Prince of Dharma (64 page)

The whole ambush had taken only a few minutes. It had been easier than she’d expected. The Vajra Kshatriyas had been ill-prepared for the attack, and their leader was disoriented by her part-doe part-rakshasi appearance at first sight. He had acted exactly as she had known he would; she had fought Vajra Kshatriyas before. For all their so-called unconventional tactics, Aryas were far too predictable for a truly experienced asura. She had seen Vajra Kshatriyas try the same separate-andsurround tactic as much as three hundred years ago. The outcome of that fight had been the same as this one. 

She climbed back up on to the boulder, her claws rasping on the craggy lohit-stone. The moon illuminated her bloody fur, making it glisten wetly. She would sit here a while and bask in the moonlight. Her cousin would probably contact her again tonight, to find out if she had carried out his orders. 

Just a few hours away from Rama, and she already missed him. She had followed him down the river yesterday, all the way into the Bhayanak-van. During the battle she had transformed into a langur and climbed a tree, staying high enough to be hidden, low enough to watch. 

Seeing him slaughter her fellow asuras had aroused her powerfully. It had been a thrill to watch a mortal who could stand up to so many of her brothers and sisters and slay them so efficiently. While staying alive and unharmed himself, of course. She had watched and grown more attracted to him than before. 

She had a plan. She would speak to her cousin when he contacted her later tonight. Convince Ravana that Rama was now immune to any assassination attempt. That even Kala-Nemi wouldn’t be able to get close to him now. With the power of the maha-mantras, the guidance of the sage, and the dev-astras in his possession, Rama was all but invulnerable. 

But he could be reached by a woman. Because of her part-mortal parentage, Supanakha could take the form of a mortal woman so convincingly, even the brahmarishi wouldn’t know for certain that she wasn’t one. That was how she had been able to follow them so closely all the way to the Bhayanak-van. And before that, she had been able to observe them in Anangaashrama undetected. 

Yes. Where an assassin would surely fail, a woman might succeed. A beautiful young Arya woman who was in some distress, whom they happened to come across while on their journey to Mithila. She already knew they would set out tomorrow at daybreak. She could race ahead of them, just as she had raced ahead of this Vajra company tonight. And ambush them just as effectively. Using deception and disguise rather than surprise and shock. 

Supanakha smiled, her teeth flashing brightly in the moonlight. Yes, that was a fine plan. Now all she had to do was convince Ravana. Her smile faded. That was easier said than done. But she would manage it somehow. She simply had to get close to Rama, touch his smooth young body again, feel his heart beating against her breast once more. 

Even if she had to tear out that heart a moment later. 

After all, she was a rakshasi. And among her kind, there was very little difference between mating and murder. 

In fact, she had often found that the latter was far more pleasurable than the former. 

She raised her head and howled at the moon, exulting in her recent victory and her forthcoming conquest. The sound carried for yojanas on the still night air. 

She waited for Ravana to come to her and hear her plan. 

TWO 

Sumitra-maa was the last to arrive. She had never been to the seal room before and had taken two wrong turns getting here. She scurried in, murmuring apologies for her lateness, and took a seat between Kausalya and Bharat. Shatrugan was the only one standing, his axe slung at his waist even though it was the middle of the night and he was indoors. Sumitra frowned at him, trying to show her displeasure at his wearing a weapon beneath his father’s roof. He shrugged. 

She sighed and looked around at Kausalya. 

‘Why did the guruji call us here?’ she asked, whispering. 

Kausalya shook her head. ‘I wish I knew. All Sumantra would tell me was that the guru had something important to discuss with us.’ 

Sumitra looked around. Except for the four of them, there was nobody else in the room. The seal room was an administrative chamber; the kingdom’s official seals were stored here. By day, clerks worked at these tables, copying out official writs and proclamations in preparation for the maharaja to apply his official royal seal. Of course, it was usually Pradhan-Mantri Sumantra who did the actual applying, but he consulted with the maharaja. To Sumitra, who had little interest in administrative matters, it was just a large musty room full of big desks covered with scrolls and parchments and writing materials. 

‘Where are they then?’ she asked. ‘Guruji and Sumantra, I mean?’ 

Before Kausalya could answer, the doors swung open again and Guru Vashishta entered, followed by Pradhan-Mantri Sumantra. The guru was clad in his customary white robes, a rudraksh mala around his neck, but was without his trademark staff. Sumitra marvelled at how the guru’s clothes could appear so clean and fresh even at this hour of night; surely he couldn’t have donned fresh clothes just for this meeting? 

Vashishta waited for Sumantra to shut the doors, then he gestured in the air with one hand, reciting a mantra very quickly. Sumitra felt a strange dampening sensation in her ears, as if she had been listening to very loud bells clanging and they had abruptly fallen silent. She saw Shatrugan and Bharat put their fingers in their ears and shake them, as if they felt the exact same sensation. 

‘A masking mantra,’ the guru explained shortly. ‘To keep our words from being overheard.’ 

‘You suspect spies within the palace, gurudev?’ Kausalya sounded shocked. 

Vashishta looked at Kausalya grimly. Even by the light of the mashaals, Sumitra thought she saw new lines of age on the guru’s face. He looked as though he had aged several years since she had seen him last.
But that was just this afternoon, when we bade goodbye to Rama and Lakshman.
The thought of Rama and Lakshman brought a lump to her throat and she tried to keep her mind clear of all thoughts, the better to concentrate on what was being discussed. 

‘Not just spies, First Queen. Traitors too.’ He turned to look at each one of them in turn. 

Sumitra shifted uncomfortably as his hawklike eyes stayed on her a moment. ‘This is why I have called you here tonight. To warn you.’ 

‘Who are these traitors?’ Shatrugan’s voice was soft but his tone was unmistakably angry. ‘Show them to us, guruji. We’ll cut them down like ripe wheat.’ 

The guru nodded kindly at Shatrugan. ‘Your eagerness for action is understandable, Rajkumar Shatrugan. But these traitors cannot be dealt with as easily as you would like.’ 

‘Why not?’ Bharat asked. ‘After all, they’re mortal, aren’t they? We caught and imprisoned thirteen spies in the city dungeon. Why can’t we root out and imprison these ones as well?’ 

Guru Vashishta raised a hand. ‘Patience, good Bharat. Hear me out first. I have just had a very disturbing encounter in that same city dungeon. And that is what prompts my speaking to you at this unearthly hour.’ 

Sumitra noticed Pradhan-Mantri Sumantra shuddering at the guru’s words. ‘What happened in the dungeon, guruji?’ she asked mildly. ‘We have heard all sorts of rumours. Is it true that those prisoners melted into milky fluid and vanished down a crack in the floor?’ 

The guru sighed wearily. ‘Rani Sumitra. The truth might be more than you can stand to hear. Especially at the end of a day fraught with so much stress. I understand that the maharaja has regained consciousness.’ 

‘Yes,’ Kausalya replied. 

‘But he is not yet fully in his senses?’ 

Kausalya paused before replying. ‘He is disturbed. It is probably a result of his deteriorating condition. He has been having strange dreams.’ 

The guru nodded grimly. ‘I will go to him when we are done here. But I wish you all to promise me that not a word of what we speak here will reach his ears.’ 

They all looked at each other uncertainly. 

‘Guruji,’ Bharat asked respectfully. ‘How can we conspire behind my father’s back?’ 

‘Conspire?’ The guru issued a wan smile. ‘This is not conspiracy, young Bharat. Conspiracy is what our enemies are brewing right now, even as we speak. But to set your mind at rest, let me remind you that with your father incapacitated, the onus of the kingdom falls on the shoulders of Pradhan-Mantri Sumantra, First Queen Kausalya-maa, and yourself.’ 

‘Me?’ Bharat looked incredulous. 

‘Yes, Dasaratha-putra. For until your brother Rama returns home safe and sound, you must be regarded as the prince-inwaiting.’ The guru paused. ‘I would not like to explain that part further; I believe you understand it well enough.’ 

‘What did you learn in the dungeon, guruji?’ Kausalya’s voice was quiet but urgent. ‘You learned something from the spies that made you call us together, is it not so? What was it?’ 

Guru Vashishta turned his ancient eyes on the first queen. ‘You are wise beyond your years, Kausalya. The devas have gifted you with an acute analytical mind. Kosala could do worse than to have you reigning as regent after the maharaja passes on.’ 

Kausalya blinked several times, clearly taken aback at this unexpected compliment. ‘I only use common sense, guruji.’ 

‘And you use it wisely.’ The guru became suddenly businesslike. ‘You are quite right. I learned something in the dungeon that alarmed me greatly. I thought I had the measure of the current crisis. I regret to say I had only part measure of the whole situation. The rot that Brahmarishi Vishwamitra and I sensed is riper than we believed. The Demon Lord of Lanka has his claws far deeper in the body of this great Arya nation than either of us thought.’ 

Bharat and Shatrugan exchanged glances. 

Shatrugan shuffled his feet uneasily. ‘Shama, guruji. I don’t understand your meaning.’ 

‘I mean only to say that Ravana’s influence is far greater than any of us suspected. Not only has he planted spies in the royal court, he has gained influence over the throne of Ayodhya itself!’ 

Sumitra rose to her feet, gasping. ‘Impossible! That would mean—’ 

‘That one of the royal family is secretly loyal to Ravana,’ Kausalya said slowly. She reached out and caught Sumitra’s hand, firmly drawing her back to her seat. ‘Can it be true then, guruji? Can such a thing really have happened?’ 

Bharat and Shatrugan looked bewildered and angry, respectively. Shatrugan had kept his hand on the shaft of his axe all through the discussion. Now he lifted it helplessly. 

‘But that would mean … that one of us is a traitor!’ Shatrugan looked around. ‘How can that be possible?’ 

Guru Vashishta spread his hands. ‘And yet it is so. After my encounter in the dungeon, I know this to be true. One of the royal family is a traitor to the Arya nations and a supporter of the king of the asuras, plotting and conspiring to destroy us all and aid Ravana in his scheme to ravage and conquer the mortal world.’ 

Sumitra’s hands flew to her chest. Her heart was thumping so loud, she was certain everyone else could hear it clearly in the dead silence that followed the guru’s words. 

She looked around the room. ‘But how could any of us be—’ She broke off, realisation dawning. 

‘It’s not one of us! None of us would do such a thing. That’s why you called us here tonight, to take us into your confidence and warn us. That means that the traitor must be—’ 

‘Kaikeyi-maa,’ Bharat said. His face was an inscrutable mask. ‘She’s the only one left. And the only one with a motive to conspire against the throne. Because she seeks to overturn Rama’s ascension and make me maharaja after my father’s passing.’ 

He waved a fist in the air. ‘And I would sooner die than see her succeed in her intentions. My mother she is and for that I shall always show her respect. But on this matter I will not support her. Either Rama will become maharaja or Ayodhya will remain kingless. This I swear in the presence of my guru.’ 

Guru Vashishta spoke quietly. ‘Bravely spoken, young Bharat. But you have all jumped too quickly to your conclusions. I fear that the greatest threat to the kingdom and to the mortal world at large shall come not from your mother or any other member of the royal family. The danger shall come from Maharaja Dasaratha himself!’ 

THREE 

Jatayu’s wings had never ached so much. But then, the vulture had never before flown such a great distance without a break. It would demand a feast from the lord of the asuras for flying so long without rest or nourishment. 

The bird descended from the thick moisture-laden clouds, its inbuilt sense of direction and distance telling it that the destination was close by. As the vulture emerged from the bank of dark monsoon clouds into the clear sky above the ocean, it screeched happily. Its instincts had been correct as usual.