He turned to his mortal friends. ‘Rama, I know a way into the city. If you will follow me, I will lead you inside. There may be danger, we may need to kill some of Vali’s soldiers to get in, but if I am right, it will lead us straight to the royal tree circle where they are taking Angad even now.’
Rama glanced around to make sure that Lakshman and the others had heard all. ‘Very well, my friend. Lead the way quickly.’
Hanuman kept to the ground, not loping but sprinting the way he had learned by watching Rama. It had felt odd at first, but he had begun to like it. He sprinted through the thicket, his night vision easily able to steer him through the trees. He heard Rama and the others following. They were not too concerned about making noise—the guards were more concerned with the goings on within the city now than a few twigs cracking in the woods outside. He led them around the exterior wall of Kiskindha, at times out of sight of the city wall itself, in a long semicircular arc. It was a fast run, covering less than a mile, and not much longer than the way that the guards would take Angad.
He emerged from the thicket into the grassy clearing that ran along the city wall like a border. It was very narrow here, barely a few yards across. On the city side, a massive tree grew at a sharp angle, leaning drunkenly across the wall. Where its branches touched the wall, the standing logs had cracked and split. They would not stand a direct assault and in times of war or siege, this part would be manned as well as the rest of the perimeter wall. But right now, there were no sentries posted, and the few guards that patrolled the trees on the far side of the wall would be more engrossed in the exciting duel about to take place.
Hanuman pointed to the tree on their side. ‘We must climb,’ he whispered hoarsely. His voice was not suited to whispering softly; it always came out as a hoarse croak, reminding him of a fox coughing. Rama nodded and went to the trunk of the tree. Hanuman gestured to the other vanars, instructing them to climb and go ahead to spy out any danger. They were Angad’s best warrior companions and they obeyed at once, leaping lithely onto the branches and gaining the top of the wall in a trice. With a single leap, they crossed the gulf of some five yards from this tree to the one leaning against the wall. This was the shortest leaping distance anywhere on the perimeter and the reason why Hanuman had brought them here. But, he thought now as he clambered up besides the straining humans, could Rama and Lakshman leap that distance?
He gained the top of the tree in moments and waited impatiently for the two princes, using all his self-restraint to keep from chittering at them to hurry, hurry. Rama’s palm slipped on the dewy branch and he lost his balance. Hanuman’s tail shot out at once, gripping Rama around his waist, while his paws grasped the mortal’s wrists tightly. He hauled Rama up, helped by Rama using his feet well.
Hanuman patted him affectionately on the shoulder. ‘It seems that mortals climb trees about as well as most vanars run!’
He was gratified to see Rama’s teeth flash, reflecting the moonlight.
‘But not you, friend Hanuman,’ Rama replied. ‘You run as well as any mortal.’
Hanuman didn’t stop to let that compliment sink in, tucking it away to savour later at leisure. He led them across the branch, pointing to the squat distorted part of the far tree’s trunk, pressing hard against the cracked wall, where they were to land.
Rama nodded. ‘It is possible. But you must go first, to catch us as we land.’
Hanuman did so gladly, taking the five yards without even thinking about it. He turned and watched Rama lean back, seeking to gain as much momentum as was possible. Then Rama leaped, and Hanuman held his breath. Rama hung suspended for a moment in the moonlight, his sweat-limned muscles rippling. In that instant, Hanuman’s mind filled inexplicably with the image of himself flying, for that was how Rama looked—as if he was flying, and then Rama was on this side and he had gripped him tightly, hugging him to his chest. Rama breathed his thanks and stepped aside to let Lakshman leap. He made the crossing as well without mishap, and they descended from the tree, running around a cluster of stones which formed the main public meeting place of the city.
As they ran, Hanuman heard shouts and howls of anger and pain coming from ahead. That was the royal tree circle. He ran faster, unconsciously dropping into a vanar’s loping stride to gain speed. He prayed to Vayu the wind god to take him to his lord Angad before anything untoward happened to him.
Lakshman’s heart sank as he heard the howls and shouts. They were the unmistakable sound of beings engaged in violent combat. If he needed any confirmation, it came a moment later as they burst through the rock-strewn park into an artificially cleared area around an enormous oak trunk. He saw at once why it had been called the royal tree circle, for a dozen oaks, all almost as massive and ancient as the central one, grew in a circular formation around the eldest. At various levels, going up to the tops of the trees, there was an elaborate network of hemprope riggings, dangling vines, and closed platforms. The greenish stonelights he had seen at Rishimukha were here too, lending their sickly illumination to the whole scene, but they were hardly needed as the almost-full moon was directly overhead, casting sufficient light for him to see.
Angad was fighting bare-handed with a dozen different burly black vanars. These were unlike any vanars Lakshman had seen up to now. They seemed more simian, less civilised, powerfully built, and more bent over. Thick, ropily muscled arms hung by their sides, and their bright large teeth flashed luminously in their dark faces. Angad was fighting bravely and fiercely, but even at a glance, Lakshman could tell at once that he was waging a losing battle. It was all the vanar prince could do to keep his opponents at bay. Already, he was bleeding from several cuts and he seemed to favour his right lower limb, limping a little as he leaped and swung and bounded from one side of the circle to the other. Gasps and exclamations from the platforms made Lakshman glance up: he saw red vanar eyes gleaming from the windows of several of the closed platforms, which he presumed were rooms, and from the pitch and tone of the gasps and exclamations, he guessed that those onlookers were Vali’s wives and concubines.
Where then was Vali himself? And where had their other vanar associates gone? They had leaped the wall moments before Rama and Hanuman and he had come over. Why—
Then he heard the sounds of shouting and howling again. And realised suddenly that those sounds had not been made by Angad and his circle of murderous wrestlers. Angad’s supporters were clashing with soldiers on the far side of the circle, keeping Vali’s soldiers at bay. As he watched, one of the press of soldiers plunged his spear into the belly of one of Angad’s vanars. The wounded vanar caught hold of the spear, turned it around and pierced the soldier with it. Then he began using it against the other soldiers. The poor fellows were severely outnumbered: Lakshman estimated no more than a dozen of Angad’s supporters pitted against at least five times as many soldiers. They were sacrificing their lives to give Angad a fighting chance.
Beside Lakshman, Rama dropped to his knee, putting an arrow to his bow. Lakshman was already doing the same. He glanced at Rama.
Rama’s face was grim and dark, a granite statue in the moonlight. ‘You know what to do, brother,’ he said. ‘Kill them all.’
They loosed together. Two of the black-furred vanars facing Angad dropped like stones, not even making a sound. Before the others knew what was happening, Rama and he had fired again. And again. The sound of arrows whipping through the air was low and deadly. In moments, every last one of Angad’s opponents lay dead or writhing on the ground. Angad roared and wheeled about. ‘Vali! You coward! You trick me into entering your domain only to have your paid assassins ambush me? Now, you will know what it feels like to have your heart eaten out of your chest by my teeth!’
And he rushed to the largest oak and began climbing the rope. Lakshman began to rise to follow him, but Rama’s hand fell on his shoulder. ‘I will go with Angad. You take care of the soldiers there.’
Lakshman nodded and ran forward, taking up a new position from
which to attack the soldiers. Seeing Rama and he take aim at Angad’s opponents, Hanuman had joined the other fight. Lakshman watched as Hanuman caught hold of a hapless soldier, wheeled him around over his head like a bag of straw and flung him directly at his fellows. A half-dozen soldiers collapsed. Hanuman roared and leaped onto them, his claws slashing and slicing. Lakshman was unnerved by the sight. The vanar was clearly stronger than he appeared. Much much stronger. Then he took aim and began to cut down the soldiers by ones and even twos—firing an arrow in such a manner that it passed through the throat of one and struck the throat of another behind him. In moments, the soldiers scattered, leaving two dozen of their number lying dead or fatally wounded. Lakshman rose, smiling grimly. Hanuman and Angad’s vanars whooped and danced up and down, showing their backsides to the fleeing soldiers. The enemy would regroup and be back soon, Lakshman guessed, but by then, he hoped, Rama would have found Vali and ended this foul conflict once and for all.
***
Rama called out to Angad twice but Angad seemed not to hear him. The vanar prince was in a bloodrage and Rama had been in such states before so he knew that Angad would stop only when he was severely wounded or killed. Rama didn’t want either of those things to happen to the young vanar. He climbed as fast as he could, but the vanar sped up the rope with the natural limberness of his species. In moments, as Rama watched helplessly, Angad gained the top of that particular rope and leaped onto a platform, disappearing from sight. Rama fought his way up as fast as he could.
He caught brief glimpses of female vanars squealing and crying out as he passed their ‘chambers’, and at least twice someone threw a stone that missed him narrowly. He guessed that because of the concubines, no male guards were posted in this section of Vali’s palace. Which removed one minor vexation from their path. Despite their agitation, he did not expect real opposition from the harem vanaris. Surely once they realised that they were not in any personal danger, they would be only too relieved to be freed of Vali’s tyranny. Even now, he knew that it was probably his hairless uniqueness that was frightening them. Most of them had probably never seen a human in person before.
Gaining the top of the tree, he glanced around briefly. This was higher than he would have expected. The platform was at least a hundred yards above the ground. From here, he could see across a considerable area of the forest, although the ground itself was obscured by the trees. It stood to reason that the highest branches of the tallest tree should house the highest-ranking vanar. So this was the king’s chambers in Kiskindha Palace.
He drew his bow, kept the cord tight and the arrow ready to loose at a flash and moved forward.
Rama ducked below the narrow doorway and found himself in a passageway that led in several different directions. He picked the most logical one and after a short runway up a narrow passage—he guessed that the width of the passage was intended to deter any intruders or invaders, as was the custom in the master’s chambers of any human-built keep as well—he was relieved to find both walls and ceiling expanding abruptly into an enormous chamber by any standards. The chamber was round, being built around the trunk of the tree, and the ancient oak itself was visible, a good several yards of it, in the centre of the chamber. The chamber itself was a good twenty yards across from wall to wall, and he admired the engineering that must have been required to build and maintain such a structure at such a great height.
He heard a cry from the far side of the chamber and turned his arrow that way at once. But the oak trunk growing through the centre of the room barred his view, and he must walk around it. He stepped forward carefully, his senses alert.
The floor felt as solid as any stone fortress beneath Rama’s feet and was covered with richly-woven rugs. He had a quick impression of wealth and luxury, a great deal of gold and silver and shining metals, for vanars favoured shining things, and only glass and stone were absent from the furnishings, for vanars did not work those two materials. But there was a surfeit of pelts and skins of all species, strewn over everything, and moving around the chamber was like stepping on soft yielding plush. A familiar musky aroma filled the chamber. It was unlike any perfume Rama had ever smelled before but it evoked a sense of sensual indulgence. The fainter, more recognisable odour of honey-wine as the vanars made it, underlay the first aroma. Vanars loved furry comfort and for a vanar to sleep on a tiger pelt or the skin of any predator was the highest luxury imaginable. He could guess that whatever violence Vali perpetrated in Kiskindha or elsewhere, this private chamber was reserved for less violent, more sensual pursuits. It was a chamber that reeked of hedonistic excess.
He came around the oak trunk which concealed a considerable amount of the far side of the chamber, and found himself looking at the prone body of Angad. The prince lay as if dead, a gash on his chest and his forehead both oozing blood profusely. Standing a couple of yards before him was a tall, powerfully-built vanar with a fine light-haired pelt, almost blond in colouring. He was taller than Rama himself, which made him almost twice as large as most vanars. Running down the length of his back, from the top of his head down to his tail, and including the tail itself, was a plume of ivory-white fur, as startling as a lightning bolt on a clear summer evening. His thick, enormously long tail twitched as Rama came closer, and the tip of it bobbed a good three yards away from the back from which it sprouted.
Slowly, inevitably, the vanar turned to face Rama.
Rama had a sense of a pale, yellowish face with eyes as startlingly white as the streak that ran down his back. Then the vanar spoke and his senses were shaken by the words that were spoken.
‘Come, Rama, come,’ said Vali the Usurper. ‘What took you so long? I have been waiting impatiently for you. If you wish to get Sita back, we must act at once.’
NINE
Rama kept the arrow pointed at Vali’s throat. But he felt rather than saw the faint tremble in the hand that gripped the arrow’s base. Vali’s extraordinary greeting had unnerved him in a way he would not have believed possible even a few weeks ago.
Before Sita was taken. For he had known even at sunset that fatal day, as he faced his first night in almost fourteen years without his wife, his companion, his love, that henceforth his life would be divided into two sharply sliced halves: before Sita was taken. And after.
‘Well,’ said the blond usurper, smiling at Rama in the thin, tooth-concealing way that vanars had, because for vanars to show their teeth meant aggression. ‘Say something. Do you not want your wife back from Ravana’s clutches?’
‘What do you know about her?’ Rama asked. The moment the words were out of his mouth, he wished he could recall them. But like arrows in flight they could not be brought back. He did not regret the words themselves, he regretted speaking at all, because he knew he should shoot Vali at once, without hesitation or conversation. But he had to know: what did the vanar mean? If you wish to get Sita back … He wished for nothing else. Lived for nothing else.
‘I know that the only reason you are here now is because you cannot get her back yourself. You need help. That is why you came to Mount Rishimukha and entered into the alliance with Sugreeva. That is why you promised him that you would kill me and reinstate him upon the throne. And in return, he agreed to give you the vanar sena, the army of Kiskindha. But have you forgotten, Rama? Who rules Kiskindha? Who commands that vanar sena?’ Vali turned his right paw inwards, touching his own chest. ‘Vali does. And Vali commands much more than just an army of vanars. Vali holds the key to getting your wife back safely. Do you even know where she is now?’
‘In Lanka,’ Rama said. He felt a thread of sweat pop out on his scalp and begin a slow oozing trail down the side of his head. Suddenly it felt unbearably stifling in here. Although the chamber was designed to allow breeze to blow in a clever cross-ventilation, cooled by the natural flow of air, he found it suffocating.
‘Yes,’ Vali said with a smile that was more humanlike than Rama had seen on any vanar’s face these past days. It showed a little t
eeth, just enough to be menacing, but it was the curling upwards of the lips that added the touch of sinister promise. Rama didn’t know what that meant, but he knew that he was in grave danger and that unless he shot Vali first, he might not leave this castle in the trees alive. Yet despite this certainty, he could not bring himself to shoot. He had to hear what Vali had to say about Sita. ‘But where is Lanka?’ Vali held the smile a moment longer, just long enough to let Rama see that not only did he not know all the answers, he did not even know the questions. Where is Lanka? What did the vanar mean? Lanka was …
‘Off the southern coast across the sea.’
Vali tut-tutted, shaking a single claw. The nails of the claw were painted, Rama noted, bright, vivid colours. So were Vali’s lips, giving him a peculiar, garish, but not entirely unattractive aspect. ‘Not quite. You see, that is where most of Lanka’s enemies presume it to be. In fact, the island-kingdom is situated off the lower south-east coast.’
Vali took a step forward, then another two steps, moving with the graceful ease of a danseuse—or a very agile warrior. Rama kept the arrowhead trained firmly on the vanar’s throat. He sensed that Vali was checking to see just that; whether or not Rama still possessed the will to keep the arrow aimed correctly. He felt sweat break out on his brow, the simple action of turning the bow a few degrees exerting far more effort than was normal.
Sorcery. He’s using sorcery against me. But even so, he still had to find out what Vali knew about Sita. One last question, and then I will kill him. He cannot escape while I have him in my sights. Just one last question. ‘What did you mean, when you said you hold the key to getting her back safely? What could you possibly possess apart from the power of your crown? Once Sugreeva regains his rightful place as king of Kiskindha, he will send the vanar army to aid me in my campaign to recover my wife. Why should I believe or trust you, a wife-stealer yourself!’
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