Veer remained silent, neither agreeing nor denying the command couched as a request.
“That’s what I thought,” said the commander, satisfied, as if Veer just confirmed what he was suspecting. “You’re no mere blacksmith. You may have the skill, and your physique certainly provides credence, but your occupation doesn’t explain the myriad scars we found when we applied the poultice on your back. If I were to make a guess, I’d say a soldier defecting from Thianvelli or a spy.”
“If I were a spy, I’d be stupid to run into the guards of Amaravathi. And why would Thianvelli chase me?” argued Veer.
The commander got up and walked toward him, his stride unconsciously graceful. “You didn’t run into us, we saved you. And Thianvelli doesn’t tolerate defectors easily.”
He crouched near, but still at a safe distance that Veer couldn’t make a grab for him. Something niggled in the back of his head, seeing the commander. An odd sense of familiarity coupled with unease.
“But that doesn’t explain the red glow from your hand or the fact that you’re obviously a foreigner to these parts. You have a careful way of pronouncing words that gives you away,” continued the commander, a hardness entering his eyes when he glanced at Veer’s left hand, where his red ruby sat prominentlyon his forefinger. The jewel in it wasn’t expensive, but it was rare. “You should know that neither Thianvelli nor Amaravathi tolerates wizards.”
Veer had firsthand experience of how mistrusted magic users were in this part of the world. Even Sage Aswi couldn’t quite keep the distaste out of his voice after he had discovered that Veer was a wizard and capable of commanding one of the “divine birds”, such as the Brahminy kite.
“Nothing to say, stranger?” prodded the commander.
“Any words I say are probably wasted. You’ve formed an opinion, and I doubt I can change it,” said Veer, scowling.
“Don’t be like that,” said the commander, walking away with a grace that rivaled the court dancers of Amba. “We’ll give you a very comfortable ride all the way to Amaravathi’s prison, and when you decide you’ve had enough and tell the truth, you can be on your merry way. In the meantime, I hope you can understand why I must bind your hands until then.”
* * *
The storm didn’t let up for a long time. Veer, who had never experienced a tropical storm of this intensity before, was amazed at the fury of nature. Every so often, lightning struck the ground, scorching the damp grass. Sometimes the earth reacted, sending up a charge of lightning, a crooked pillar of intense flash from the ground to the sky.
He wondered how Shota was going to reach him in this weather. Veer had freed his hands a short while ago, but he knew without some help, he couldn’t make it out in the storm.
Their hideout amid the rocks ensured that they had a dry place to pass the night. The fire had died to embers. People retired to what quiet corners they could find to sit hunched over. Murmurs quieted down, and many were nodding off. Includingthe guard assigned to keep watch over him. Either this group of soldiers were incompetent, or tired to the point of exhaustion.
Veer expanded his senses. A field mouse searched in the dirt for something to eat, a frog exhilarated at the sound of rain as it heralded the mating season, and in the distance, he felt the patient wait of his bird, Vihari.
A sound broke his concentration. He realized he heard it through the senses of the field mouse and smiled. He should have known his friend would find a way.
Shota dropped down beside him a minute later, drenched to his skin. He had come over from the top of the boulders, through a narrow gap. A wooden shield covered his back, and he offered another one to Veer.
Veer signaled him to be quiet and pointed across the camp to where the commander seemed to be dozing, slumped against a boulder, a sword draped across the thighs. Shota nodded and handed Veer a small satchel of sleeping powder. Stealthily, they made their way through the camp, blowing the odorless powder into the faces of sleeping men.
Veer did the same when he reached the leader and, on an impulse, carefully lowered the scarf covering the bottom part of the face. When his suspicion proved true, of who exactly the leader was, a grim smile crossed his face.
Cognizant of the passing time, he made quick work of puttingherto sleep and joined Shota at the entrance of the hideout, peering around the boulders. Dense sheets of rain obscured everything in sight, so he couldn’t see more than a few feet farther.
He looked back at the commander sleeping peacefully by the fire, shadows wreathed about her once more.
“Veer?” called Shota, a bit impatiently.
Shaking his head, Veer slipped the wooden shield across his back and plunged into the rain.
Chapter 6: Backdoor Meetings
Princess Chandrasena of Amaravathi buffed the guava on the end of her trailing saree and offered it to the parrot on the windowsill.
It took a dainty bite of her finger.
She jumped, more from the shock than the sting, causing the parrot to fly away.
Her maid made a sound of dismay. “Chandra, if you don’t keep still, I might make you sit longer until I get it correct. I made allowances for you to sit by the window, so you won’t get bored. Do you have to fidget constantly as well?” Kalpana was patiently trying to paint Chandra’s hands withhenna, a ground paste made from leaves that stained the hand red in the pattern it was applied.
It was a running joke between all her handlers since childhood that the princess was too impatient to allow for the more elaborate designs, so her hands were always decorated with the more simplistic ones suited for young girls: a series of block circles on her palm and block red for her fingertips.
Kalpana’s six-year-old son, Sarun, in his typical youthful innocence, had once likened the circles to cow dung patties,causing his mother to chase him with a broom for disrespect and gales of laughter from the princess.
