Page 38 of The Prince Without Sorrow

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Ashoka

T HE MORNING AFTER HIS GRUESOME DISCOVERY, A SHOKA had flown to the resistance stronghold and brought back Nayani and Naila with him.

The mayakari had been surprised to see him barge into the cave without notice, with some grabbing nearby pots and vases as weapons when he ran in. But in that moment, Ashoka had no care for his safety. All that ran through his head was the stray letter he and Naila had read, and the ever-growing inkling of whose bones were buried in the gardens:

The witch deserves burial, not fire.

Her treasures will be mine to keep.

The witch deserves burial, not fire...

Usra . Though he had no concrete evidence, intuition bore the full brunt of his reasoning. Sometimes, intuition had to be enough.

Nayani had listened in disbelief, appearing only half-convinced. He understood her perspective, knew what she feared. Though his theory could very well be true, and it really could be Usra’s body that had been buried, there was also the chance that it wasn’t her. That it was simply another mayakari who had succumbed to such a cruel form of death. It was why Nayani had been hesitant to send out a group of them to investigate. Instead, she had only volunteered herself and Naila for the job.

‘I will not take too great a risk, Prince Ashoka,’ she’d told him. ‘I have hope, but too much of it is dangerous.’

Naila’s skin was tinged with green when she slid from Sahry’s back once they landed on the estate grounds but appeared otherwise unharmed. Nayani showed no signs of weariness.

‘Beautiful animals, these serpents,’ Naila coughed, ‘but suffice to say I will not travel on one again.’

Despite the gravity of the situation, Ashoka smiled. ‘They are not for everyone,’ he agreed.

Once he made sure that Sahry was safely enclosed in her pen, he took the two mayakari to the ravaged garden. Gold flowers were ripped and scattered across the ground, soil was upended and covered the grass in large mounds. In the centre, exactly where he had ordered them to be left, were the bones.

Well, not just bones. Digging out the complete skeleton had unearthed something entirely impossible, but when it came to the mayakari, impossibilities were to be expected.

Attached to the bones were dark strips of muscle, yellowed knee-bone cartilage, still-white teeth and strands of black hair. The moment the body had been pulled out, it underwent further change. Sprouts with pale blue buds grew out from the ribcage and half-decomposed skin, a pretty garden grown out of a horrendous bed.

Every time Ashoka looked at the body, his stomach rolled. It was so grotesque. It had been several years since the burial; all the flesh should have decomposed but parts still remained. Magic was at play here.

‘Spirits.’ Nayani appeared appalled as they came closer to inspect it. ‘This is... you think that this is her? How did you know to dig this up, Prince Ashoka?’

‘I didn’t,’ he replied. ‘There is a minor spirit who resides here. It approached me twice and forced me to feel such disturbing sensations that I thought it was recalling the way in which the mayakari had had their treasures removed.’

‘Treasures?’ Naila asked.

Ashoka flinched. He shouldn’t have said that, but the damage was done. ‘These flowers were made from melted gold that belonged to the murdered mayakari of Taksila. My father had it... commissioned.’

The two witches went still at his words.

‘ Commissioned ,’ Nayani spat. Her hands curled into fists. ‘Their treasures were not an exhibition piece!’

‘They were to him,’ Naila murmured.

Nayani swore out loud. ‘He buried her alive , that monster. He deserved to die the way he did,’ she said. Each word out of her mouth was more bitter than the last. When she turned to look at him, Ashoka was perturbed to see the sheer loathing on her face. ‘And you,’ she said bitterly, ‘are the monster’s son.’

‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘but that does not mean I am one.’

‘Your father burned my hometown,’ Nayani snarled, all composure lost. Tears glistened in her eyes. ‘Emperor Adil took my mother from me.’ He could hear it in her tone; though her words blamed his father, there was still distrust aimed at him.

Ashoka snapped.

‘Do not accuse me as if I am my father!’ he roared. He was oil to a flame; a reaction that was fundamentally more his father than himself. It was maddening to realize that he’d reacted this way but patience, it seemed, was elusive.

Before he could discover the effects of overt, sustained fury, Ashoka forced it down. The crocodile that slowly rose to the surface stopped, frustrated by the lack of a kill, desiring nothing more than to taste a bloody confection.

‘This is no time to indict me for my father’s crimes,’ he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘Rather, how about we bring justice to one of his victims instead?’

‘Gladly.’ Nayani palmed her face with a sigh and stepped towards the grave.

Glancing at the ground for a moment, Ashoka tried to alleviate the tension by changing the subject. ‘Shakti once told me that mayakari don’t know what they’re bringing back,’ he remarked. ‘Not a soul but not nothing.’ Soul was not a concept that was accepted in the Ran Empire any more. It hadn’t been for thousands of years.

Thankfully, Nayani seemed to accept his attempt at a white flag. ‘She’s right,’ she replied. ‘We prefer to call it a “not-self” . Anatta. Even then, the concept is hard to rationalize. Have you heard of the flame analogy, then?’

Ashoka nodded. He was familiar with the idea that all beings were akin to a flame on a dying candle. Just before it flickered and died, leaving nothing but the heavy smell of smoke lingering in the air, the flame was saved by transferring it onto a new, untouched candle. And so, the flame continued to live its short and bitter life until it descended onto the cusp of death and the process began anew.

‘The flame that died is not the same one that burns anew on the next wick,’ Nayani said. ‘We can bring back what once was, but it will not be the same. Not quite. Nothing is static, after all. The world is ever-changing. To be honest, we don’t know what it is we’re bringing back. It was never fully understood.’

‘Why not?’ he asked.

‘Surely you would know,’ she replied. ‘Your father was the culprit. He burned down the library where mayakari philosophers conducted their studies.’

‘You know, I was always under the impression that it was the human philosophers of old that coined such thought until I learned otherwise,’ he admitted sheepishly, but Nayani showed him no malice.

‘The mayakari were scholars, Prince Ashoka,’ she said. ‘They understood the world before those without abilities ever did. They used their powers to expand the boundaries of knowledge, and the common people accepted it. Did you know that there was also a library in the north?’

He nodded. The Taksilan library, home to manuscript upon manuscript about magic, spirits, advancements in medicine and architecture. Everything that his world was built upon, again burned away into ashes under his father’s command.

No more senseless destruction.

‘Please,’ he gestured towards the grave, ‘begin when you are ready.’

Raising the dead was a dreary business.

Ashoka had never seen the process undertaken in front of his own eyes. Some part of him had always wondered how it was done. From what he’d read, it sounded unsettling, but interest buried the apprehension.

He stood outside the perimeter of the patch with his guards who watched as horrified but interested observers. It was Nayani and Naila who stood at opposite ends of the skeleton with their eyes closed, hands by their sides.

Tipping their palms upward, the two mayakari began to chant in a language that was indecipherable. Listening to it, Ashoka felt the strangest sensation. His spine prickled, causing him to shiver in discomfort. It felt unnatural, but then again, raising the dead was an unnatural business.

As Nayani and Naila continued to chant, the half-decayed skeleton rose into the air with all the lightness of a feather. Bits of grass and soil came with it, while slivers of muscle dropped to the ground in tiny strips. He found it macabre, by any definition, and it looked as if his guards felt the same.

‘Speak,’ Nayani’s voice had suddenly become hoarse as she switched to their native tongue. ‘The one who has cursed the land – speak.’

The skeleton said nothing.

‘Usra,’ he heard Nayani say again, louder this time. ‘Curse-maker. Raise your hand.’

For an agonizingly long time, the body did not respond, and he thought it would not work. Ashoka was ready to kick himself for his failure when, suddenly, the skeleton raised one hand.

It was her.

‘Spirits,’ his voice came out strangled. Despite himself, his feet wandered of their own accord towards the body, ignoring the yells behind him. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Nayani continued her line of questioning. ‘What did you curse?’ Ashoka heard her voice rise an octave.

Again, there was no response, but the arm that was raised stayed up. Clearly frustrated, Naila turned her head towards him. ‘She is unwilling.’

Ashoka grimaced. ‘How long will she be silent?’

‘We don’t know. She isn’t very responsive,’ Nayani added. She appeared to be more composed. ‘Odd. We are told that the dead are not usually cryptic.’

‘What are they usually?’ he asked her. His knowledge of the dialect of the dead was slim to non-existent.

‘Blunt,’ she answered. ‘Emotion overpowers them when they’re brought back to life, so they’ll say anything. This one, strangely enough, won’t .’

Emotion . Maybe they were leading with the wrong statements. Cupping his hands around his mouth, Ashoka raised his voice so that it was loud enough to carry towards Nayani. ‘Usra, you were killed by Emperor Adil.’

The response was instantaneous. The bones shifted. They clattered together like a jar of teeth. Usra’s mandible dislocated from its hinge. And then, suddenly, a low, disembodied voice boomed around them:

‘ Murderer .’

There it was. ‘I thought that my father’s name might overpower her emotions enough,’ he called out.

‘Good thinking,’ Nayani replied, albeit begrudgingly, before shouting, ‘Usra, Emperor Adil killed you, and you retaliated, didn’t you?’

‘ Yes ,’ said the mayakari, her voice ascending to a dull screech. ‘ Yes. Yes! ’

This was good. Now, they had to keep Usra talking. ‘Did you curse the Great Spirits, Usra?’ he asked her.

‘Yes. No. ’

Strange. Ashoka shot Nayani a perplexed glance, and the mayakari took it as a hint to continue their line of questioning. ‘Did you curse the emperor?’

‘ Yes. No. ’

‘These aren’t answers,’ Naila exclaimed. She sounded like she was struggling. ‘Get her to answer, quickly! I can’t keep this up much longer.’

Quick . Ashoka scrambled his brain for something, anything, to make Usra speak in a manner that was not so cryptic. ‘Tell me your curse, Usra?’

She responded immediately in a language that Ashoka did not understand. All he knew was that it was not the soft, melodic tongue of the nature spirits,

He saw Nayani’s face go slack, and an anguished yell escape Naila’s lips. Ashoka watched in horror as Naila’s raised hands dropped, causing the skeleton to follow. Whatever bones had been joined separated with dull cracks.

Immediately, Ashoka made his way to the fatigued-looking mayakari. Naila’s clammy hands gripped onto his tightly as she sat herself down, breath heavy. Meanwhile, Nayani waved away any attempts to calm her down.

‘She was confused at first,’ she said after a long while. Her breaths were still irregular. ‘And then she became angry. When she heard Adil’s name... it was like a spark turning into a wildfire.’

‘Understandable,’ murmured Ashoka. ‘Before the body collapsed... what did she say?’

He saw the witches exchange an indecipherable look. ‘It was her curse, wasn’t it?’

‘Correct,’ Nayani said. Biting her lip, she stretched out her hand to lightly touch one of Usra’s bones. ‘ As the emperor stands true, none will stand with him. As the emperor stands true, you will lie with him. That was what she said.’

Ashoka frowned. ‘Are curses usually so riddlelike?’

‘The curses aren’t supposed to be specific,’ said Nayani quietly. ‘Otherwise, they will not work. Such is their nature. Here, though, it is comprehensible enough.’

Murmurs erupted from the soldiers behind him, but Ashoka paid them no mind. His mind raced, repeating Usra’s last words:

As the emperor stands true, none will stand with him. As the emperor stands true, you will lie with him.

But his father was dead. The answer continued to evade him, and he felt foolish for it.

Where does my father stand , Ashoka wondered. Nowhere, except—

Lightning struck. A lotus bloomed from muddy water. The dead awoke. Understanding came as fast as his father’s taunts.

‘The statue,’ he whispered, dumbstruck. ‘The only emperor that stands true is his statue , isn’t it?’

‘Not once have the Great Spirits destroyed that abomination,’ Naila replied. Sorrow tinged every word. ‘We didn’t know why, but it makes sense now. Why else would they circle that statue every night? Why else would they sing their sad songs and destroy what has already been destroyed?’

You will lie with him.

Impossible. Unbelievable, but...

‘Usra trapped a Great Spirit into that statue, didn’t she?’ Ashoka asked. The crestfallen looks of the two mayakari were all he needed for confirmation. Spirits . ‘That is...’

‘No,’ Nayani interrupted him, standing up. ‘She was buried alive , Prince Ashoka. We will withhold judgement for now.’

Thinking of the trapped spirit, Ashoka found it hard to agree, but then berated himself. Who was he to cast judgement? It was not him who had been buried. It was not him who had to breathe dirt into his lungs. It was not him who had reacted out of fear, or anger, or both.

‘Now that we know the curse, we can undo it,’ Naila said. ‘The Great Spirits can be at peace. The trapped spirit will be free. Thank you.’

‘I... it was nothing,’ he said, still rather taken aback.

Naila gestured to the remains scattered on the ground. ‘May we take this back?’ she asked, her voice soft and sad. ‘Usra deserves a proper cremation.’

‘By all means.’ Keeping the witch’s remains here would only give him more nightmares and a deep, deep sense of unease.

Bowing, Naila and Nayani moved towards Usra’s remains. Directing some of his guards to assist the witches, Ashoka stood back and pondered.

He was one step closer to stopping the Great Spirits. One step closer to leading the war council. One step closer to proving the voice in his head wrong. Now, he had to keep his end of the bargain. As if by coincidence, he caught Naila’s eye, and her request came rushing back:

Kill Governor Kosala .

Kill, and you become just like me , his father’s voice taunted. Will you do it?

The Ashoka he was before Taksila would have let out an ear-splitting no . That Ashoka would be revulsed that his current self even paused at the question. Considered it.

I don’t want to, father , he responded, but I don’t know.