Page 43 of The Burning Mountain
He had anticipated dismay. Harideva was a popular king, and a lot of the citizens wanted his son on the throne. But things were not shaping up like he had expected.
When he decided to have this viewing, it was to put an end to the speculation and to remove the hope that Aditya’s continued existence gave the people of Thianvelli.
Sakaala murmured in his ear urgently, and Ketuvahana nodded. His advisor was right. It was way past time to put an end to this spectacle.
They didn’t owe the public anything. They were the rulers. If they decreed that the previous royal family was dead, the people of this city had to bow down their heads and accept that statement.
Maybe he had been too hasty in deciding to organize this viewing, mentioning nothing to his family. He had only been thinking of outshining his brothers and elevating himself in their father’s eyes.
But his little plan was backfiring. Ketuvahana signaled to his commander. The soldiers moved.
However, before the commander could issue orders, there was a minor tussle at the entrance. A lady in a white saree was climbing up the steps. The soldiers restricting people retreated at her approach, their faces reflecting shock.
Ketuvahana couldn’t make out who this person was as she had covered her head with the saree’spallu—a widow by her attire. When she reached the coffin, she glanced inside briefly and straightened, throwing back herpallu, revealing her identity.
The crowd gasped, and Ketuvahana swore.
It was Gauri Devi, Aditya’s mother and the ex-queen.
For a moment, shock rendered him immobile, same as the vast crowd that stood to rapt attention.
“Gauri Devi. Have you come to die or be captured as well?” shouted Ketuvahana, recovering from his brief paralysis.
She gave him a withering glare and turned to the crowd to address them, her voice crystal clear and carrying across the clearing.
“This is a lie. The body of an imposter lies in this coffin.”
“If that is true, then where is Prince Aditya?” a shout came from the crowd.
Gauri Devi’s gaze cut to Ketuvahana. Even at this distance, he could feel her vitriol directed against him. “Somewhere safe.And if I, his mother can confirm this, then you can take my word as truth.”
She addressed the crowd again, her voice loud. “People of Thianvelli, don’t despair. When it’s time, Prince Aditya will return to take back his rightful place. Put your trust in God.”
Ketuvahana cursed loudly, and his commander’s voice rang with orders to capture the erstwhile queen.
A series of loud bangs sounded. Someone had lit the firecrackers that were usually reserved for a celebration.
Pandemonium descended as a nearby banner caught fire. It tore itself from its mooring and the wind carried the burning cloth across the crowd to land on the platform.
It was a sunny day, the middle of the monsoon season, really, but the boards inexplicably ignited. The fire quickly spread, engulfing the structure in flame and smoke. Gauri Devi’s figure was obscured by the licking flames and dense smoke.
Before the call for water could even be communicated halfway across, everything had already ended. With a great crash, the platform went down, burying the coffin and the former queen under its rubble.
A while later, once the flames died down, the commander directed the soldiers to search through the rubble, while others were engaged in keeping control of the crowds.
Ketuvahana stood worrying his fingernail, watching the proceedings absently. The damage done in the last few moments was insurmountable, and he already dreaded hearing from his father once news of this debacle reached him.
With a few choice words said strategically, Gauri Devi had placed an unerasable doubt in the minds of the people.
Aditya was dead. They couldn’t find another Aditya to kill, to satisfy the people, to prove to them beyond a doubt that the chosen heir wasn’t coming.
They were screwed.
20
GUILT
Chandra opened her eyes groggily; her head felt heavy, as if she had slept for days. The red-beamed ceiling above slowly came into focus. Her nose twitched recognizing several scents of medicinal herbs, but the predominant odor was the pungent opium—a thick, dark liquid that Dhatri would distill and pour down her throat whenever she woke up.
