“Do it for Padma’s sake, then,” she said.
She thought he’d ask questions. Instead, he raised his headand looked at her… and nodded. Eyes piercing, too understanding by far.
“You’re going to Alor?”
“Today.”
“Come back safe,” he said quietly. “I’ll take care of everyone while you’re gone. I promise.”
She, Ganam, and their followers went to the bower of bones and stepped onto a new path. The first path she’d dreamt of.
The path that smelled of salt didn’t lead to the sea but to one of Alor’s churning rivers. Light flecked the water, and fish were leaping from its wild surface. A few fighters laughed with delight at the sight. She looked into their faces and felt her own heart lighten at the sight of their joy.
They walked across Alor. It reminded her a little of Saketa’s vast green and gold rolling landscape. But unlike Saketa, Alor was lush, with dark soil and rich fields, vast rivers snaking across the landscape. The trees curled into the water, deep roots coiling into the silt.
As they walked, she teased Ganam—tugging a smile out of him, and then laughter.
“Let me show you how to make paths,” she said, nudging her shoulder against his arm. “Go on.”
“That seems like a thrice-born skill to me,” he said dubiously, squinting against the sunlight.
“It isn’t,” she insisted. “Now that I’ve learned it, it’s pretty simple.” She reached for him in the sangam—half in the waters and half in the world—and began to show him the trick of it.
Their joy dimmed as they passed fields cut through with rot. They saw villages shuttered and abandoned. Priya saw a few emaciated, hollow-eyed figures in the distance. They ran when they saw the Ahiranyi.
This was the world the yaksa were creating.
Priya looked at the people around her.
This was the worldtheywere creating.
Night fell. They made camp, the warriors asleep around them.
Priya took herself to the very edge of the camp, far enough away that she felt near enough to alone. She settled on the ground.
Ganam soon followed after her.
“Are you all right, Priya?”
“I need you to listen to me,” Priya said. “I’m going to be maudlin and you’re going to have to be patient.”
“I think I can do that,” Ganam said. He sat on the ground beside her.
“Is someone on watch?” Priya asked.
“Yes,” said Ganam. “You can just talk.”
“I’ve hidden vials of deathless waters,” she said. “In Bhumika’s study, and in Kritika’s old rooms. Ruchi’s already used three, and I know that a few more fighters have drunk waters broken from the source. They’re going to need it, and it’s only a matter of time before the yaksa realize they can control all of us by withholding the waters from our people. So keep the vials hidden. Use them carefully.”
“Priya.” His voice was urgent—aware. “What are you trying to do?”
“What do you mean?”
“Teaching me how to make paths, giving me vials of deathless water… Is something going to happen to you?”
She didn’t want to answer him.
“I grabbed the knife the Saketans used to stab you,” she said instead. “I buried it near the bower of bones. You’ll be able to find it easily—I marked it with ashoka blossoms. If you ever need to fight another temple elder or once- or twice-born, or someone who drank the waters, or a yaksa, you’ll find it useful. It has some kind of magic it in that stops our own.”
