Page 14 of The Prince Without Sorrow
Chapter Thirteen
Shakti
I T TOOK S HAKTI AND N AYANI NEARLY THREE DAYS TO arrive at the capital by riverboat. The Samnal River was the major body of water that ran through the continent, used for fast travel by commoner and royal alike. They’d replenished their food when their chartered boat anchored at a stopover town for one night, but Shakti’s stomach was still rumbling when it made a final stop on the docks outside the walls of the Golden City.
Shakti had never seen the capital, only heard of it. It lay sandwiched between two mountains inland, with the west looking out over the Odhi Ocean that the Samnal River eventually emptied into. The northern mountain was where the royal palace was built, with the infamous Mountain of Rebirth lying on the southernmost point.
Dead centre of the city was said to be the Imperial Gardens, commissioned by the first Maurya emperor, Ashoka. Thought to be the first and last of his name until the young Prince Ashoka was born to Emperor Adil, he’d ordered a breath-taking natural wonderland to be built in homage to the mayakari and Great Spirits.
In this day and age, Shakti was surprised to hear that it was still standing.
The descriptions she had heard of the Golden City didn’t do it justice though. Once they left the busy docks and entered through the southern wall, she didn’t expect such a hubbub of bright colours and deafening noises. People hustled about, bartering at markets, putting on stage displays for children or carting stock from vendor to vendor. As they passed by a merchant selling skewered roasted chicken coated in a mixture of spices, Shakti’s stomach rumbled again.
As if she had heard her thoughts, Nayani – who was leading them decisively through the crowded streets – turned her head. ‘We have no time to stop, Shakti,’ she said. ‘You can eat later.’
The two passed through winding alleyways, superbly tiled buildings with glass domes and intricate mosaics, bridges built from dark brown Na wood that crossed over small riverways, and a menagerie of shops selling everything from soft gold to counterfeit pearls. Almost every nook and cranny was covered with white cloth of various makes: cotton, canvas, silk, linen, and cashmere. Remnants of a grand funeral, Shakti realized, likely for the emperor. In the huge maze that was the Golden City, she felt very small indeed.
In the distance, she could easily spot the blinding white palace that sat atop the mountain. A straight stone-paved road cut through the centre of the city up to the royal palace. Nayani had said that between the mountain base and the palace were three thousand steps and a separate upward sloping road paved with granite. Those who made the journey by foot tended to take the former method of transportation, while carts and horses took the latter route.
Shakti scowled as they passed by a mural of Emperor Adil that had been painted in chalk along the outer walls of a house. Flowers and tealight candles were laid in front of it. Someone had written along the wall in hasty script: G LORIOUS EMPEROR FELLED BY MAGIC; YOUR DEATH WILL NOT BE IN VAIN .
‘The emperor dies and it’s a tragedy,’ Shakti said, glowering, ‘while our people die and we’re nothing but a statistic. A plague.’
Leaning close to her, Nayani pinched her arm. ‘We’re not just a plague now,’ she whispered. ‘Did you not see the signs in front of the eateries; do you not hear the whispers? The people know that he died by mayakari magic. We’re the enemy.’
Shakti felt sick. Word truly travelled like wildfire.
There were already no favourable impressions of mayakari here, and the knowledge that the emperor died from magic meant that the rage against them would only intensify. This was all her fault. Vengeance praised her but recklessness punished her.
As they passed through the streets, Shakti made note of various prints plastered on walls and windows. They were very similar in their makeup. All had a woman – either young or old – painted with bug-like eyes framed by delicate lashes, burgundy lips, and ridiculously long painted nails. Spirits and grey shadows hovered around them. The drawings were made to look beautiful but dangerous, interesting but unsettling. These women’s mouths were usually open wide, curlicue letters in a free space stating: A CURSE ON YOU! A CURSE ON THOSE YOU LOVE! Others had similar instructions or threats: M Y SPIRITS ARE MY ARMY , or N ONE CAN HELP YOU WITH A MAYAKARI LOOSE – REPORT SIGHTINGS TO THE RELEVANT AUTHORITIES IMMEDIATELY.
Report sightings. Hah. There was only one way that a mayakari could be identified without being burn-tested, and that was if they were to use any of their abilities openly. No mayakari in the Golden City, or even the empire, would be foolish enough to take such a risk. Though, she supposed, there were more incidental ways of being discovered. Minor spirits, for one, had the tendency to gravitate to or seek out mayakari and follow them around. There was never any malicious intent behind their actions, only innocent and simple ones. Sometimes, the little spirits simply wanted to chatter. Then, there were the baseless accusations. Anyone could just accuse, and the suspect be burn-tested for grievously petty reasons. She wondered how many human women wandered the streets with burns that never recovered.
It took perhaps another hour of walking until Nayani stopped in front of a small, nondescript brick house in a modest residential area. Two stone animals stood at either side of the doorway: a winged serpent and a leopard, their faces worn from weather and age.
Nayani rapped sharply on the door, stepping back to whisper in Shakti’s ear, ‘Follow along, all right?’
As Shakti nodded, the wooden door swung open to reveal a middle-aged woman dressed in a forest-green sari. Her curly hair was piled neatly on top of her head and her face was bare. She looked to be around her aunt’s age. Shakti noted with a lurch that the woman also wore a nula around her wrist– a white thread to commemorate an almsgiving.
The woman’s eyes narrowed in confusion as her eyes first sought Shakti’s before widening in recognition when she saw Nayani.
Nayani’s face was a picture of relief and nervousness as she smiled at the woman. ‘Ruchira,’ she greeted. ‘It has been a long time.’
‘ Nayani? ’ Ruchira’s tone was one of pure disbelief. ‘What on earth are you doing in the city? Come in, come in – both of you.’ She ushered them inside, patting their shoulders as they passed, giving Nayani an additional smack on the back of her neck as she did so.
The smell of burning incense assaulted Shakti’s senses the moment she stepped into the room. Her mind harkened back to its scent smothering the temples, mingling with the sweetness of decorative flowers. She coughed, trying to dispel the sudden burning sensation in her throat.
‘My apologies,’ Ruchira said. ‘Admittedly, I have burned more incense than I had planned to.’
Shakti waved away Ruchira’s apology. ‘That’s all right,’ she said. ‘Sorry to disturb you. My name is Shakti. I am a friend of Nayani’s, from Kolakola.’
‘Ruchira is one of the palace cooks,’ Nayani informed Shakti. ‘She makes an excellent curried carp.’
‘Ah.’ Ruchira observed her for a moment. ‘A mayakari as well, I gather?’
‘I—’ Startled by the woman’s frankness, Shakti could only nod, shooting Nayani a furtive glance.
‘Ruchira is a friend of my mother’s,’ Nayani replied. ‘She knows what I am. Don’t worry.’
‘Oh yes, I’m no accuser, but I must ask what the two of you are doing here?’ Ruchira asked. ‘The capital of all places – tensions are high enough as is after the emperor’s death.’
‘Shakti and I fled Kolakola after Emperor Adil murdered our families and burned the town to the ground,’ Nayani replied, glowering.
Ruchira appeared taken aback. ‘You were in Kolakola? Last I heard from your mother, she told me that you were in Taksila,’ she remarked before her expression turned into an apologetic one. ‘About Dharvi, my dear, I’m so s—’
‘Please don’t,’ Nayani interrupted flatly. ‘My mother will have a good rebirth – that is the only thing that pacifies me, though I cannot say the same for Emperor Adil. Thank the spirits he is dead.’
Ruchira’s eyes widened. ‘Not here!’ she hissed, her eyes flashing towards the half-open windows. ‘Never speak ill of the emperor here.’
‘It is no lie,’ Nayani muttered, more quietly this time. ‘Is that who you are burning incense for, Ruchira? For that depraved killer?’
Ruchira lowered her eyes. ‘For him, but also for those who had their lives taken there. Innocent women never deserve death, but Emperor Adil was still the nation’s monarch. You know, his funeral procession passed by a few days ago. The royal court made it known to the public that the mayakari were to be blamed, and the rage that followed was... terrifying. A great many women were burn-tested without tangible evidence. Accusations were flying left and right, as if finding and burning more mayakari would avenge the emperor’s death. If a mayakari was living here before, they have to take great care in not rousing suspicion for themselves . ’
‘Greater,’ Shakti corrected. When Ruchira glanced at her in confusion, she added, ‘they have to take greater care than before.’
A sad smile flitted across the cook’s face. ‘And who did you lose, my dear?’ she asked quietly.
‘My aunt,’ Shakti replied.
‘Listen, Ruchira, I came to ask a favour of you,’ Nayani said carefully. ‘Something I hear you’ve done before.’
Ruchira stared at her for a moment. ‘Anything within reason, I can do.’
Seemingly satisfied by her answer, Nayani grinned. ‘Good,’ she said and nudged Shakti forward. ‘Are you able to find my friend Shakti a job in the palace? Perhaps as a kitchenhand, or a maidservant? She has no place to go, and no way to earn a living wage.’
The true purpose of her employment would remain a secret between them. No one else needed to know. Shakti couldn’t risk a slip of the tongue turning into a rumour that would cost her life.
At first, Ruchira said nothing. Then, she carefully made her way towards the half-open windows and shut them. Once the latch was fastened, she turned to them with an incredulous stare.
‘There’s already one mayakari in the palace,’ she said. ‘It’d be a risk making it two.’
Shakti perked her head up in interest. Another mayakari? ‘Then why work there at all?’
‘Because it’d be the last place Emperor Adil would think to look,’ Ruchira replied. ‘What kind of mayakari would actively put herself in such danger? And imagine having to burn-test half the palace staff – no woman would work there if they did.’
Shakti put on her best doe-eyed, pleading expression and aimed it at Ruchira. ‘Then please help me, Ruchira. I have nowhere else to go.’
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Ruchira sighed. ‘At least Harini will have a friend...’ she heard her mutter. That must be the other mayakari. ‘Are you skilled in any particular field, Shakti?’
Archery , Shakti thought wryly. Combat. Instead, she informed an expectant Ruchira of her middling sewing, cleaning, and animal-rearing skills. She figured that the palace would have its fair share of creatures bred for battle, and being around them rather than people would allow for a welcome reprieve.
‘You may be able to find work in the stables,’ Ruchira sounded satisfied with her answers. ‘Not many people enjoy being in the vicinity of leopards and winged serpents.’
‘It’s settled, then,’ Nayani said as she shot Shakti a knowing look. ‘I will take my leave.’
Shakti frowned. ‘So soon?’ she asked her.
Ruchira reached out a hand to cup Nayani’s chin. ‘If you ever need a haven, remember that you have one here,’ she said quietly. The gesture reminded Shakti of Jaya. Everything loving and motherly did.
A small smile found its way across Nayani’s lips as she stepped back.
‘Your kindness is much appreciated,’ she told Ruchira before heading for the door. ‘My part is done, Shakti. I hope you... find what you need.’
‘Wait!’ Shakti exclaimed. ‘Nayani, please. You should rest before you leave.’
Nayani turned. Dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘I won’t stay the night in this hateful city,’ she said, her voice sad and urgent. ‘I’m returning to Taksila.’
The resistance. ‘Be safe,’ Shakti replied. ‘You’re risking your life there.’
Nayani’s response was brief. ‘Coming from you who risked and continues to risk her life? That’s rich.’
‘You could die,’ Shakti hissed.
‘Perhaps,’ Nayani replied, after a minute pause. ‘Maybe then I might be reborn as a human, and there will be no need to fear for my life.’
‘How depressing,’ Shakti said.
Nayani’s laugh was melancholy, tinged with blues and greys. ‘Oh, I can’t believe I almost forgot,’ she said with a snap of her fingers. Reaching into her knapsack, she began to sift through it. ‘I thought I packed it – here.’
Shakti’s vision tunnelled as Nayani fished out an achingly familiar emerald attached to a thin gold chain. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t think . For a second, she thought she was hallucinating.
‘Is that...’ she choked on the last few words, unable to get them out. Nayani’s answering smile was as sepulchral as they came.
‘It is,’ she confirmed, grabbing Shakti’s hands and tilting her palm upwards before dropping the chain onto it. ‘I returned to the village before I found you. It... it was a mass grave, but I found –’ Nayani’s breath hitched, ‘– my mother. Your aunt. The necklace was still attached. The chain is bent, but the emerald is unbroken. I... I’m sorry for removing it but I thought there was a chance that you may have survived.’
Shakti just stared at her.
‘Shakti?’ The mayakari waved her hands in front of her face. ‘I haven’t broken you, have I?’
‘No,’ Shakti said hoarsely before she launched herself at Nayani, embracing her in an iron grip. ‘Thank you.’
Nayani patted Shakti’s hair affectionately. The tears came hot and fast, and before Shakti knew it, her whole face was drenched, her lips tasting the salt of her tears. Letting go of Nayani, Shakti gazed down at the emerald nestled in her palm, felt the weight of her aunt’s death in the stone’s lustre, and shuddered at the thought of it having touched her burned, crisped skin.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
Nayani only grimaced. ‘You should have something to remember her by,’ she said before gesturing towards the door. ‘I must go now.’
‘Nayani,’ Shakti said again. She was starting to feel a storm of butterflies brewing in the pit of her stomach at the thought of Nayani leaving her to her own devices. ‘Write to me if you can, please. And promise me that you will stay safe.’
Nayani smiled. ‘I will,’ she agreed, ‘write to me too.’
With a final wave, she turned to leave Shakti alone in a foreign city, with only her dreams of retribution and the voice of Emperor Adil in her head for company.