“The traitor emperor possesses a weapon of fire. A green-sabered warrior in a highborn’s court,” Bhumika quoted from the letter. “The empress knows the Birch Bark Mantras very well.”
“She does,” Priya said quietly. “She uses it like your poets do. Telling one story to tell another. But you know that, don’t you? You’ve read every word she’s sent me.”
“I’ve read every word the self-proclaimed empress of Parijatdvipa has sent my fellow elder of Ahiranya, yes,” Bhumika said with exaggerated patience. “If you want private correspondence, Priya, then perhaps you’ll decide to seek the affections of a less powerful woman. You don’t need to be annoyed with me over it.”
“I’m not annoyed about it,” Priya lied.
“I’m sure,” Bhumika said. “Do you have any more insight into the choice of ‘green-sabered warrior’ than I do?”
The tale Malini had referenced was obscure enough that it was likely very few people from beyond Ahiranya would know it. Even in Ahiranya, it would not be well known. It was a small fable—the story of a warrior who claimed his sword of green wood was yaksa-blessed, that it contained a yaksa’s great powers. With his lie, he entered the service of a highborn—and brought about the death of his lord in battle. It was a warning.
“A false weapon,” Priya murmured. “A false flame that is not blessed. That will bring ruin.” She hesitated, then said, “Have you heard anything about fire? Anything that happened to Mali—to the empress’s army?”
The war had felt distant to them, so far. They had only faced limited attacks from the emperor’s forces, easily quelled by the forest and their magic, and Jeevan’s carefully arranged patrols of soldiers. The emperor’s focus was clearly on his sister, and as long as she concentrated her efforts on places that were not Ahiranya, the emperor would do the same.
“I don’t have spies in theempress’sarmy, as much as I’d like to,” Bhumika said dryly. She’d definitely caught Priya’s slip. “But the messenger she sent to us shared a little with the maid who brought him his dinner and offered him sympathy for having to travel so far so swiftly. The empress was intending to treat with the High Prince of Saketa. But when she arrived, the High Prince’s men attacked her own with fire. The messenger implied it was—unusual flame. But he was reluctant to say more.”
“I’m sure he was,” Priya muttered. Bhumika’s best maidservants were very good at prying information out of people, but there was a limit to what could be accomplished discreetly. “Do you think it’s fire like their mothers of flame once used upon the yaksa?”
“I think the Parijatdvipans may believe it is, even if the empress doesn’t,” Bhumika said steadily. “I can imagine that has some—implications.”
The pause between her words was heavy with meaning.
“You’re going to have to tell me what all the implications are.”
A sigh. “Priya.”
“What? I’m just being honest. Or I can pretend I have a mind as clever as yours. Would you like me to lie?”
“The Parijati worship the mothers and their fire,” Bhumika said. “A person who controls that fire is, surely, the rightful ruler of the empire. And if it is not Empress Malini, then she will not cling to that title ofempressfor long.” Bhumika’s gaze flickered between the letter still clutched tenderly in Priya’s hands, and Priya’s face. “You’re going to have to try to think as I do,” Bhumika went on. “If you do as she wishes.”
And there it was. The request Malini had made. Between tales from the Birch Bark Mantras, and remarks about weather and travel, and wishes for Ahiranya’s health, and the health of its elders and highborn—there was the real reason for her letter.
“I don’t know what to do,” Priya admitted. “She’s asked for an elder. That doesn’t mean…” Priya paused. Swallowed, and said, “What do you think I should do?”
“Think like me,” Bhumika said. “Just for a moment.”
Priya tried.
“Why does she want an elder at all?” Priya asked, finally.
“She doesn’t want an elder,” said Bhumika. “She wants you.”
You don’t know that, Priya thought. But of course Bhumika did. Just as Priya knew. It was Priya she had written to; Priya she had remembered, even when she stopped being a princess and took up a greater crown.
“I don’t see how I could help her,” Priya said.
“Can’t you? With your gifts?”
“The gifts that the elders had before us were no good against the mothers’ fire, long ago.”
“If the fire is false, our gifts—your gifts—will suffice,” said Bhumika.
“I’m needed here.”
“So many excuses,” murmured Bhumika. “It’s almost as if you don’t want to go. Is that so?”
Priya swallowed. “This is home. And I have so much to do. The people—the rot—”
