Page 49 of The Burning Mountain
Archana Devi opened her mouth to answer his question and then closed it. What could she say? That the corbels held the magical judiciary amulets. And that these amulets were also employed during the princess’s trial. Except they had failed to see if those amulets upheld justice, instead relegating them to storage.
Kalpana gave Sarun a quick, fond smile before glancing back at the queen, her face faltering at whatever she saw on Archana Devi’s face. She hastily grabbed her son’s hand and left, sending her a puzzled look.
Archana Devi’s heart squeezed, watching their interaction as her mind drifted to a similar scenario from her own past.
They had been visiting Sanchi,one of the vassal kingdoms of Hoysyala. Archana Devi had been basking in the bliss of her initial marriage years. She had borne her husband a son and heir, and now they had a second issue on the way.
Archana Devi was born to a desert tribe and had many reservations agreeing to a marriage with the king of Rajgarh, which mostly had to do with their differences in station. But her husband had, over the years, put her at ease. He loved her, their son was born healthy, and their kingdom was thriving.
And if sometimes the resentment of their neighbors became evident, it was such a small thing that it didn’t dim her happiness. Or so she told herself, with a glance at their host, the queen of Sanchi, who had invited her and a couple of ladies from neighboring countries for an assembly.
They were high on the flat top of a plateau of rock that rose above an undulating forest cover below. A brisk breeze blew strong and steady at this high altitude, threatening to unseat anyone unwary. Most of the ladies stayed well away from the edge of the plateau that was reinforced by a short brick wall.
A tug on her saree made her glance down. Her son’s solemn face stared up at her.
“Ma, please?” he asked, cocking his head in a way that was surprisingly birdlike.
Archana Devi sighed as she crouched down and cupped his face. The characteristic black-rimmed with silver irises of a Nilgiri wood pigeon stared from her son’s eyes.
“Veer, let go,” she said, running her fingers near his unnatural eyes, trying not to let her exasperation show. Her son practiced his magic all the time, almost like it was a compulsion for him to bond with any birds that were in the vicinity.
She and her husband were starting to worry because he didn’t seem to grasp how things in the real world worked, basing his reasoning on animal instincts alone. “It’s not good for you to maintain a connection for long, you know that, right?” They had taught him to hide this trait he had, and most of the time, he complied. But he was a four-year-old with a four-year-old’s impulses. The pigeon wasn’t the first, nor would it be the last.
He had been pestering her for the past hour about helping a bird he had spotted by the side of the cliff. But…Archana Devi glanced once again toward the assembled ladies. She knew she wasn’t among friends here.
The queen of Sanchi, who was a born princess of an older kingdom, took great pride in her lineage. The other royalty she had invited also had ties to these older kingdoms, who scorned the relatively newer kingdoms that had sprung up in the north, east and west. The exact reasons were lost to time. Perhaps it was nothing more than resentment, but once rivalry got established, it drove a wedge that went deeper with every passing year.
Truth be told, Archana Devi hadn’t wanted to come. She was in the early stages of her second pregnancy and morning sickness hadn’t quite left her yet. She hadn’t mentioned her state to the ladies here, preferring to keep the news to herself. Not that anyone cared about her enough to inquire about her health.
Her maid accompanied her everywhere, but she tended to speak only when spoken to. Her one friend here, a lady of Hoysyala’s high court, didn’t make the trip to this plateau claiming a fear of heights. Archana Devi wondered if she should have done the same.
But as the queen of Rajgarh, she was expected to make an appearance when invited or give an adequate excuse. So, she had come, mostly to show that she wasn’t cowed by their austere presence and partly to mollify the simmering tensions. Her husband was having difficulty as it was, trying to build bridges with these kingdoms.
The tug came again. “The pigeon is afraid, Ma. I can’t leave her. She’s afraid the wind will unseat her nest on the tree below.”
Archana Devi leaned over the edge slightly and found the tree Veer was pointing to. A flowering babul clung precariously to the cliff face, its roots burrowing like grasping fingers into the whitish-hued stone, as the tree extended its branches toward the sun, trying to catch the light.
A nest balanced precariously on one of the spindly branches.
“She has babies in her nest,” supplied Veer helpfully but unnecessarily. She could see the pigeon flitting about the globular yellow blossoms of the babul; its anxiety apparent by the way it flew haphazardly.
Archana Devi bit her lip, glancing back once again toward the gathering, their rich, brightly colored sarees rivaling even the brilliant hues of nature. By now, some of them had been eyeing her, and it should have been obvious to at least a couple that something was amiss. But no one offered help or an inquiry.
Asking them help went against her pride but… She glanced down at her son, who was watching the bird family with worry pinching his narrow face. She would swallow her ego and ask, for her son’s sake.
Clasping his hand firmly, she instructed him to keep his eyes as close to shut as possible, then Archana Devi strode toward the group, her maid following.
“A moment if you please, Your Majesties,” she greeted them. “My son has spotted a dove whose nest is about to fall off the tree on the cliff. He requests it be brought up to him. Would you please help?”
The queen of Sanchi, Jyesta Devi, was middle-aged but appeared much older, with sagging jowls and a stout waist. She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not sure I understand. What exactly do you want us to do?”
Archana Devi didn’t let the smile slip off her face. “Would you please instruct your guards to help get the birds before they fall down to their deaths?”
The queen stared her up and down with an insolent gaze. “Aren’t you the queen of Rajgarh? Where are your own guards? Why don’t you ask them?”
One of the other women in the group stood up straighter at the mention of Rajgarh.
“Our guards had to go with my husband,” answered Archana Devi patiently. “My husband felt it was safe enough with just my maid for company. After all, what harm could come to me when I’m a guest here, in the esteemed lands of Sanchi?”
