Upon a Burning Throne

by Ashok K. Banker

  “I do know, because I know you, Mayla. And the answer is no.” She pointed at Shvate, then at Mayla. “To both of you!”

  They had been arguing for only a few minutes when there was a sudden loud sound from the hut. They felt the jolt in the ground, as if a tree had just been felled, or something equally heavy had dropped from a height.

  They ran inside together, crowding the little space.

  The grinding stone that they had cleaned and kept inside as a barrier, to keep the baby cots from toppling over, lay in pieces, shattered as if struck by a boulder dropped from a height. It would take something that heavy to shatter the massive flat stone.

  Sitting amidst the shattered pieces of rough black stone was their second born, clutching the tiny fist of her elder brother. She looked up unsteadily at them as they entered. She smiled at them, then returned her attention to her brother. Putting both arms around her brother’s pallet, she cradled him and picked up the entire bundle, baby and all. A loud, wet, smacking sound came from the point where her mouth connected with her brother’s belly. She kissed her brother and then set him down slowly, carefully, as easily as Mayla might lower a kitten.

  Then she rolled over and went promptly to sleep. After a moment, her thumb found its way into her mouth and she began to snore lightly.

  They went out of the hut again without saying another word. Mayla wanted to ask if they should pick up the pieces of the broken grinding stone, then thought that if the baby was strong enough to have broken it into pieces by falling out of the crib, she was probably strong enough not to come to any harm lying on the pieces. From the ease with which she had fallen asleep, Mayla thought this might be the case.

  “She’s strong,” she said. “And heavy.”

  Karni and Shvate looked at Mayla together, then at each other. Karni was smiling. Shvate frowned, as he tried to read Karni’s mood.

  Mayla understood what Karni was feeling and thinking. She smiled back at Karni. They linked arms and shared a sisterly moment of consonance.

  Finally, Karni turned back to Shvate and said, “Only once more. And then I’m done.”

  Mayla whispered in Karni’s ear: “Please.”

  Karni sighed and said, “And if Mayla wishes, she can use the mantra too. But only once.”

  Shvate nodded, thinking so hard Mayla could see his eyes rolling up in his head. “So that’s once more for you, and once for Mayla.”

  “It’s not fair that you should get three turns, and I only get one,” Mayla said.

  “It’s not fair that you’re able to consume five times as much wine as I can and still not put on weight,” Karni said. “But that’s life.”

  Mayla thought about that and then nodded, smiling. She patted her flat belly, feeling the taut abdominal muscles beneath the skin. “I suppose that’s true. Very well, then. I accept.”

  Karni smiled at her as if Mayla had told a big joke. “Only once, Mayla! No tricks! I know you.” She turned to Shvate and pointed at their husband. “And after, we’re done. Don’t think you’re going to get us to procreate an entire clan fathered by the gods!”

  Shvate put his palms together and bowed his head in mock submission. “Yes, my lady, I accept your terms.”

  Karni drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “Very well, then, let us get it over with, so we can get on with the business of raising our children, before they grow up before our very eyes!”

  Karni

  Karni had barely finished reciting the mantra when a bolt of lightning cracked open the darkling sky, landing right in front of her in the clearing. She was too startled to even jump back. The bolt struck ground, and the entire forest seemed to reverberate with the echoes of thunder that rolled and pealed for yojanas. Vast flocks of birds, already settled in their nests, rose again and littered the sky as they cried out in outrage.

  A stocky figure that seemed on first appearance almost as wide as he was tall stood before her. Flashes of lightning flickered in his eyes and continued to flicker from time to time. He wore earrings and jewelry and an assortment of accessories on his tight-fitting leather garments and body. He was powerfully built, but also bulky in the way that some muscular men became with time and age, and while she might have expected that the Lord of Storms and War would be as sleek as lightning and as fearsome as thunder, she could only confirm one of the above. That he was strong was not in any doubt; he had the hard look of the veteran warrior, one who had spent his lifetime, or several thousand human lifetimes, doing nothing but fighting. A thought occurred to Karni: This is what Shvate might look like if he were to live several million years and be at war all that while, with no wives, children, or any other family to soften his hard edges.

  I know of your desire, woman, he said curtly. You desire a child by my seed.

  He’s a direct one, not even a moment to know my name or ask me any questions. He isn’t even looking at me with real interest.

  Lightning flickered in Inadran’s eyes. I am a god. I already know everything worth knowing about you, mortal. Let us not waste time. If you want my seed, say so. I have wars to wage and battles to fight.

  She was tempted to reply in the negative but squashed the thought even before it could emerge fully. Be cautious, Karni! “I do, my lord,” she said, inclining her head to show respect. “Grant me the gift of bearing the greatest warrior that ever lived.”

  He smiled, showing a dark emptiness where his mouth ought to have been. Within that darkness, she glimpsed two great armies of strange, alien beings clashing at night on a battlefield under three suns, the sky a color she could not even name: fires raged and explosions boomed, killing millions at a blast. She looked down quickly, sensing that these were not sights intended for human perception. Careful, Karni. That boon has already been granted, as you well know. By Sharra.

  She swallowed, trying to think of a response that would not sound offensive or foolish. Before her mind could come up with one, he contin‑ued.

  I will give you the next best thing: a warrior so powerful that he alone will be the equal of Sharra’s son. But you know what that means, do you not?

  She kept her eyes lowered. His hand, held at his waist, was flickering with lightning, gathering more and more power, building into a ball of pure energy. “I . . . am not sure, my lord. Pray, enlighten me.”

  The two greatest warriors of all time, both walking Arthaloka at the same time. It is inevitable that sooner or later they will seek each other out . . . and duel. And when they do so, the duel will be historic and conclusive. Only one will survive that encounter. In case I have not made it amply clear yet, let me clarify further. If I do this, then one day, both your children will face each other and fight to the death. One will kill the other.

  She gasped and felt a sharp pain in her chest, like a large needle heated, then inserted between her ribs. She had felt the same pain when she had seen her son Kern for the first time, on the night of the eclipse. “Forgive me, Lord Inadran, but . . . is there no way to prevent such an outcome?”

  She saw his chest heaving, his body shaking. She knew he was laughing, but he produced no sound from his mouth, just shook silently, laughing at her heartbreak and dismay. What a bastard, she thought with a flash of anger.

  Nay, Karni of Hastinaga. As you well know! It is too late for second thoughts now. Once summoned, I must fulfill your wish. Here, he said, and slapped his hand low on her belly, filling her with a surge of such bright mind-melting power that she lost consciousness instantly.

  Mayla

  Mayla was trembling with excitement and anticipation. And anxiety too. Karni had told her so many things about the different gods she had summoned, but had also cautioned her that each god was vastly different from the others, so not to assume that any of her experiences would have any bearing on Mayla’s own encounter.

  Mayla had been shocked by Karni’s state after the last summoning. They had suspected something amiss when she hadn’t returned after a few hours and had gone to the clearing, where
they found her still unconscious, sprawled on the ground. The baby beside her had been quite well, already sitting up and playing. He was looking up at something with such intense concentration, Mayla had to look up to see what it could be.

  All she could see was the dawn sky just starting to lighten, trees and more trees. After a moment, she saw a bird on a branch high above, so high that she could barely see it in the dim gloaming. The bird was sitting on the branch, its head cocked to one side, looking down. It was almost as if the bird and the child were both looking at each other, the bird staring down with one eye, as if ready to fly should the child make any sudden moves. But he’s just a baby! She thought. What could he possibly do?

  Then the baby pointed a chubby finger at the bird and the bird startled, flapping its wings and soaring off into the dawn sky, and she thought, Well, that was interesting. If he had a bow and an arrow . . .

  Karni had been all right, but clearly exhausted. Shvate had looked stricken when they found her, and his customary joy at viewing the baby for the first time was dimmed by his concern for Karni’s well-being. The baby had not seemed to mind, tugging at Shvate’s beard and playing with it each time he bent over to check on Karni.

  “She just needs sleep and rest,” Mayla told him. “Tend to her for a while. When she wakes, make her eat something. She is nursing and needs her strength. I will be back soon.”

  He had looked up as she rose to go. She thought he might call her back, tell her not to go, but he said nothing, only looked at her the way he used to look at her each time they went into battle together, an expression of caring, strength, and shared succor that always filled her heart and made her feel that she was fighting the good fight. She nodded curtly to him, acknowledging him, and left.

  Now she stood in the same clearing, about to recite the mantra.

  She had intended to speak the mantra slowly, cautiously, to avoid making the slightest error. But when the moment came, she said it all in a fierce rush, like drawing her sword and hacking off an enemy’s head in a single action. She added the name of the god she had summoned and waited.

  At first she thought that nothing had happened. Karni had warned her to expect thunder, lightning, tornadoes, storms, and the gods alone knew what else.

  The clearing remained quiet and still, the sky bright now in the morning light. Bars of sunlight filtered through the canopy of the jungle, one falling near her foot. It was warm on her toes. She heard the clip-clop of cloven hooves and identified it as a Coldheart Mountain stag. Something as large and as heavy as an elephant calf or a large bison. Except . . . she could make out four pairs of hooves. That meant two stags? Or two bison? That was highly unlikely.

  “Mayla devi.”

  She turned with a gasp of surprise.

  Two magnificent beings stood before her.

  Their fore bodies were human in appearance, handsome, well-built, with clearly etched muscles and taut, lean physiques. Their nether bodies most closely resembled horses, yet were not entirely equine. She could see tufts of fur and horns protruding from their flanks, which would be very discouraging to anyone who made the mistake of trying to ride them like earthly horses; also their tails were very different, distinct from any horse Mayla had ever seen, elaborately braided and decorated with bright, colorful gemstones.

  Their faces gleamed with curiosity and interest. They were both looking at her with tilted heads, an ironic quirk on one’s right cheek, a curled eyebrow on the other’s face.

  “You, you . . .” she stammered. “Are the Asvas.”

  “Isn’t that who you summoned?” asked the one with the dark curly hair and a small bristling pointed beard on the tip of his chin. She saw that he had kohl in his eyes, or perhaps that was just they way they were naturally. He had thick tufts of hair on his muscular chest.

  “Unless you were expecting someone else!” said the other, tossing back his light-colored straight hair. He was smooth of cheek and hairless on his forebody, but his chest was just as sleekly muscled.

  “I—” She broke off, unsure of what to say. She could scarcely believe it had actually worked. I am in the presence of two gods! The Asva twins. “I seek a boon.”

  Both raised their eyebrows. “Only one?”

  She looked from one to the other in confusion. “I desire a child. A child who will be beloved of all, irresistible, endearing, and affectionate, and capable of engendering great loyalty from all living beings.”

  They cocked their heads again. “Interesting choice of words,” said the one with light-colored hair and eyes. “All living beings? Do you include animal species in that?”

  “Of course she does,” said his dark-haired brother. “Insects, birds, fish, everything that lives and moves.”

  “So does that include trees and plants too? Because they do move and live, but very slowly.”

  She cleared her throat.

  They looked at her.

  “Yes,” she said. “Everything, every species, the entire kingdom of beasts and all else besides.”

  They looked at her, and smiles slowly appeared on their faces. “I like that phrasing, ‘kingdom of beasts.’ It is so apt. They have their own kingdom, after all.”

  “I’m not so sure about ‘beasts,’ though,” said the other, frowning and tapping the side of his head thoughtfully. “Oh, well, it’ll do.”

  She walked up to them, placing her bare hands on their bare chests. Their muscles rippled in tactile response. She rubbed their chests, relishing the difference between them, the sheer maleness of them both, the partly animal smell and look and feel, and beneath all these physical sensations, the power of godhead itself, very much present and vibrant in their magnificent forms.

  “Would it be possible to have two at the same time?” she asked in her sweetest, most affectionate tone. “Twins?”

  They exchanged a glance and smiled, eyes twinkling.

  “Why not?” they said together.

  Geldry

  Geldry hated visiting the nursery.

  The first time she had come here, she thought she had stepped into an animal pen.

  The sounds of her 101 children crying resembled the cries of animals more than human babies. She said so aloud, and the wet nurses told her it was only because there were so many of them, and they all tended to cry together, especially when the eldest started up. But she heard the fear in their voices too and sensed their nervousness. She had worn the eyeband as she did in public, so had to rely on her maids to steer her and on her ears and other senses for impressions. Her sense of smell was overwhelmed too. Animals, she told herself, they smell like animals!

  She asked the wet nurses if they permitted pets in here, making it sound like an admonition. The wet nurses hesitated, then said no, that was only the smell of the babies. One of the wet nurses made some remark about how 101 babies defecating and urinating constantly would produce some smell. But Geldry had smelled babies before, and babies didn’t produce anything that smelled like this. She had not said anything further in front of the wet nurses, but she had told Kune later in her chambers that it felt like being in an animal pen or a menagerie, not a nursery.

  The same foul odor met her now as she entered. She stopped abruptly, felt her body tense, her breath catch, then sniffed tentatively, trying to confirm that she was really smelling what she was smelling.

  She did not spend much time in the nursery. She couldn’t bear it. And after her visit was done, she excused herself to the wet nurses and rushed away. She regurgitated the contents of her stomach. But once the sick feeling had passed, she had smiled, satisfied. She couldn’t wait for Adri to visit his children. She hoped he would enjoy the visit. They were her gift to him, and to Hastinaga.

  Back in her chambers, she laughed and went over the incident with Kune, again and again, drinking wine and having a merry time of it as they waited for their real lives to start, for the plan in the forest to be completed, for the coronation in two days, and for the empire to be theirs to control and do with
as they pleased.

  Their time was coming, Krushan be damned.

  Jilana

  1

  The guards outside the chambers straightened up and saluted Jilana smartly as she approached. They opened the doors and announced her: “Enter . . . Dowager Empress Mother Jilana!”

  The bedchamber was dark and smelled of stale sweat, food, and even wine. Since when had Adri taken to drinking wine? Or had he always drunk it? She looked around the darkened chamber. An air of sadness and self-pity hung in the air. This was not the chamber of a crown prince. It was the chamber of a man who had given up all love for life itself. She cursed herself for not coming sooner. I thought he would get over it by himself in time. Quite apparently he had not: judging by the state of these chambers, he was still wallowing in self-pity and grief. He’s a man, she thought. What do you expect?

  She went to the verandah and tugged hard at the drapes. She could have called in servants to do it, but she didn’t want to intrude on Adri’s privacy any more than she already was. The fewer people who saw the crown prince of Hastinaga in this state, the better. With a struggle, she got the drapes to move and pulled them all the way open, letting in an explosion of daylight that turned the dark, musty room bright.

  She dusted off her hands—the drapes needed changing and laundering, she would tell the maids to see to that—and turned to face the bed. The lone figure sprawled across the large satin-sheeted expanse was still dead to the world. Jilana put her hands on her hips and waited for the bright light to wake him up, then remembered with a shock of embarrassment that bright light or dim light made no difference to a blind man. She resisted the impulse to slap herself on the forehead and went over to the bed. She saw belatedly that he was stark naked, but fortunately he was lying face-down. His hands were raised up above his head and his head turned aside: even in sleep, his posture was one of defeat.