by Sarah Zettel
With that, he slipped out of the gate and strode, grinning, down the white road, until he vanished behind the curve of the palace wall. Radana opened her mouth to call out, but she did not dare follow him. The sun was almost to its zenith and there were quarrels breaking out over the space in the shortening shadows. From the pitch of the voices, she could tell there would soon be open fights, and possibly betting on them. Some of the men had the right sort of gleam in their eyes to be interested in such a game.
Alone on the edge of a crowd of strangers, Radana wrapped her arms around herself and tried to calm herself enough to wait.
Hamsa was loitering on the broad, curving stairs as Madhu hurried up, brushing fussily at the dust on his new coat sleeves. She took him in carefully, the new clothes, the intense air, and the small smile beneath his beard. He believed what he was doing was important, and that the reward would be great.
Hamsa stepped from the alcove into the sorcerer’s path. “Agnidh Madhu,” she said, making a respectful salute.
Madhu stared for a moment before making the full salute of trust. Whatever her reputation, Hamsa was bound sorcerer to the first prince and at least a show of respect was required. “Greetings, Agnidh Hamsa. Forgive me. My errand is urgent and I cannot delay.”
But Hamsa did not move. “What errand might that be?”
“It is for Agnidh Yamuna. You know well I cannot be late for such an important meeting.” He looked up expectantly at her, and still Hamsa did not move.
Since Yamuna’s threat and Natharie’s adventure, Hamsa had begun to watch the traffic to Yamuna’s rooms. If Yamuna knew she did this, he had said nothing. He seemed satisfied that she had not directly warned Samudra off his present course. Nor would she, but perhaps, just perhaps, there was something else she could do. Some straw or pebble she could shift to change the course of the dance Yamuna had set.
“What fine new clothes you are wearing.” Hamsu gestured at Madhu’s coat, trousers, and slippers. “Your errand has been most successful already.” The runner who had told her Madhu was on his way up from the lower ring said he was barely even recognizable.
Madhu could not keep the grin from his face. “I will give much thanks to the Mother of Increase after I have made my report.”
“Where was she from, your errand?” Hamsa asked slyly. Madhu was so famous for his love of women that even Hamsa had heard of it. “Perhaps I can find myself one.”
With that, Madhu put aside all pretense of respect. “Ha! You would have to open your eyes for that, Hamsa!” She shared his chuckle, although the gibe dug near her heart, but what he said next made the pain vanish in an instant. “She was from Sindhu, if you must know, and now I must go tell this to the lord Yamuna.”
Sindhu! Shock almost robbed Hamsa of her ability to playact. “Forgive me, Madhu.” She stepped aside, saluting once more. “May your errand continue to be profitable.”
He sketched a salute to her and all but ran down the corridor toward the winding stairs. Hamsa stared after him, twisting her staff in her hands.
Why is it Yamuna should wish to know about a woman of Sindhu arriving in the city? She gripped her staff. Queen Bandhura, yes, the viceroys and the prince, yes, but Yamuna? What is happening here? And fast on the heels of this came the thought Will anyone tell the prince?
She did not waste another breath, but ran up the steps. The guards of the small domain knew her on sight and opened the ebon doors without issuing a challenge. Samudra was not in his rooms, nor was he with his mother, which left one last place to look.
She hurried to the viewing chambers and the garden terrace. She saw Natharie’s Ekkadi sitting beneath the arch, busy repairing some bangle with tiny pliers. The maid was straining her ears to hear what her mistress might be saying, and trying hard not to show it. Ekkadi glanced up, ready to tell whoever approached to stay away, but when she saw who it was, she lowered her head. Hamsa knew she did not imagine the disappointment in the maid’s eyes.
The late-afternoon sunlight streamed through the ivory lattice. The scent of citrus and greenery enveloped her. Before her, Princess Natharie sat on her favorite stone bench, and looked up at Samudra, who stood before her. Hamsa stopped dead, for here she saw plainly what she had only guessed at before.
Neither of them had so much as flinched at her approach, so intent they were on each other. Not even Samudra, with his soldier’s instincts, noticed she was there. It was as if each sought to memorize and comprehend every detail of the other. She felt the air thrumming with their tension, their hope at such a fever pitch it was almost desperation. Hope that trust was not misplaced, hope that the heart did not lie, hope that love was not wrong.
She knew that Samudra bore a growing love for Natharie, but Hamsa was so bound up in her fears of Yamuna and her own weakness, she had not seen how strong that love had grown, nor had she seen how well it was answered.
And she felt her own heart break at the sight of even such tenuous freedom to love whom one would. In that instant, she understood how Yamuna could wish that his bound life might end so he could walk away, free forever. Loathing filled her at the notion, as one might feel loathing at the thought of eating rotted meat, but understanding remained. Could she take a lover? Yes, she was allowed. In fact, she could have as many as she pleased, if it did not interfere with her duties. She could even marry, but what husband would have her when she was not free to serve his house? She must follow Samudra in war and in peace. He was her first charge, and the only one to which she could be true, until the day one of them died.
Her eyes prickled and she had to close them to keep tears from spilling out. No. No. I do not wish this. I will not wish it. This is the life I must live, and I will not betray. I will not do what Yamuna has done. I will not make myself as he is. If that is weakness, so be it.
She moved forward, deliberately scraping her sandals against the floor tiles. The sound broke the moment between Samudra and Natharie, and they both saw her.
Samudra rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture he made when he was feeling particularly impatient. “What is it, Hamsa?”
Mindful of the listening Ekkadi, not to mention the whole of the small domain at her back, Hamsa stepped up close to him, to them.
“My prince. I have had word that a woman of Sindhu has arrived in the Audience Court.”
She expected Princess Natharie to gasp, but the woman only sat back, her eyes wide. “Who is it?” she asked hoarsely.
Hamsa shook her head. “I do not know.”
Natharie turned to Samudra, the pleading question plain in her eyes. Samudra remained silent for a long moment. Hamsa could see he was considering what few options he would have in such a situation. She wondered what Natharie saw.
“I’m sorry,” Samudra said at last. “She will not be permitted to enter here.”
Slowly, Natharie’s fingers curled inward, making claws to rake against the silk of her skirt. “Why not? Builders and their sons come here, why not this woman from my home? Let your priests do whatever they will to purify her, but surely …”
“I cannot bring a stranger into the small domain without the emperor’s permission.” Samudra spoke softly, pleading with her to understand. Hamsa felt the skin on the back of her neck prickle and she glanced behind her. Ekkadi was staring at them, her bangle forgotten in her hands. The maid met the sorceress’s eyes for a single heartbeat, and quickly picked up her work again.
“Please, Samudra,” Natharie murmured. “She is from my home.”
“I cannot ask that now.”
Her clawed fingers knotted into her skirt. “Cannot or will not?”
Samudra flinched, something Hamsa had rarely seen him do before. “Cannot, Natharie. I ask you to believe this.” He moved close again, a lover’s stance. Did he know how easy it was to see this? As soon as she asked herself that question, Hamsa knew he did not care. “You know what is happening around us right now. I cannot add a suspicious action, even one this small.”
They wat
ched each other, each reading the other’s silence. Hamsa had never felt so separate from Samudra or so angry at her own clumsiness with skill and word.
Natharie was the one who broke the silence. “I understand,” she said.
“Do you accept it?” asked Samudra. Hamsa blinked and bowed her head, for she had heard the question differently. For a moment, she thought she heard, “Do you accept me?”
This time it was Natharie who shook her head. “No, Great Prince, I do not.”
It was another blow and this one close to his heart. Samudra bore it like the soldier he was and replied with the salute of trust. “I thank you for your honesty. I will find a way to bring her to you as soon as I can, Natharie, I swear. Be but a little patient.”
Natharie made no answer, and Samudra’s shoulders slumped. He walked away without a word or backward glance. Hamsa did look back, and she saw Natharie sitting with her head bowed. Ekkadi picked herself up and hurried to her mistress. She whispered urgently in Natharie’s ear, but Natharie did not move at all. There was nothing in her attitude, though, that spoke of repose or resignation. The princess of Sindhu hid her face so that her thoughts would not show.
She will not be patient. She will not wait a breath longer than she must. Will Samudra let himself realize this?
Samudra did not speak to Hamsa until they reached his rooms and he had dismissed his servants with a scowl. Then, he faced her and his expression was thunderous.
“How could you come to me with this news in front of Natharie?” he demanded. “What were you thinking?”
You do not want to know what I was thinking. Not all of it. She kept this to herself. “I wanted to see how she would respond.” This was at least part of the truth.
“Why?”
Hamsa planted her staff firmly, as if it would help anchor her nerve. “Because I find it strange that this woman should appear now, and I do not understand why Yamuna should want to know that a woman from Sindhu was here.”
“Yamuna? What business is it of Yamuna’s who comes to the Audience Court?”
“None, my prince. But he is making it his business.” Pay attention, my prince, she begged silently. I am risking both of us by saying this much.
Samudra rubbed the back of his neck. “I can do nothing now. Tonight I must … I must finish what I have begun. Then my brother will understand my loyalty is strong. Then I will be able to speak with him about Divakesh and he will hear me. There are things that are stronger than Divakesh’s ravings.”
“I hope that is so, my prince. But it is not Divakesh who is playing now, it is Yamuna.”
“Say it is the emperor. Yamuna is but a servant.”
“Yes, my prince, but …”
Which was at last too much. “What would you have me do, Hamsa?” he cried, flinging out his hands. “What moves would you advise for this game? Come, you are so well versed in palace politics, you tell me what to do.”
Hamsa was not prepared for the strength of his sudden anger, and it rocked her back. “I beg you understand, my prince,” she said, nearly echoing words he had spoken to Natharie. “It matters because the princess will try to break seclusion again to find this woman, and even if she does not succeed, it matters because Divakesh is determined to make the emperor think some dishonorable thing is happening.”
“The emperor will not believe that.”
“How can you say such a thing, my prince? The emperor believes far greater lies already.”
“Bandhura will not permit it. She has uses for Natharie.”
“You are willing to trust Princess Natharie’s safety to the tender mercies of the first of all queens?”
That stopped him cold. He knew the flint core of Queen Bandhura at least as well as she did. He knew how quickly she came to rule the small domain during his mother’s illness. He knew how quickly she could break what she could not control.
Hamsa realized she’d been holding her breath, and released it slowly, softly. Samudra turned from her. He paced across the room to gaze out his open window at the green mountainside. Birds sang out there, unconcerned with troubles that broke hearts and empires. He touched the ivory window frame, running his fingers down it gently. For a moment her mind’s eye saw him seize the carving to snap it in his fist. But in truth, he only turned toward her again. “You are hinting at something. What are you truly afraid of, Hamsa?”
Hamsa licked her lips. She could still see it, that image of him breaking the ivory, carelessly snapping strong bone in his rage. But she must speak. The bond between them compelled it as much as did her desperate desire to be true to her duty. “I am afraid that Princess Natharie did send for the woman,” she whispered. Look away, Yamuna, look away.
“And that there is another game happening here that neither of us has yet seen.”
Slowly, so slowly Hamsa could see each separate motion, Samudra stalked toward her. “How can you even dream such a thing!” The words hissed through his teeth and she tensed, ready for the blow she was sure would land. “It is foul!”
She should have held her peace, but some vile demon in her soul would not let her. “What is foul, my prince? That I say it, or that you have already thought it?”
He raised his fist and Hamsa steeled herself. His fist swung down and she felt the air against her skin as it brushed past her. “You know nothing!” he bellowed. “I ask for your aid, and instead of straining your powers to their utmost, you remain an ignorant slave!”
It was too much. The sense of wrong, the helpless, heartbroken rage that she had kept dammed in her heart, burst out in a mindless flood.
“When have you allowed me to be anything else?” she shouted, but she could barely hear her own words for the drumming of her heart and the roar of her blood in her ears. “You care nothing for what battles I may have to fight! You will allow me no succor or aid. When I falter, you only draw farther away and leave me more alone. You would not treat the lowest peasant in your army as you have treated me!” She clutched her staff until it bit into her palms. “Yes, I am clumsy, and I am ignorant. It is all I have had a chance to become!”
Samudra stared, his eyes wide as her fury and her words sank slowly into his understanding. She was shaking. If it were not for her staff, she would not have been able to remain standing.
“Hamsa, I’m sorry,” he said softly.
She dropped her gaze, breathing hard, trying to gain control of her shuddering frame. “No. I forget myself.”
“No, you remembered yourself. Forgive me.”
He left her there, and Hamsa felt her bond like a fetter on her soul. How much more did the prince feel it? She clenched her teeth against her curses. They would do no good. They never had.
Samudra paid no attention to Yamuna because he did not know the breadth of power of a true sorcerer. He only knew her weakness, her indecision. He saw Divakesh, who betrayed the Mothers, as the greatest danger of all to his brother. He saw nothing of Yamuna’s bitterness at being forced to serve.
She should tell him this. She looked at the empty place where he had stood a moment ago. Why did she not follow and tell him?
Why not give the warning and then kill myself? She dug her fingers into her hair, trying to hold her mind and soul together when all the anger, all the doubt she felt threatened to tear her apart. Free us both from this chain. Samudra needs someone who can be strong beside him. Not me. If I died there would be another.
Yes, another chosen by Yamuna. Would Samudra be paired with a child? A half-dead old man? She bowed her head, clenching her eyes around tears as she had clenched her teeth around curses. All is not written. The dance changes. It does. It must. I will not be only what Yamuna says I am. If the Mothers stand only because he has not toppled them yet, then I will see he pays the price for his delay, or I will die in the attempt and I will work my will from Hell if I must.
But how? came the traitorous thought. How?
Hamsa set her jaw and turned on her heel. She would begin by discovering why Yamuna wa
s interested in the arrival of one more woman of Sindhu. Samudra would listen to anything regarding Princess Natharie, that much was certain.
She needed to find Master Gauda. She would need an extra pair of hands to keep both Natharie and Samudra safe in Yamuna’s game. He would have clothing that would disguise her, and he could be trusted to help Natharie when she needed it. It was impossible that Natharie should stay in the small domain knowing one of her own was outside, no matter what the danger.
You at least will not get us easily, Hamsa thought toward Yamuna, and toward Hell itself. Not easily.
Chapter Seventeen
“Mistress? Shall I go down for you? Mistress?” Ekkadi was whispering in Natharie’s ear, and her words buzzed and bothered like a mosquito’s whine.
“And what will you do if she does not speak Hastinapuran?” said Natharie more bitterly than she meant. “You know less of my language than I know of the Huni’s.”
“Yes, mistress,” said Ekkadi with such proper humility that Natharie knew the maid was angered by that unfair snap. She made no apology, however. She had no room for it in her mind or heart. Someone from home was downstairs. Who was it? Was she from the palace, or was it someone here to undermine her parents? Was she trying to reach Natharie, or reach past her? The questions swarmed around her head, leaving her breath short and her heart hammering.
She could not wait for her answers. She would not.
She was on her feet and crossing the terrace before she was aware she had moved. She did not slow her step or change her path, even as she realized every eye made note of her, and how white she must surely be. No doubt there was already a buzz of gossip behind her speculating what sort of quarrel she and the prince had just had. Let them gossip. They were nothing, they meant nothing. Home waited down below in the courtyard. She was not forgotten. It could be one of her sisters.
Master Gauda was in the performance alcove, watching slender Valandi kneel before an audience of her fellow students and lift her hands up to Heaven in ferverent prayer. “Very good,” he was saying. “Hold, hold, and remember you are suffering, so take that smile off your face if you please …” But although his concentration seemed total, he did not miss Natharie as she came to stand beneath the archway, her hands knotted in her skirt to keep them from trembling.