Page 19 of The Legend of Meneka
My way back to the hermitage is a haze. I rub my skin to warm it, and some of my concentration returns—enough to wonder at what I heard. What is this promise Kaushika made? What did the guru mean when he said Kaushika was caught by his past? Does Kaushika have enemies among the other sages, ones who support Vashishta more? It would not be odd—sages frequently argue about the best way to reach enlightenment, their rival powers a source of conflict among their own kind. Is that something I can use? What is the meadow, and why is it a crime against nature? Does it have anything to do with Indra?
The questions tumble within me, one sparking into another, fleeting embers I cannot catch. I frantically sieve everything I’ve learned, looking for answers, yet in the end all the questions distill into those from the very beginning, dictating my purpose here, my mission.
What is the shape of Kaushika’s seduction?
And how do I get past his shield?
BY THE TIMEIAM BACK AT THE HERMITAGE,IAM WARMERthrough sheer adrenaline, and I have a plan. There is no one about when I arrive, not even any late-night lingering students. Sleep has overtaken the hermitage, and except for the candlelight by Shiva’s altar within the pavilion, all the buildings lie in darkness.
I hesitate only for an instant. Kaushika has warded his house, but this could be my only chance. I open the door and dart inside, aware that I am tripping the ward.
There are others in the hermitage who have their own homes, Romasha and Anirudh, Parasara, and Eka, and even Durvishi, who arrived not too long before I did. All of them have demonstratedexcellence in their practice. I have not been in any of their houses, yet I imagine they all look similar on the inside.
The cottage is a single room with a wooden partition that leads to a veranda outside. Night birds twitter in and out of the rafters, and a dry breeze whooshes through cracks in the windows. I dare not light a candle, but I don’t need to; there is enough starlight gleaming in to illuminate a cot in the center of the room with a threadbare blanket.
I arch an eyebrow at that. So. The great Sage Kaushika allows himself the comforts of a cot and a blanket, whereas new initiates such as myself must sleep on plain straw. How unsurprising. It is his due, certainly, but it irks me nonetheless. The last few nights have been especially brutal. I have woken with aches in my body, muscles I did not know I had hurting when I move. Only the stretches from my apsara practices have helped remind me that I am, in fact, an immortal.
My eyes wander to the floor, where a dozen books and scrolls lie piled one on top of another near a seating cushion. I approach them and flip through. A few of them are records of yogic poses, depicting the flow of prana. Obscure, half-known mantras cover the rest of them, verses that Kaushika is clearly researching. Petitions from royals flutter in the light breeze, caught between some of the pages. I recognize the names of a few kings and queens heaven has been interested in.
In one of the tomes, something catches my eye, slipped carefully underneath the wooden binding. A piece of yellowed paper, folded and folded again, so small that it is only as large as my thumbnail. Curious, I open it to reveal a faded letter. The calligraphy is too worn. I cannot read the whole of it, though some words jump out at me,soulandrebirthandpunishment.I cannot help but feel that this letter and its contents are relevant to my mission somehow.
From the looks of it, it is several years old. Threads of the parchmentcome apart between my fingers, though my touch is gentle. I imagine Kaushika smoothening this paper out, staring at it, rereading the words he has probably memorized. I imagine his long fingers making the same movements mine are. Who wrote this? What does it say? Why has he preserved it here at the hermitage when he wishes for all of us to forget our pasts? Or is this simply another hypocrisy—like the cot he has allowed himself, which oddly looks so tempting at this very moment?
An owl hoots outside the hut, and I jump. Carefully, I fold the letter back and push it between the bindings of the book. I have been here long enough. I approach the door, attempting to leave, but even as I put a foot over the threshold, a vibration goes through me, stopping me. It is as though something is forcing me back, refusing to let me through.
Frowning, I try again, yet the energy persists, preventing me from leaving.
I have no time to puzzle it out. I hear voices approaching, and I retreat to the closest corner. I clutch Amaravati’s tether to me, and my fingers move in a quick mudra, Surya’s Eclipse. The illusion forms over me, rendering me invisible, so that when I move my own hand, I see nothing but the thatched wall of the hut. I press my lips together and ensconce myself in stillness.
Two shapes arrive at the threshold. I can tell they both came from different parts of the hermitage, for Romasha whispers, “You heard it too?” Light flickers in her hands, the very same ball of fire I’ve seen her wield before.
Anirudh does not reply, but he holds a similar ball of flames, his appearing like waves of dark lava. Both of them enter Kaushika’s hut, holding their lights up. A sound skitters across the floor, and Romasha starts, almost unleashing her fire at it, but stops when she notices it is only a squirrel.
I squeeze myself back against the wall, knowing I am invisible to them yet breathing hard. I triggered the warding deliberately, to see who would come to Kaushika’s hut in his absence. That it is these two should not surprise me; after Kaushika, they are the most learned and powerful in the hermitage, conducting lessons between them. Yet my heart sinks as I see Anirudh prowl through the cottage and check inside the cupboard and under the cot. Romasha I do not know well, but Anirudh has always been kind to me. He has been friendly.
The two of them meet in the center of the hut, looking around. Romasha’s shoulders relax. She extinguishes the fire between her fingers and slumps a little.
“Do you think Kaushika made a mistake?” she asks.
“He doesn’t make such mistakes,” Anirudh replies, frowning. He has still not relinquished his fire.
“Maybe someone came looking for him but didn’t enter his home at all,” Romasha suggests.
Anirudh nods slowly. “Yes. Yes, of course. If anyone had entered, the ward would trap them, wouldn’t it? We would see them. Perhaps they only triggered it unknowingly.”
His body relaxes as he accepts this explanation. The fire he conjures finally fizzles out, and all of us are awash in darkness. My heart thumps in my chest, loud enough that I fear they will be able to hear it if they only attune themselves. A dozen thoughts churn within me. Whatever Kaushika is planning, these two must be in on it as well. He deliberately warded his house—perhaps it is common practice, something he does before he leaves each time—yet I saw nothing in here worth hiding or taking. It means the warding itself was meant as a trap to ferret out our true intentions, like the one in the forest that I walked into. Both Anirudh and Romasha came in expectingintruders, and more than that, to mete out punishment with fire. If I hadn’t concealed myself, what would have happened? Are they capable of killing too? Isthishow my sisters died?
I try to still the gibbering of my mind.
When the two leave, I slip out behind them, unnoticed.
CHAPTER 8
Ihave no chance to question Romasha, whom I barely see outside of my lessons, and whom I don’t know well enough. I cannot be obvious with Anirudh, whom Idosee all the time and have come to know, because how would I truly begin? I cannot simply spring it in conversation, asking them to divulge the secrets they are undoubtedly keeping for Kaushika. The sage himself does not return to the hermitage, and I feel his absence like a hole carved into my side. My eyes search for him constantly, at the morning practice, at my lessons, even drifting again to his cottage where no candles glimmer in the night.
The conversation I overheard at the lake plays in my mind over and over again. I reassemble the picture of Kaushika incessantly while the Initiation Ceremony looms closer. A part of me blubbers in anxiety at how I am making no progress in my mission nor in the mortal magic I pretend to do. Week after week passes, and everyone but me already knows what they will demonstrate for Kaushika during the test.
Kalyani delves into her breath for physical strength and speed. From one blink to another, she can now circle twice around the hermitage. Anirudh’s own skill is even more impressive. When I drop a book, he raises my arm to pick it up. That he can use his magic to influence other people’s limbs … Even Indra cannot do so—only influence through his potency.
