused falsely of what I know nothing." Tamar's hand went to his sword as he faced Kana. "You have spoken ill to a woman. No affront goes unanswered, and so I answer yours now. Kshatriya, arm yourself."
"A ferocious fellow, indeed." Kana raised his eyebrows in mock terror. "And a vexing one. Let me teach you better conduct."
Kana suddenly swung up his arm and with the back of his hand struck Tamar full in the face. "There, boy. Study that lesson."
Tamar snatched out his sword, unmindful of the blood streaming from his mouth. "Your men will stand away," he said, between clenched teeth. "You and I only. In single combat. By the warrior's code."
"You challenge me? I accept no challenge from inferiors. I do not fight them." Kana drew his blade. "I slaughter them."
10. Ashwara
Tamar flung Mirri behind him. Kana's men had drawn their blades. Tamar crouched, his glance darting from one warrior to another, his sword point flickering. "Which of you?" he cried. "Come!"
Kana himself was first to spring forward. His sword hissed in a long, slicing stroke. Tamar caught its edge on the hilt of his blade, then threw himself against the kshatriya, jolting him back. One of the warriors leaped past Kana to thrust at Tamar's face, while the others attacked his open flank. Tamar spun around, whirling his blade in a flashing circle.
Rajaswami clapped his hands to his head and stammered unheeded protests. Hashkat, meantime, went bounding toward the anthill. Teeth bared, he pummeled one of Kana's retainers about the head and shoulders. The warrior, more astonished than hurt by this onslaught from a monkey nearly as big as himself, swung his blade, missed widely, then kicked out to send Hashkat to the ground.
Garuda, screeching at the top of his voice, flew back and forth, beating his wings and pecking at the assailants. Kana had stepped into the fray again, but Mirri scooped up a handful of loose dirt and gravel and threw it with all her strength into his face.
Darshan had taught him well, but Tamar's opponents were more seasoned, craftier kshatriyas; nor had he reckoned on them breaking the warrior's code by setting upon him all at once. His skill counted little against sheer weight of numbers, and he was growing arm-weary fending off attacks from every side. Against all honor, one of Kana's men launched a blow at Mirri. Raging, forgetting the others, Tamar leaped in front of her and furiously beat the blade aside.
Another of Kana's retainers seized the chance to spring at Tamar, but the man stiffened as though frozen in midstroke. Eyes staring, mouth agape, he dropped the blade and plucked at the chakra, the sharp-edged iron discus thrown with all force to lodge in his chest.
"Kana! Kana! Face me!" From the edge of the clearing ran the man who had flung this deadly missile. He was tall, big-framed, in deerskin vest and kilt. His tawny hair hung about his shoulders; his golden eyes blazed. Sword raised, he strode past the fallen warrior, making straight for Kana. Leaving Tamar where he stood, the remaining attendants sprang to challenge the stranger. Before Tamar could help him, the newcomer swung a deep-cutting blow at one and, in the same instant, sent the other sprawling.
Kana raced to mount his horse. The attendants, one bleeding heavily, stumbled to their own horses and galloped after him. The stranger made no attempt at pursuit and was about to turn away when Tamar approached him.
"I thank you for your help." Tamar pressed his palms together. "Who are you, to have risked your life for us? I think," he added, "you are called Ashwara." The man's lion eyes glittered. "Yes."
"Also called a traitor." Ashwara smiled bitterly. "When a man does a crime against another, what better than to cry treachery? It Is a balm for his conscience."
"Kana accused us of signaling you," Tamar said. "Why? It was not us but you that he was seeking."
"And found me," said Ashwara. "He knows where I am, which is more than he knew yesterday. I regret that. It makes my task more difficult.
"I too saw the smoke and wondered what caused it," Ashwara went on. "You and your friends seemed no threat to me, and I would have gone my way. When Kana and his people set upon you, in all honor I could not have let him kill you. He would have spared none of you, not even the brahmana."
"We are all in your debt," Tamar said. "You did us a service, traitor or not."
"Judge what I am when you know more," Ashwara said.
"I already know you're very quick at killing people," said Mirri.
"Only my enemies," Ashwara replied. "As for that, one duty remains." He glanced at the warrior on the ground. "I took his life. I will not disgrace his death."
The tawny-haired man bent and lifted the figure as if it weighed nothing and carried it beyond the trees. Mirri watched until he disappeared into the overgrowth.
"He frightens me a little," she said in a low voice. "I don't know what to make of him. He kills a man without batting an eye, then he's tenderly concerned for his body. I have a feeling he draws trouble like a honeypot draws flies."
"He's in worse trouble now," Tamar said. "He put himself at risk because of us. If he hadn't stopped to help."
"And if you hadn't challenged Kana."
"Be that as it may, my dear gopi," Rajaswami said.
"We must look on the bright side. We are missing no bodily parts or essential organs and have survived undamaged."
"Speak for yourself, you silly brahmana," cackled Garuda. "What about me? Harassed, aggravated, put upon."
"We're grateful to you," Tamar began. "You did your best for us."
"For you lot?" snapped the bird. "For my ruby! Suppose you'd been chopped to pieces? Where would that leave me? Suppose they'd taken the ruby from your horribly mangled cadaver? A fine fix I'd be in!"
"So would we all." Mirri turned to Tamar. "That's one thing. The other is: We shouldn't have been in a fix to begin with. If only you'd kept your mouth shut."
"How could I? He offended you, insulted me, struck me. By the warrior's code."
"Yes, well, my code is: Use common sense. You should have just walked away. Your warrior's honor might have got us all killed. As it is, there's one man dead."
"Two, in fact," put in Ashwara, who had come back to join them. "The second has his death wound. He will not live out the day. It is my fault. I am sorry."
"And should be," said Mirri.
"Sorry I did not slay them all," Ashwara continued, to Mirri's dismay. "Kana dishonored himself when he did not stand against me. I would have pursued him, but I have already been too long delayed. No matter. He counts little, and there will be another time.
"But now let me see closer who has turned me off my path." Ashwara folded his arms and looked around with curiosity. "A bird of some sort."
"Eagle," said Garuda "and a remarkably large monkey. A charming young gopi disguised as a herd boy. A huntsman who fights like a warrior."
"We already know who we are," put in Mirri, "which is more than we can say about you."
/> "It is no secret." Ashwara pressed his palms together and inclined his head toward Mirri. "I am the king of Rana-pura."
"Amazing!" Hashkat clapped his hands. "Yet another king!"
"Be quiet, Your Royal Monkey ship," Mirri said. "I want to know why this one's hiding in a forest."
"For much of it, I blame myself." Ashwara bent his long legs and set his back against the anthill. "For some time, there had been whispers that my kinsman, Lord Nahusha, was scheming to seize my kingdom for himself. I turned a deaf ear, refusing to believe them.
"Nahusha was of my blood, he had sworn allegiance to me," Ashwara went on. "That he would break dharma, forfeit sacred honor by treachery? Impossible. Yet, as I found out only later, he had promised lands and riches to neighboring princes if they would support his plot; he turned many high officers and ministers against me as well. At the end, he sought to slay my two brothers and myself."
"He dared even that?" Tamar said. "A kshatriya and your own kinsman?"
"Even that." Ashwara nodded grimly. "Nahusha, all smiles and loving concern, offered us a pleasure-cottage on his estate. He urged us to take our ease there, hunt in his park, boat on his lake, and enjoy his openhanded hospitality a little while. Unwitting, my brothers and I accepted this poisoned generosity."
Ashwara's golden eyes flashed as he continued. "Nahusha had made the house a firetrap, soaked the roof, walls, and rafters with oil and wax.
"Kana, Nahusha's nephew, willingly agreed to set it ablaze while we slept. A loyal servant warned us in time. The cottage burned to ashes, but we escaped. We went into hiding, knowing that Nahusha would murder us if we were found.
"He crowned himself king of Ranapura and occupied my city with his troops. Since then, he has ruled by terror and torture. Those who so much as murmur protest are imprisoned or slain. Of his own officers, the ones who urged even some small measure of moderation were put to a slow death. I have heard that Nahusha himself watches with pleasure as they die in agony. I have heard, as well, that he seeks to spread his rule beyond Ranapura. No kingdom may call itself truly safe."
The Iron Ring Page 6