Shresta Guru, or Guruji as he was affectionately called, was once the prime minister of Amaravathi, who had come out of retirement a few years ago at the behest of King Chandraketu. He had spent a greater part of his life as a teacher to the royal family, having taught three generations and was revered in the kingdom because of his long service.
He turned away and beckoned her to follow him. They moved away from the ramparts built into the side of the hill, toward the well-tended gardens of the royal quarters.
Devarakonda was the name of the hill where their ancestors had built a temple in honor of their patron goddess. A city grew around it catering to the needs of pilgrims. The royal family also had separate quarters built to reside important guests when they happened to be visiting.Chandra and her mother weren’t allowed to live in the royal quarters, but she was granted entry to go in and leave as she pleased.
“Why do you think she refused, Princess?” asked Guruji over his shoulder.
Chandra had been pondering the same thing earlier while waiting for Guruji.
“She must have help from someone else,” she said slowly, thinking back to that night. How she wished she could’ve gone to meet the queen of Thianvelli instead of her bodyguard, Girish, but Guruji had been unusually adamant that she wasn’t to cross the border into Thianvelli.Something about it being a nightmare of epic proportions if she were to get caught.
Since the incident of Chandra’s marriage and her subsequent fall from grace, Guruji had taken her under his wing. It was on his advice that she trained under the sect of sages in Devarakonda and was able to master the latent powers granted to their clan by their patron goddess. She would be forever grateful to him for his unstinting support during those difficult times.
So, when Guruji approached her with the task of finding the whereabouts of the queen of Thianvelli, she didn’t hesitate to agree. She knew Guruji’s loyalty to Amaravathi was absolute, and he would never do anything to jeopardize that. The only reason he had asked her was because her father, King Chandraketu, was sick and her brother Bhupathi was unavailable, having left in search of a cure.
He led the way toward a short stone table set a little above the sloping paved path in the gardens of the temple city.
“Any news about my brother?” asked Chandra anxiously.
“No, Chandrasena.” Guruji sat on the stone bench and gestured for her to do the same. She sat at the opposite side of the table. “I have no news regarding Prince Bhupathi.”
Her heart twinged with a worry that grew more acute as time passed. She wished her brother would return soon. The current ruling body of Amaravathi was a triumvirate, which consisted of her stepmother, Queen Rathi Devi, the general of Amaravathi, and Guruji. Because of the divided power structure, the operations were rarely smooth.
Guruji was often at loggerheads with the rest of the triumvirate. It wouldn’t have mattered so much if they knew where her brother was, but a few months after he had left on his search, they lost his trace.
“Do you know the story about the devas and danavas and Meru’s explosion?” asked Guruji.
Chandra was startled at the abrupt change in topic and tried to shift her mind from her musings. “Oh…of course. How could I forget King Amarendra’s legendary exploits? Everyone knows about the story of Meru and the lotus key. But like so many myths that surround King Amarendra, I’m not sure if there’s something more to the legend than a story written to build his reputation as a fearless leader.”
In her childhood, she used to pester her father, or anyone willing, for stories of the most famous of Amaravathi’s kings. She could remember and recite almost all Amarendra’s lore by the time she was six and had dreamed of going on adventures as a child. It had taken her a long time to realize that some of them were very much embellished.
“It’s not a story, Princess,” said Guruji. Chandra was puzzled at the urgency in his tone. “It is very real, and it’s almost time when the mechanism atop Meru needs to be keyed again.”
Chandra’s mouth fell open in shock and confusion. “But…they are bedtime stories. Surely you’re not serious.”
“Listen to me, Chandrasena,” he said. His eyes blazed with intensity, as if trying to impress the seriousness of the situation on her. “Meru’s explosion is a disaster and would affect the entire Saptavarsha, not just the kingdom that sprang up in the foothills of the Vindhyas. King Amarendra took this matter seriously and made this knowledge of Meru widely available. It has always been the duty of rulers of Amaravathi, his direct descendants, to preserve the knowledge of the key, to make sure it is passed down, to ensure the continuity of the line who canoperate the lotus key.” He paused. “In fact, his descendants are the only ones who can operate it.”
Chandra listened with dawning horror. “But if that’s true, my brother’s missing, my father’s sick…who can get to Meru in time?”
Guruji stared at her with a strange expression she couldn’t immediately interpret. “The heirs of Amaravathi don’t exclude the women, Princess.”
Silence fell as she was struck dumb by his revelation. “You want me to go in his stead,” she said, a numb feeling enveloping her, understanding finally why he had called for this urgent meeting.
“Yes, that’s right,” said Guruji grimly. “But it is not a simple task of turning the key alone. After its last use, for reasons unknown, King Amarendra had the key broken down into its components. You will need to find them all first before using it.”
“But it makes the task more difficult. Why would King Amarendra do that if this key is something that can save lives?” cried Chandra.
“That’s something I haven’t been able to find an answer to,” said Guruji, his brows pleated in frustration. “And I had the royal scholars go over the documents extensively for the past few months. If there’s a reason, it’s probably lost in the great fire we had a decade ago, which had destroyed our trove of scrolls.”
“How can we find all the component pieces when we have little information about where he hid them?” she asked, piqued at the enormity of the task and how little she had to go on.
Guruji’s brow cleared at her question. “Fortunately, I have been able to find the answer tothatquestion. The key is magical. It seeks to repair itself. It will guide you regarding where you can find the next piece.”
Silence reigned once again. Chandra struggled to absorb the information Guruji had doled out.
Her hands clenched into her lap. If she were to leave, then who would look after her mother, who had left her life as a queen in protest over Chandra’s punishment. Who would cajole Kalpana into accepting Girish’s suit? Sarun was sick, too, and the task Guruji set her would remain incomplete—not that she had any illusions that she was the only one Guruji relied on, to keep peace in the kingdom, or to further whatever political schemes he was hatching.
Her life was here. Amaravathi had been her home, ever since she turned eight, when she left behind a life and a childhood in the sea kingdom of Sumedh, her mother’s native place.
