The Iron Ring

by Lloyd Alexander

  "No harm, no harm," he called out, holding up his hands as Tamar reached for his sword. "I only beg a little warmth, a mouthful of food if you can spare it. My name's Griva."

  "I saw you before." Tamar looked closely at him. "In the ravine. Then, by the mound of boulders. Why are you following us?"

  "Am I?" Griva stepped all the way into the cave. He seemed to bring the night chill with him. "Following you? We only happen to find ourselves on the same path."

  "What path is that?"

  "I might ask you likewise. But, your business is your own and no concern of mine-unless we have an interest in common."

  "And that would be?" said Mirri.

  Griva's eyes darted around the cave. His weather blackened face folded into a grin. "Stones," he said.

  34. The Fire Flower

  "That's right. Stones. Bright, shiny ones. Gems, eh? You've found a few yourself, I'd not be surprised." He stamped the snow off his boots and started toward the cook fire. Tamar put out an arm to hold him back, but Griva shouldered past, skirted the pool, and hunkered down by the flames. "These mountains are full of them. They hide in all manner of nooks and crannies. Sometimes," he added, with a wink, "where you'd never think of looking. But I sniff them out and pry them loose."

  "That's not our business." Tamar drew his sword. "If it's yours, go on about it."

  Griva eyed the blade and gave a throaty laugh. "Now, now, no need to get the wind up. I'm no robber, if that's what you fear. Food and drink's all I ask. A little corner to sleep in. You'll not deny me that much, will you?"

  "He has a point, my boy," Rajaswami whispered. "Hospitality and courtesy. You can't turn him away."

  Griva, meantime, had attacked the food that Mirri handed him, grinding it in his heavy jaws and wiping his mouth on the back of a hairy hand. He squinted an eye at Tamar.

  "I'll not intrude on your snug little corner here," he said, settling himself "I'm not one to stay where I'm not welcome. Oh, yes, you're thinking you'll be glad to see the back of me. Who could blame you? A stranger out of nowhere. You'd not expect to have dealings with a rough and ready fellow like me.

  "But don't be too quick to send me away," Griva added. "There could be a tidy profit for both of us."

  "We're not looking for profit," Mirri said.

  "What if it jumped out at you?" Griva reached under his cloak and pulled out a leather pouch. He untied it and spilled the contents into his palm: a heap of gems.

  "Little twinklers, eh?" Griva licked his lips. "Beauties. You'd almost want to eat them up. I have more, besides. Plenty for all of you."

  "Why show us these?" Tamar demanded.

  "Whispers. I've heard a few. A word here, a word there. Nothing that means anything by itself Put them together, you have an interesting tale. How a young lad-very much like yourself-got his hands on something. And what would that be? A stone. A shiny little red stone. Do you follow me so far?"

  Tamar did not answer. Griva went on in an amiable tone: "For the sake of the tale, let's call that little stone a ruby. Now, let's suppose there's a rich man: a gem-fancier, a collector, as you might say. He wants a stone like that-not for its value; it's half the size of the ones I've got right here. No, it's just a curio, an odd sort of trinket. But he's made up his mind. You know how these collectors are.

  "So he sends a fellow with an eye for such things-a fellow like me, if you will-to track it down and buy it for him. At a good price, that's understood.

  "There's a happy ending to the tale," continued Griva. "The young lad's delighted at the chance to reap a fortune; he trades that little ruby he's carrying for, say, a fistful of diamonds. So, everybody's overjoyed with the bargain; they go their own ways, simple as that. A pleasant story, don't you agree?" Tamar tightened his grip on the sword. "I don't know who you are or who you serve, and I don't care. Get out."

  Griva shrugged and poured the gems back into the pouch. "There's yet another ending to the story, and not such a happy one. That young man and his friends are suddenly dead."

  Griva leaped to his feet. Quick as an eye-blink, he wrenched away Tamar's blade and broke it over his knee.

  "No more tales, King of Sundari." He gripped Tamar by the front of the jacket and pulled him close, until their faces nearly touched. Griva hissed and bared his teeth. "Play no games with me. I know you've got the ruby. I'll have it now."

  Adi-Kavi had sprung up to grapple him from behind, but Griva shook him off and sent him sprawling. "Give. I'll tear you apart, you and all the rest. Look at me. See who you're dealing with."

  Griva's face blurred and shifted before Tamar's eyes. The teeth lengthened into fangs, the body swelled and burst from its garments, the fingers clutching Tamar's jacket turned to claws.

  "Rakshasa!" The suta flung himself again on the demon's back and seized him by the hair, holding on with all his strength.

  "Garuda, take the ruby!" Mirri shouted. "Fly! Fly to Jaya!" Seeing the bird snatch the gem from under its feathers, the rakshasa tossed Tamar aside and lunged for Garuda.

  Wings beating, the eagle streaked from the cave. Hashkat darted across the ground and wrapped his arms around the demon's legs. Mirri threw herself on the struggling rakshasa. Rajaswami picked up a burning branch from the cook fire and shook it at Griva with all the ferocity he could muster.

  Growling, the rakshasa seized the branch in his jaws, snapped it into bits and spat them blazing at Rajaswami. Griva heaved himself closer to the mouth of the cave.

  "Hold fast!" Tamar understood that Griva was not so much trying to escape his attackers as he was seeking a different victim. "He's after Garuda."

  "Let him go," Rajaswami called. "He can't catch an eagle." Tamar was about to follow the acharya's urging. It crossed his mind that Garuda was already aloft and safely in flight to Mahapura. But, even as he watched, the rakshasa hunched up his shoulders. He spread out his arms: They shuddered for a moment, then turned into powerful wings. Glossy feathers like iron scales covered the demon's body. The legs, with their talons, had become those of a hideous bird of prey.

  Hashkat screamed. The hooked beak now jutting from what had been the rakshasa's face ripped into the monkey's arm. Bleeding, Hashkat still clung to the raging bird, but the creature flung him to the ground. Adi-Kavi, shaken loose, tumbled backward. As Mirri kicked and pummeled the rakshasa, Tamar sprang past the buffeting wings, leaped onto the demon's back, and locked his hands around its neck.

  The rakshasa doubled its efforts to gain the mouth of the cave. Tamar felt his fingers slip as the huge bird twisted its neck around, trying to savage him with its beak.

  That same moment, wings flapping, screeching at the top of his voice, Garuda streaked back into the chamber. "No! Get out!" Mirri ordered. "Do as I told you. Save your ruby. Save yourself!"

  The rakshasa whirled to fend off Garuda's attack. Tamar's grip at last gave way; he fell and skidded across the cavern floor. Garuda swooped and circled, striking out with beak and talons. Wind whistled as the rakshasa's wings unfolded to their full breadth, beating Garuda to the ground. The rakshasa sprang into the air, ready to plummet onto the stunned eagle.

  In the pool, the water roiled and churned into foam. A long shape burst up, scales glistening. The great serpent flung itself at the rakshasa.

  "Shesha!" Tamar cried.

  The Naga prince had lunged to grip the rakshasa in his coils. The demon bird flailed its wings, fighting to break free of Shesha's encircling body. The Naga tightened his hold and bore the creature to earth. The rakshasa shrieked in fury. Its feathers began glowing red-hot; a tongue of flame shot from its beak. Shesha writhed closer to the edge of the pool; then, with the rakshasa locked in his grasp, rolled into the water and vanished in its depths.

  The surface of the pool hissed, as if a flaming torch had been quenched. Tamar ran to the edge. He could see nothing of the Naga prince. The water was calm again. Mirri and Adi-Kavi drew him away.

  "We were enemies, Shesha and I," Tamar murmured. "We fought once. He would ha
ve drowned me. Yet, he came."

  "Yes, King of Sundari, so I did." Shesha's head rose from the water. "For the sake of the mercy you showed me."

  The Nanda prince slithered all his length from the pool. "The rakshasa is destroyed, as he would have destroyed you. His powers were great; only a Naga could have stood against him."

  "But you-Prince Shesha, how have you come here?" Tamar pressed his palms together and bowed his head in gratitude. "We owe you our lives. You followed us. Why?"

  "We feared for you," answered the Naga. "Some while after you departed our realm, we had word of a rakshasa seeking your trail. We could only guess that it had to do with the ruby you chose from our treasure, and that the gem was of even greater value than we had supposed.

  "For a time, I lost track of you, and knew only that you wished to go to Mahapura. I could reach you no sooner. The Naga kingdom runs through all waterways and secret springs," Shesha added, "but none of us has dared to venture this far."

  Mirri had gone to cradle the motionless Garuda in her arms. Shesha lifted his head, crowned by the glittering sapphire, and cast unblinking eyes around the cave.

  "The thieving monkey is still with you." Shesha darted out his forked tongue. "I expected the wretch would have long since deserted you."

  "He became a brave friend," Tamar said, "and a worthy king of his people."

  "And badly hurt," put in Adi-Kavi, leaving Hashkat's side. "A rakshasa's bite is venomous." He laid a hand on Tamar's arm. "Come to him. I fear he's dying."

  35. The Palace of Illusions

  Hashkat slumped against the cave wall. The monkey's face was drawn, his eyes sunken. Tamar, with Shesha slithering after, knelt beside him.

  "What, the overgrown angleworm?" Hashkat raised his head a little and grinned painfully. "Still after me? I've heard of bearing a grudge, but not so far as this."

  "He killed the rakshasa," Tamar said quietly. "He came to help us."

  "In that case, what took him so long? If that wiggler had a shell, he'd be a snail." Hashkat tried to regain his old impudence, but his voice faltered and he shuddered violently.

  Mirri, cradling the stunned Garuda, glanced, questioning, at Adi-Kavi. Rajaswami whimpered in distress. Hashkat curled into himself, his chin sinking to his breast.

  "Strong poison," Adi-Kavi said aside to Tamar. "I have no antidote. Nothing I can do for him. This is beyond my skill."

  "Not beyond mine." Shesha spread his hood. "I carry the means to heal him. Take the gem I wear. Hold it to his wound. The venom of a rakshasa is fatal. It will take all the power of my jewel to work against it. After that, the stone will be worthless. Use it carefully; it will serve this one time only."

  "You'd give up the jewel he tried to steal from you?" Tamar said. "At the riverside, you'd have taken his life on account of it."

  "Now I give him his life," replied Shesha. "My father pardoned the foolish creature. Can I do less? The Naga Raja reproached me for letting wrath drive out reason and compassion. His words have weighed on me ever since. As I wish to heal this frivolous monkey, so I wish to heal my own dharma."

  Prince Shesha lowered his head. Tamar took the jewel from the Naga's brow; and, as Shesha instructed, set it on Hashkat's arm. Hashkat lay motionless. Tamar feared that the poison had spread too far and had already claimed the monkey's life. The sapphire's blue inner flame dimmed little by little, then winked out.

  "It is done," Shesha said. "The stone is useless. Cast it away. If it has failed, I have no more to offer."

  Hashkat stirred and opened one eye. "What's that crawler done now?" He sat up and peered at his arm, as whole as if it had never been wounded.

  "Saved an impudent monkey is what he's done," Mirri said, smiling.

  Hashkat popped his eyes at Shesha. "In spite of all?" He bowed his head and pressed his palms together. "Namaste, Prince of the Naga-loka. I'm grateful. You're a fine fellow." He stuck out his tongue and grinned wickedly. "For a royal wiggler."

  "Namaste, O flea-ridden tree-climber," Shesha replied, with a fond glint in his eyes. "May your life be as long as your insolence is great."

  The Naga folded his hood and turned to Tamar. "King of Sundari, our quarrel is over. Go your way. Guard the ruby well. Its power may be greater than any of us know. I dare stay no longer. Without the protection of my jewel, my own life is at risk. Namaste." The Nanda prince heaved his coils to the edge of the pool. Hashkat scrambled after him: "Wait, wait! As you saved my life, at least I owe you the truth. I really did mean to give back your gem." By then, Prince Shesha had slid into the dark waters and vanished.

  Garuda, meantime, had begun coughing and wheezing in Mirri's arms. "Set me down, set me down. Shmaa! I can hardly breathe."

  "You shouldn't be here in the first place," Mirri said. "I told you to fly off."

  "Well, I didn't," Garuda snapped. "Leave my friends in danger? What kind of eagle would I be? I thought-what I wanted to do," Garuda sniffed and hesitated. He gave Mirri a sidelong glance. "I was going to give that disgusting rakshasa the ruby. That's all he wanted; he'd have let you go."

  "Oh, I very much doubt it," said Rajaswami. "You can't bargain with those fellows. They never keep their word."

  "Even so," Garuda said, "I thought I'd try."

  "You'd really have done that for us?" Mirri said.

  Garuda ducked his head and shuffled his feet. "Well, yes," he grumbled. "No matter how much aggravation you've caused me-all right, if you must know, I-well, I'm fond of you all, even the monkey. Ruby? Shmaa! A shiny stone. Who cares?"

  "You meant to save our lives," Tamar said. "We owe you."

  "You can be sure," Garuda shook his head. "You owe me nothing."

  "The ruby's safe?" Mirri said. "Where?"

  "There was an accident." Garuda coughed and snorted. "It's stuck in my craw. I swallowed it."

  "Ate it?" Hashkat slapped his knees. "You silly rag mop! Come, open your beak. I'll fish it out."

  "Get away!" Garuda squawked. "Leave it alone. At least I know where it is."

  The world turned green, so green it dazzled him. From the time they left the cave, that next morning, until Adi-Kavi led them on to their final descent, Tamar had seen only grim black outcroppings of bare stones, glaring stretches of empty snowfields, pinnacles of ice. Once, as they inched their way downward, the suta had been obliged to chip footholds in what looked like a frozen waterfall. Then the valley burst around them, with sun-swept woodlands and rich meadows; and, ahead, as Garuda had told, the walls and soaring towers of Mahapura.

  Hashkat's jaw dropped. Rajaswami stared, eyes full of wonder, and murmured, "Who could have imagined? Yes, this is indeed the realm of a great maharajah."

  "And so, at the end, it's true." Tamar took Mirri's hand. "Not a dream, after all. I wish it had been. How Jaya means to deal with me."

  "He'll have to deal with me, too," Mirri said. "He expected a kshatriya. I don't think he reckoned on a gopi."

  Garuda, impatient, had flown ahead. With Mirri beside him, Tamar walked reluctantly through the gates. Before him stretched tree-lined avenues, parks, lakes, and promenades.

  "Do you see those crowds?" Hashkat frowned and scratched his head. "Astonishing!"

  "I see none," Tamar said, looking where Hashkat gestured.

  "That's what's astonishing," said Hashkat. "Nobody. Nowhere. Where are the people? The place is empty. The city of a maharajah? There's not even a monkey."

  "Curious, but easily explained," Rajaswami suggested. "They've all gone to-ah, yes, to some local festival."

  "Hush." Mirri put a finger to her lips. "I don't see anyone either, but I can hear them."

  As Tamar listened, voices rose from all sides: water sellers and hucksters crying their wares, merchants haggling, the laughter of children at play, all the sounds of a busy capital.

  "What is this place?" he whispered. "Where have we come?"

  A many-towered palace loomed in front of him, the gates open and unguarded. More perplexed than ever, he crossed the wide
courtyard, as empty as the rest of the city.

  "Where are Jaya's warriors? Chariots? Elephants?" Tamar stepped past the tall portals into a corridor stretching as far as his eyes could see, glittering as if paved and walled with crystal. He took a pace forward, then shouted a warning. The ground had opened in front of him. He stared into a shimmering pool at the bottom of a steep gorge. He stumbled back. Mirri was calling to him. He turned in the direction of her voice, only to collide with a wall.

  A dozen figures sprang up, roughly garbed, their faces wind-hardened and sun-blackened. He reached for his sword, forgetting the scabbard was empty. He flung up his arms. The figures did likewise. Only then did he realize he was seeing himself in the surrounding mirrors.

  Another corridor opened. He plunged through. Mirri was there. He ran to her. Hashkat and Adi-Kavi had halted farther on, where the passage abruptly ended. Rajaswami, bewildered, turned first one way then another.

  "The palace is a trap!" Tamar burst out. "Jaya's caught us in it." He stared around him, raised his clenched fists and shouted, "Show yourself, Jaya! Do you claim my life? Then let me see you: king to king, man to man."

  "You waste your breath," said Adi-Kavi, coming to Tamar's side. "If I see the world as it is, I also see the world as it isn't. This is maya. Illusion. Nothing more than shadows in our minds. Our eyes are telling us lies and we're believing them."

  "We're still caught," Tamar exclaimed. "We can't get out."

  "Shadows, only shadows," Adi-Kavi said. "Why fear them? Do as I tell you. Pay them no heed. Don't even look. Close your eyes to them. Walk straight on, wherever it leads you."

  Hashkat and Rajaswami had come to join them. With Mirri's hand in his, Tamar stepped blindly ahead, expecting at every moment to lose his footing and topple into a void. When he ventured to open his eyes, he was at the doorway of what was clearly a royal chamber. He glimpsed couches and draperies, richly ornamented silken screens on frames of polished ebony.