A young novice guard was crossing the yard carrying an armful of weapons when he was startled by Vessa’s sudden appearance, the sage already striding as he materialized; he cut directly across the path of the young novice, causing the lad to cry out and drop his load. Swords, bows, and daggers went clattering across the cobbled ground, scaring the pair of mares attached to Dowager Empress Jilana’s chariot; one mare kicked the front of the chariot, denting the gold plating and sending the queen’s signature ornament—a leaping fish—flying. The other mare whinnied in distress and tried to calm her running mate by nuzzling her neck.
Other horses, as well as elephants, dogs, and men and women around the courtyard, all reacted to the appearance of the great sage. All sages were regarded with fear and respect for their power to use stonefire shakti, but among them, Vessa ranked highly. Up to now, his comings and goings had been a closely guarded secret, always occurring behind closed doors. This was the first time he had entered Hastinaga in such spectacular fashion, in the clear light of day, and it sent a ripple of rumors cascading through the metropolis within moments of his arrival.
The subject of these rumors, meanwhile, strode across the courtyard, up the steps to the western entrance, and into the palace proper, leaving a flurry of excitement in his wake. The startled novice gathered up his fallen load and continued with his task, carrying also a story that he would embellish over the years and narrate again and again, well into his last grey hairs. It was a time when persons of power, myth, and legend walked Arthaloka far less frequently than in earlier ages, and any such appearance occasioned much debate.
Vessa strode through the palace, leaving a flurry of startled witnesses in his wake. Through the vaulting entranceway with towering statues, past the lush murals, rich tapestries, brocades, carpeting, marbled floors and sweeping balustrades, polished surfaces and mirrors. He did not slow when he reached the enormous carved and inlaid doors of the great hall. The sentries saw him coming and exchanged startled glances before opting to quickly open the doors and step out of his way.
The great hall was packed with a full court today. The usual assortment of ministers, courtiers, nobles, visiting dignitaries, ambassadors, commoners in the viewing galleries, and the serving staff and sentries on duty were all regaled by the unexpected appearance of this celebrity visitor. A land dispute between two wealthy senapatis, one retired, the other still serving, was on the center court today. Dowager Empress Jilana and Prince Regent Vrath were presiding as usual. The minister of land resources and taxes was arguing with the minister of war about the respective claims of both parties. The entire Senate was listening with varying degrees of attentiveness to the arguments, neither enraptured nor completely bored.
Vessa burst into the great hall with the fury of a blizzard invading a warm, quiet inn. The reactions to his intrusion ranged from startled to terrified to stunned. Once they recognized him, many of the women present eyed him with keen interest. The salubrious talk over Vessa’s impregnation of the princesses Ember and Umber, over two decades earlier, had never lost its spice, and many a young girl in the High Houses had spent hours debating just how horrific the sage must be in person to cause one of the princesses to shut her eyes in terror and the other to turn pale and faint from fright, resulting in their offspring, Prince Adri and Prince Shvate, being born blind and albino, respectively. This was the first time most of them had ever laid eyes on him in person—and he did not disappoint. Sage Vessa was as imposing, fearsome, and shocking at first appearance as his reputation claimed. To see this man striding into one’s bedchamber at night, with a solitary intent, would startle any woman.
Among those startled, but for a different reason, was Dowager Empress Jilana. Vessa sensed her startle, her dark eyes widening in surprise when she saw him approaching the throne dais. She had never been visited by her son in a public setting, ever. From his aspect and his approach, he saw her grasp at once that this did not bode well.
The ministers and nobles arguing before the dais broke off abruptly, startled into silence as the towering figure walked past them. A giant in stature and width, Vessa resembled a tree in many ways, and the first thing many thought of when seeing him go by was that a tree had uprooted itself from the deepest forest and gone walking away on some urgent business.
He stopped before the dais, his eyes flashing with fury. His wildwood staff was the thickness of a strong man’s arm, overgrown with creepers, flowers, fungi. He brought it down on the marbled floor with a resounding crack, shattering the slab and sending a spiderweb of cracks splintering outward.
“I warned you,” he said, “that we were planting the seeds of war by taking karma into our own hands.”
Dowager Empress Jilana looked at her prime minister, who was transfixed by the sight of Vessa with his staff. “Clear the court at once.”
The pradhan mantri began to gesture at the court criers, who opened their mouths to deliver the necessary command in their usual singsong ululating style. But before they could begin their delivery, the visitor raised his staff even higher and thundered a response.
“Stay! It is time Hastinaga knew what is at stake here!”
The sentries had already begun opening the large doors, and people had started moving toward them. At Vessa’s words, the doors swung shut of their own accord, pushed by the invisible hand of stonefire. The resulting boom reverberated throughout the vast chamber.
Silence followed.
Every pair of eyes was fixed, wide-eyed, on the tableau at the throne dais.
Vessa lowered his staff, gently this time, and turned his head. His eyes swept the assemblage, striking a variety of emotions, none pleasant, in the hearts of the several scores present. “Stay, Hastinaga, and hear what I have to say. My words are intended for every citizen of this metropolis and this great empire. Yatham rajanam, tatham prajanam.”
The Krushan phrase struck a chord. As does the king, so do the people. It was a reminder that even the monarchs of the world’s greatest empire were governed by a higher power—their own citizens. While accountability was at best a token phrase in a monarchy, emulation was a reality. An ordinary person in the street could not hope to personally hold his or her ruler directly accountable for every decision, but by taking a certain action, or issuing a certain diktat, that ruler then made it permissible for his or her citizens to do the same. Lead by example was another way of interpreting the Krushan phrase. By speaking a word or performing an action, the monarch made it legally permissible under Krushan law. True, many wise men would argue that this was not to be taken literally, as Krushan law was individual and not a general law, but it was hard for any king or queen to question the deeds of their citizens if they themselves had committed those same deeds with impunity.
Those who had been about to leave immediately turned back. Most came closer to the dais, the better to hear what was being said. The sage’s entrance had already intrigued them; his words had sealed the deal. Every person, highborn or low, royalty, noble, aristocrat or citizen, wanted to hear what Vessa was about to say.
Dowager Empress Jilana was still silent. She glanced in the direction of the pradhan mantri, then at Prince Regent Vrath. The prime minister looked lost; Vrath looked interested. This was a change from the tedious repetition of the court’s usual hearings, and anything that was important enough to bring Sage Vessa out of the deep forest and striding into the Senate of Hastinaga with such purpose was of interest to him. Jilana’s brow was furrowed; Vessa knew she did not like him taking over her court in this manner, or his tone, but with so many people watching and listening, she could hardly offer any rebuke. Not that they had ever had such a relationship as mother and son. Vessa had grown from infancy to full adulthood within the space of as many hours as it took most humans in years, already imbued with the four vidya, the complete repository of all human knowledge. All she could claim was that she had birthed him.
She sat back down.
Vessa inclined his head to her and to Vrath, ack
nowledging both and showing the customary respect to their thrones and crowns. Both acknowledged him in turn.
The great court of Hastinaga waited with bated breath to hear what Vessa had to say.
2
“Mother,” said the sage. “A mother is creator, preserver, as well as destroyer to a child. You gave me life, and for that I am eternally grateful and respectful to you. Pray, accept all that I now say as my attempt to redress what I see as a misstep on the long road of karma. I seek not to criticize you, but merely to inform you of a larger perspective that you were not aware of at the time that you made certain decisions. Had you been apprised of this larger perspective at the time, I am certain you would have made a different choice. However, I myself only recently came into possession of certain relevant facts that helped me perceive this larger perspective, without which I could not have apprised you at the time in question. I do so now in the hope that even today we may yet be able to take action and prevent further damage from ensuing. Please accept all my words here in the spirit of positive action. My sole intention is to do good here, and to ensure the peace and prosperity of all Krushan.”
Jilana seemed guardedly pleased with this long opening in high Krushan and replied mellifluously in language that matched her son’s eloquence. “My son, your knowledge is unsurpassed, your wisdom unrivaled, your spiritual power unchallengeable. I know you have only good intentions. A mother’s greatest happiness comes from seeing her offspring go forth and flourish in the world. Your heights of achievement have given me more cause to be proud of you than almost any mother in the history of humankind. Whatever brings you here today, away from your life’s work of transcribing the sacred vidya, must be of supreme importance to all of us. If I have indeed committed any errors in the past, whether through deeds or misdeeds, action or inaction, I too wish to be enlightened in order that I may avoid such errors in future, and if possible, redress those past errors and make reparations. Pray, proceed.”
Vessa bowed his head, straightened, then paused. When he resumed, he addressed his words to his mother, but in truth, they were intended for everyone present, since Jilana herself was already aware of all that he was about to recount.
“Over two decades ago, the Krushan dynasty faced a crisis of inheritance. Both the sons of Sha’ant and Jilana, princes Virya and Gada, died untimely deaths, leaving no heirs. Their widows, Princess Ember and Princess Umber, were left childless. Without an heir to ascend the throne, the Krushan dynasty would perish. Its enemies, always seeking a reason to stoke rebellion and unrest, were already using the lack of heirs as a point of argument to justify rising up against Hastinaga. Without an heir, the Burnt Empire would disintegrate in time, they argued. Better to detach oneself from the sinking ship before it took them down with it. Many with their own political agendas listened and stoked the fires of unrest using this argument. Vrath’s relentless war campaigning successfully prevented these fires from spreading, but effective as his campaign was, it could not extinguish the source of those fires. So long as Hastinaga lacked an heir, new uprisings would spark sooner or later, somewhere or other. It is a large empire, and even a man as powerful and indomitable as the prince regent has his limitations. An empire constantly fighting its own people is an empire in decline. Something had to be done to address the issue itself, and end the source of the arguments once and for all.
“To this end, my mother, Dowager Empress Jilana, first went to Vrath, urging him to use the age-old precedent in such a case and father children upon his half brother’s widows. This is acceptable under Krushan law, as I’m sure you will all agree.”
Many heads nodded, some grey, some not grey at all, concurring from personal knowledge or in acknowledgment of the universally accepted practice. More than one great House of Hastinaga had been extended through the centuries by such means, thus ensuring that the accumulated wealth, property, and name of their ancestors remained within the family rather than being lost in the inevitable squabbles over due shares.
“However, due to his vow of lifelong celibacy, Prince Regent Vrath declined. Even my mother’s most persuasive arguments could not sway him. His word was his bond, and he could no more unspeak his vow than the sun retreat into the east at dawn, or an old corpse rise up and become a newborn babe again.”
Jilana and Vrath did not exchange a glance: Vessa knew that each could see the other in their peripheral field of vision even while looking directly at him. But they shared an instant of awareness as they listened. He could empathize. Vessa had just recounted, exactly, Vrath’s own arguments to Jilana from over two decades ago. Those words had been spoken by Vrath to her in private. She had never recounted them in those exact words to her son. Yet neither was surprised at the accuracy of the quotes: Vessa was gifted with knowledge of past as well as future events. This was only one of his several gifts. They were both Krushan; extraordinary abilities and beings were an integral part of the lineage.
“Vrath could not be faulted for his refusal. His word was his Krushan law, and he adhered to it. Praise his greatness!”
“Blessed be!” the Senate responded, uttering the appropriate response.
Vessa acknowledged them and continued.
“Jilana summoned me next. I appeared before her at once, for a mother is as a god to a child, and my mother’s call is no less than a summons from the gods themselves to me. She told me of her quandary and asked me to step in to perform the necessary duty. I was reluctant because even then, I could see, through the shadowy fog of time, that on that path lay many treacherous twists and turns, and even the slightest misstep could lead the entire Krushan dynasty astray. My mother can be very insistent, and she convinced me that to leave the empire without an heir would bring about the certain destruction of the Krushan race in time. I mused upon this and concluded that she was accurate in her assessment. A House without heirs was a House without a future. So long as Vrath lived and continued to suppress the forces that rallied against Hastinaga, the empire would stay intact, but it would be held together by war, and at a terrible cost to its kingdoms. What good an empire that has to fight itself constantly? It would be akin to a person suffering from so many diseases that over time she was forced to cut off parts of her body until finally she lay in bloody fragments.
“Historically, no family that lacked heirs has continued to flourish. This is even more true of ruling dynasties. ‘Yatham rajanam, tatham prajanam,’ I said at the outset. This is true of families as well as empires. If the ruling family dies out, how can the civil family prosper? A ruling dynasty is creator and preserver to her citizens. In order for Hastinaga to survive and continue prospering, the House of Krushan must survive and prosper. Even a child understands this simple truth. With their husbands dead, the only way for the princesses Ember and Umber to bear progeny was for me to seed their wombs.
“My initial reluctance to my mother’s request was not for lack of understanding, but because I sensed the many possible missteps ahead on this new pathway. I urged her to speak with her daughters-in-law to prepare them adequately for the task. For even the flutter of a butterfly’s wings can set off a storm, given the right chain of circumstances. It was crucial that Ember and Umber receive my seed with positive acceptance, for every action or inaction would cast its mark on the future of the Krushan race.”
Everyone listened raptly. This was the very topic that had set so many young ears and tongues on fire for so long. To hear it discussed in open court by the very man who was at the center of all that gossip caused intense excitement. Some more prurient minds perhaps hoped for explicit details that would reflect the steamy fictions of the plays that claimed to depict the events of those nights. They were about to be disappointed.
“Sadly, while my mother was wise in years and understanding, and did her best to make her daughters-in-law aware of the importance of their roles in this crucial time, the young princesses Ember and Umber were themselves immature and lacking in self-control. Their reception, and one attempt at dec
eption, led to the two young princes Adri and Shvate being born with some limitations. My third child conceived in this time, the good counselor Vida, was the only one of the three offspring to be possessed of all faculties, but as per the laws of succession, he lacked the genetic authority to be considered an heir.
“As a result, the House of Krushan was left with a blind prince and an albino prince. This caused further unrest among the opponents of the empire, particularly the one who has been a bane of all righteous human beings in the Burnt Empire. I speak of course of the vile and vicious Jarsun of Reygistan.”
A rustle of unease passed through hall. The name of Jarsun was rarely if ever spoken aloud in Hastinaga since the incidents of the unnatural eclipse. Many of those present shuddered, gasped, or displayed similar reactions. They or someone they knew closely had been afflicted by the events of that night. Many had yet to recover fully. Their faces reflected their discomfort, even pain, at the name of the Reygistani.
Vessa surveyed the hall, taking in these reactions.
“All of you have been subjected to his evil. The night of the eclipse was his doing. This was not his first attempt at harming the Burnt Empire. Earlier, he had gathered a conspiracy of our most disgruntled allies and used his urrkh powers to coerce them into rebelling openly against Hastinaga. This culminated in the Battle of the Rebels. His shameful loss at that venue left him enraged and frustrated. The night of the eclipse was his response. Resorting to the terrorizing of ordinary citizens rather than daring to attack with military means, he struck a blow to the very heart of the empire. I myself was summoned here that night by my mother, and I chased the devil out of the city, forcing him to flee before he could wreak total destruction upon us. What transpired next is the reason for my presence here.”
Upon a Burning Throne Page 48