Page 3 of The Burning Mountain
The man took a pinch of salt from a small spice box and added it to the water. The magic stone was already in the pot. Lalasa could hear it rattling with the bubbling water.
“Will you need anything else, stranger?” asked the headman’s wife as she sat near the clay stove to study closely. Lalasa saw the animation on her homely face—she was excited at the prospect of watching a magic show.
“No, ma’am,” replied the man. “Your salt is of premium quality. I see very little impurities in it.”
“Nothing but the best for my husband, even though we have to pay a little extra for that luxury,” said his wife, her voice brimming with pride.
“Of course. And may I say, this spice box is so exquisitely decorated and there is room for so many containers too.” The man trailed his fingers across the white enamel that ran the length of the box.
“Oh yes, that’s from my hometown, and I brought the most expensive one I could find.”
“Ah, I see. It’s fortunate that you were able to do so in these hard times,” said the man, who had given his name as Veer. He and his wife, a silent woman who spoke very little and sat meekly behind her husband, were traveling to Thanepur on some business that escaped Lalasa’s mind at the moment.
Speaking of which, his own chatterbox of a wife gave a long-suffering sigh. “Things haven’t been the same since King Harideva died,” she said, giving the man a long-handled spoon to stir the contents of the pot. “The new ruler, King Naga Bhairava, is good to us but trade has declined, and you can’t find things like you used to.”
“This is news to me, ma’am. Thianvelli has a new king?” asked Veer, astonishment wreathing his face. Lalasa wondered briefly what the man did for a living. He appeared to be of sturdy build. Perhaps he could offer him some employment here?
“Oh yes. Haven’t you heard? This happened last year, so if you were away during that time, I can understand why you didn’t know. This new king, Naga Bhairava, was once a highofficial at Harideva’s court. He hatched a plan to usurp the throne with the help of some generals in the army,” she said, lowering her voice conspiratorially. Lalasa saw her passing the man some vegetable scraps from the kitchen on the sly and decided to overlook it this once. They were merely peelings and dried-out husks, anyway, fit only as animal fodder.
“Some say Harideva suspected it,” continued his wife. “And was able to get his queen and his only son, Prince Aditya, away in time. Unfortunately, Harideva lost his life confronting the usurpers. The queen and Prince Aditya have been on the run since, and some people whisper they are trying to get the prince on the throne.”
Lalasa frowned, thinking it was time he had another “talk” with his wife. They lived comfortably because of the patronage of the current rulers and needed to be careful about how they spoke in public. Expressing too much sympathy for the deposed queen or prince was dangerous during these times.
“I’m sure he is as interested in these unfounded rumors as he is about your spice boxes, my dear,” said Lalasa loudly. His wife caught his glare and the meaning behind it, and subsided.
“How is the soup coming along, stranger? Is it done?” he addressed Veer, wanting to be done with the evening.
“Hmm…yes. Almost done,” said Veer, sniffing the air. “May I trouble you for a pinch of cumin and mustard? It makes the soup taste better.”
At Lalasa’s nod, the man went for the spice box again.
His wife, minding his earlier reprimand, restricted her conversation to whispers.
Dusk led to the inky blackness of the night. Lamps were lit in the courtyard, attracting fireflies.
Lalasa’s belly gave a loud rumble. He glanced toward the water clock. There were still four more hours before it struck midnight, signifying the end of the fast. Lalasa wasn’t used tostarving for so long and he had initially planned to retire to bed, to sleep off the hunger pangs.
Unless… He glanced toward where the man sat on his haunches, eyes closed as he hummed to himself.
“How much longer, stranger? We need to retire for the night soon,” he asked, frowning.
“Eh? So soon? But the magic needs time to build,” said Veer, as he blinked his eyes open.
“It’s all right, stranger,” said Lalasa’s wife. “TheNaga Panchamifast will last until midnight, and I have to be awake anyway, to offer a quick prayer to the snake god. I’ll be happy to stay until you’re finished and taste the soup. Just to see if you’re telling the truth,” she tagged on with a fearful glance at her husband.
Lalasa frowned. “Hold on. I need to stay until the fast is finished too. Not fair that only you get to taste. We all will have a taste. Stranger, can you make enough for everyone?”
Veer smiled. “Of course, I just need a few more ingredients.”
Lalasa bade his wife to give the stranger whatever he needed.
A few more hours passed. As time for the end of the fast drew near, the headman was fighting to stay awake. Only the fact that the air was now scented with aromatic spices kept him awake.
By now, there were more than a half a dozen root vegetables added to the stew. The man had requested only one or two—a potato here, a radish there, a wrinkled carrot that was found in the depths of the larder, but added together, they seemed to have filled up the pot. Now he was adding the leftoverdalfrom yesterday, mashed together with the pulp of tamarind.
The headman recognized the more common smells of mustard, cumin, coriander, but also the rarejavetri, stone flower, and bay leaf, along with a dozen others that he didn’t know the names of. The aroma hung heavily in the air, whettinghis appetite and making his mouth water. He was impatient for the man to be done so he could eat.
“Wife, how about bringing the pickle you made last month? I’m sure that would go well with the soup,” he called.
