Page 13 of The Legend of Meneka
I have had enough time to think about it since Kalyani’s inquiry earlier. Of all mortal magics, the creation of runes is most similar to the dance mudras of the apsaras. I even learned the shapes of some of them from one of my marks, a kshatriya warrior called Nirjar.
His tattooed face is burned in my mind, his thick fingers and their brutal strength, and the magic in them that Indra feared. His broad and muscled body was covered with runes that gave him speed, daring, and ferocity. Yet despite his ominous appearance, Nirjar was one of my more likeable marks, gentle in his practice, careful in his words. Indestructible because of his runes, his very existence was a threat to swarga. What purpose did heaven have if Nirjar sought to make an imperishable body? Only souls were supposed to be immortal, moving through heaven or hell in the cycle of karma until it was time to be reborn again. Indra’s sacred duty compelled him to thwart Nirjar, and I was sent to accomplish this task.
I can still see the way Nirjar grasped his blades and scraped at his skin, flaying himself. Unlike the illusions I made for so many of myother marks, the ones I created for him were not sexual at all. I simply showed him a life with me, children, and future happiness. His blood ran from his face, lost in this simple vision, and I returned from the mortal realm sickened with myself. Yet the lord was so ecstatic, he rewarded not just me but Rambha, too, with jewels.
I shake myself out of the memory, focusing back on Kaushika’s camp. When Nirjar created runes, the very air would crackle with energy and form a fiery shape floating before him. Tentatively, I use my finger to draw the rune for a breeze into the space in front of me—but of course nothing happens.
Anirudh tuts. “That’s an easy rune. Try again.” He holds my hand, correcting my calligraphy, helping me form the precise strokes.
We continue for what seems like hours. It becomes increasingly clear that though I am mastering the shape, I can produce no magic. Next to us, Kalyani practices her own forms, focusing on her breath as she moves through yogic poses, but from the glances she throws toward me, I know I am shocking her with my incompetence. Anirudh grows frustrated, muttering about how he has never seen such a block to magic.
“Have youevershaped any rune into manifestation?” he asks, exasperated.
I shake my head. Of course not. That is not the form my magic takes.
Anirudh bites the inside of his cheek. “Kaushika let you in. Even I can tell you have magic. But for not even a spark to appear, even though you have a lineage in it …”
His face grows anxious. I am about to ask what will happen if I don’t succeed when our conversation is interrupted.
“I think you need to start much easier with her,” a voice drawls.
Suddenly I am aware that the entire courtyard has fallen silent. Camphor and rosewood swirl around me as Kaushika moves fromwithin the crowd, approaching me like a panther. Disciples separate, making way for him.I watch him approach, and a blaze of fury sharpens in my chest at the arrogant way he walks, the ownership he thinks he has over me simply because I am here, pretending to be his student.
“Runes come after,” Kaushika says, his eyes never leaving mine. “Meneka cannot even access her own power yet.”
Understanding flickers in Anirudh’s eyes. He steps aside and Kaushika takes his place, inches from me. If I raised my hand to make another rune, I would touch him. My world narrows into only him, the danger of him, the relaxed stillness of his body.
Kaushika crosses his arms over his chest. “Close your eyes. Look inside your heart. What do you see?”
Aware with every fragment of my body that he has killed apsaras, I reluctantly obey him. “I see nothing,” I mutter. “Merely feel the movement of my breath.”
A grunt from him. “Well, there’s that at least. Your breath is a sheath moving through your physical body. Within it lies a measure of prana moving through the nadi channels of your subtle body. That prana is your magic. You need to connect with it.”
It is absurd that he should explain what prana is to me, when I am a celestial. Prana is so much more than merelymymagic. It is the magic of the universe, linking and permeating all living and nonliving things. As a celestial, the universe’s prana flows to me through Amaravati from Indra. The lord of heavenmanipulatesprana through his divinity to nurture the City of Immortals. Kaushika practices prana magic, the same as Indra, yet he challenges the lord, he who is so skilled in it that he sustains heaven and earth.
I scowl at this incongruity. “How do I connect with my prana?”
“Thereisno ‘how,’” Kaushika replies. “There justis.You need to learn of yourself. Magic is a conversation with yourself. You needto take some responsibility for your own learning. Did you expect you would simply come here and I would bestow knowledge upon you?”
My scowl deepens at his condescending words. He dares to lecture me on responsibility? This man who challenges the devas in his callousness?
It is so egotistical that I open my eyes and study him, the brooding outlines of his mouth, the sharp intensity of his gaze. A sense of self-righteous recklessness surges in me. I have not dared it thus far, unknowing of the extent of his perception regarding my identity, but I cannot help myself.Reveal your lust, I murmur in my mind.
I expect an image to blossom. Kaushika seeking power over all these people he has gathered. Kaushika seeking to unravel the powers of the universe. Kaushika giving me a glimpse into his past.
Yet my whisper slams against a powerful oblivion. Shocked, my mouth falls open.
A blank wall mocks me, as though he has no desire whatsoever. The feeling is so unnatural, so alien, soprofaneto the vitality I live in as an apsara, that I stagger back, my eyes widening.
I stare at him, not understanding at first—then comprehension floods me. It is not lack of desire that creates a block to Kaushika’s lust. He hasshieldedhimself deliberately so I cannot look in.
Is this because of the other apsaras? Did he build this shield after experiencing them? Or does he knowIam an apsara? If he knows, surely he would have killed me already. My chest rises and falls as I continue to stare at him. My bottom lip catches between my teeth in worry. Kaushika’s eyes track the movement and his own frown deepens. I rally myself, aware we are being watched.
“Maybe,” I say softly, “I can learn what I’m capable of based on whatyoucan do?”
His gaze grows wary at my change in tone. “What do you mean?”
“You said magic is a conversation with myself. You could show me how you do that. What doyoudo when you are most truthful with yourself?”
