The Archer's Heart (29 page)

Jandu tried to resurrect some of the old indignation he would have felt, dirtying himself with lower caste skin, but the truth was, a foot was a foot. The Parans might have been the only Triya on the mountain, but they were the ones that were starving. Suddenly, religious status seemed unimportant.

Jandu pushed the thought from his mind, but he couldn’t help but notice that the clearly Chaya-caste pilgrims were more likely to give him something to eat than the better-off, Suya merchant caste. The poorer were more generous with the little they had. It made Jandu feel ashamed of the way he used to mock the Chaya. It also made Jandu miss Keshan even more, hearing Keshan’s chiding voice in his mind.

Once, late one evening when Jandu had struck out with every pilgrim who wandered on the trail, Jandu followed a lone merchant making his way to the retreat to sell herbal medicines.

“Help me,” Jandu pleaded, walking alongside the man with his bowl out.

The man was shorter than Jandu, and older. He eyed Jandu warily. “Leave me alone.”

Jandu followed him. “Please. My wife is pregnant.”

“Bugger off.” The man quickened his steps. Jandu kept pace. The man watched the way Jandu strode up the hill and frowned. “You do not walk like a beggar.”

“I don’t?” Jandu looked at his feet.

“You walk like a thief.”

Jandu narrowed his eyes. “What kind of fucking thief follows assholes like you up a mountain begging for a handful of some fucking rice?”

The man stopped and glared at Jandu. Jandu squared his shoulders and stared back.

“Fuck you,” the man said finally. He spat in Jandu’s face and walked up the hill. Jandu’s fists tensed, and he dropped his begging bowl.

Jandu’s face clouded with rage and he took off after the man. He caught the older man easily, grabbed the man’s shoulder and spun him around.

“If I wanted to take your money I’d have fucking well done it and left you dead on the side of the road. You want to know why I don’t? Because I’m better than that, you prick.” He let go of the man’s shoulder, and watched him sprint up the trail in a panic. Jandu waited until he was out of sight, and then stooped down to pick up his begging bowl again.

He felt beaten.

But he continued to beg the rest of the winter. He thought the humiliation would wear off. He thought that spicing up his begging with telling jokes, or offering to read palms, would bring some joy into the situation. But there was a constant, sinking, understanding that Jandu was as low as he could get. It would have been easier if only he had gotten a letter from Keshan, but none came.

The winter months passed and as the air sweetened with blossoms and fruit finally hung throughout the forest, and the sky tumbled and rumbled with the threats of monsoon rain.

But still no new word from Keshan arrived.

Jandu’s letters collected under the stone statue in his forest clearing like the leftovers of an abandoned library. He built a bigger box to store them all. Mice had gotten into the box and chewed on the pata cloth, ruining one of his better sketches. Three months without word from Keshan turned to four, and Jandu’s optimism, the spark that had heated his family through the chilly first year and a half and brought a little light into their dark situation, faded from his heart completely.

On his way back from begging one evening, he checked the forest clearing to find that his box of letters had been knocked over by some wild animal, his precious words strewn around the forest floor like leaves. He let out a strangled cry and rushed through the glade, picking up his letters and putting them back in the box with trembling hands. When he returned the box in its place, with all letters accounted for, Jandu leaned against the statue and covered his face with his hands. Something broke in him. He could feel it, in his heart, a gentle snap, and he covered his face with his hands and wept. He lost his sense of righteousness, his sense of duty, his pride. And, worst of all, he had somehow lost Keshan too.

Chapter 23

J
ANDU HADN’T HEARD FROM
K
ESHAN IN FIVE MONTHS. 

Had Keshan found someone else? Someone who could touch Keshan in the ways that Jandu, hiding in the forest, could not?

Or, worse, had something happened to him? In Keshan’s last letter he had mentioned the spies who swarmed through Tiwari, looking for signs of the Parans. Perhaps they caught Keshan and were torturing him now, trying to get information of the Paran’s location. Maybe Keshan would break, and he would show them the map to their hiding spot. Jandu could be responsible for leading his family’s enemies straight to them.

Not knowing drove his paranoia. Only the soothing continuity of Keshan’s letters had given Jandu complacency. Now, without them, the bleakness of their situation became painfully obvious.

Jandu visited the statue daily on his way to beg on the pilgrim’s trail, but his letters remained, with no word from Keshan. Jandu grew angry at being forgotten. And then depression set in.

Jandu wrote more letters, as if sheer volume would draw Keshan’s servant. He wrote one every other day. They always started with deep affection, and then grew more and more hostile at Keshan’s continuing silence.

And then, one morning, Jandu walked out to the clearing, and noticed all his letters were gone. His heart skipped a beat.

But nothing replaced them. Chezek had taken the letters but brought nothing in return. Jandu furiously searched the clearing but found nothing. Chezek had traveled for weeks to this point, and he didn’t even bother to bring back a single sentence for Jandu?

His fury tumbled into fear as other, more horrible scenarios came to mind. Darvad’s men captured Chezek, and their location had been discovered. His letters were found, and were making their way to Darvad this very moment. Or Chezek had been killed before he could drop off Keshan’s scroll. Only terrible endings could explain such an odd occurrence.

Jandu couldn’t sleep. He kept Suraya awake at night as he tossed and kicked off the cotton sheet, worry preventing him from even being able to enjoy dreams.

One night Suraya stared at Jandu as he rested his head on his hands and glared up at the ceiling of the hut, watching a trail of ants make their way from a hole in the thatch work along the ceiling and down the wall.

“What’s wrong?” Suraya asked sleepily. She rubbed his shoulder gently.

“I can’t sleep,” Jandu said.

Suraya turned to face him as best as she could. Her large belly made the bed much smaller.

“Why not?” Suraya asked.

“I’m just worried.” Jandu looked at her. Anxiety over Keshan’s silence gnawed at him. He wanted to tell her so badly he almost blurted it out. And then, as always, he realized the insanity of his primary instinct. That would be the worst thing he could do. “You have to eat for two. You aren’t getting enough for one.”

Suraya watched his expression closely. “You need to stop worrying about me.”

Jandu smiled falsely and kissed her forehead.

“Good night,” he said, turning away from her.

“Sleep.” She whispered it in his ear, as if a command. And for once, it seemed to work.

But Jandu awoke before everyone, before dawn. Unable to rest in bed any longer, he rose and wrote another letter to Keshan. At dawn he left the letter under the statue, praying that Chezek had only been scared off and would be back any day to leave a note from Keshan.

But weeks went by without another word. Jandu’s letters collected under the statue again, and then, as before, they disappeared one day, nothing left behind to suggest they were ever there.

Jandu swore, and searched the glade frantically. What the hell was going on? Why would Chezek come all the way from Tiwari to pick up his letters and yet leave nothing behind?

Unless something really had happened to Keshan. Jandu knelt suddenly on the damp forest floor and prayed for Keshan’s safety.

With his eyes closed, he heard soft footsteps behind him. He stood and whirled around quickly, drawing his hunting knife.

Jandu’s eyes widened. He lowered his knife.

Standing there, in the middle of the morning forest, was a woman.

She seemed ethereal. Her skin shimmered and swam, and Jandu instantly knew she was a Yashva. Her golden sheen, her flawless perfection, and her swirling eyes made her clearly inhuman.

She was beautiful, like an exaggerated effigy of a goddess. Her waist seemed impossibly thin between the voluptuous curves of her breasts and hips. She wore only a thin golden belt around her waist, barely covering her groin.

Her breasts were heavy and round, with large nipples pointed straight at him. Her thick black hair reached all the way to her lower back in a shiny straight curtain. Her eyes were almond shaped, spinning and flashing in a way that made Jandu dizzy.

He felt his cheeks grow hot with embarrassment at her nudity. Why did she stare at him?

“You must be Jandu,” the Yashva whispered seductively. She stepped towards him. Jandu looked down and noticed she had no sandals. Her bare feet and hands were painted with henna patterns, and she wore gold anklets.

“Who are you?” Jandu asked. As she walked towards him, he backed up slightly.

“My name is Umia,” the woman said, coyly blinking her eyes. “And I love you too.”

Jandu froze. “Excuse me?”

Umia laughed quietly. She had a tinkling laugh that sounded like bells. “I love you too. I’ve received all your letters, sweet Jandu. I have shown myself to you to proclaim my equal affection.”

Jandu felt the color drain from his face. “My… you read my letters?”

Umia nodded. She pointed to the statue in the middle of the clearing. “You left them at my effigy.”

Jandu looked at the ancient, worn statue, and realized it was, indeed, of a woman. Age and rain had washed off her features, but the hips were now noticeably curvy.

“Umia, you are… a goddess?” Jandu asked, staring at her in awe.

Umia laughed again. She stood next to him, so close Jandu could smell vanilla in her hair.

“I am a Yashva,” she whispered, “and one of Mendraz’s consorts.” She reached up and ran a hand along Jandu’s bare chest. “And although I rarely have anything to do with humans, I can’t resist you.” She brought her lips close to his. “You are the most beautiful human being I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Jandu stared at her, feeling faint.
Oh God, now what?

“Umia, I’m flattered.” He backed up. The backs of his calves hit her statue. “But I’m afraid those letters, they weren’t… I mean, I wrote them to someone else.”

Umia smiled lasciviously. “Nonsense. I read them. Only I can inspire such lust in mankind.” She raised an eyebrow. “You have quite an imagination. And you are very specific about what you’d like to do to me.” Umia frowned. “Although some of it I didn’t quite understand
how
I was supposed to—”

“—Umia,” Jandu interrupted quickly. He knelt at her feet, bowing his head. “Please forgive me!”

Umia knelt as well, her breasts shaking as she did so. She held Jandu’s face in her hands. “There’s nothing to forgive. You love me, and I love you. I want you.” She leaned closer. “Kiss me.”

Jandu’s mind raced on how he would get out of this situation. The last thing Jandu wanted to do was sleep with Mendraz’s consort. Mendraz was his ally, the king of the Yashvas.

Umia kissed him. Jandu stiffened. After a moment, Umia pulled away, looking confused.

“Jandu,” she said quietly, “are you not attracted to me?”

Jandu started to sweat. He didn’t want to offend her. Who knew what power she had? But he also definitely didn’t want to screw her either.

“Umia, you are the mother of all beauty. I see you as a mother, and worship you as one.” Jandu brought his palms together and bowed low to her in respect.

Umia didn’t say anything, but she stood quickly. When Jandu looked up at her, she shook with rage.

“How
dare
you insult me like this!” she spat. Her hands were in fists. “You compare me to your
mother
?”

Jandu held his hands in the sign of peace. “Please! I mean no offense! I just look at you as such a heavenly being, I would never propose to think of you in any way other than as something to be worshipped.”

“Then worship me!” Umia glared down at him. “And make love to me, as I command! Be a man!”

Jandu’s heart was in his throat. “I’m sorry, Umia. I… I cannot.”

Umia’s shock was plain. She obviously rarely had her requests denied.

“As you wish! Don’t be a man.” A soft blue tint surrounded her body. Her eyes glowed blue. Although Jandu had never seen it happen before, he had heard stories of demons with the power to curse. All the stories warned that demons turned blue first. Jandu blanched in horror.

She glared at Jandu. “If you are going to act like such a woman, I curse you to be one!”

“What!”

Umia pointed at him, the other hand on her curvy hip.

“I curse you, Jandu! You flirt with your words, and then scorn me with your body! Since you are so selfish with your manhood, you will lose it and be transformed into a woman!”

A gray mist of curse words formed around her head, and then exploded towards Jandu. Jandu covered his face with his arms as the shower of misty words fell on him, turning his skin cold, making him shiver to the marrow of his bones.

And without another word, Umia stormed out of the forest glade.

Jandu knelt there on the forest floor, too stunned to move.

“My God, my God!” He clenched his hands into fists. This was the worst thing that could ever have happened to him. “No!” He kicked the statue of Umia and ran back to his family, desperate for Yudar to think of some way out of this situation.

The whole way back, Jandu’s mind raced. A curse was impossible to remove. And Yashva curses always came true. “God!” Jandu made a fist as he burst into the main hut and startled Yudar and Suraya, who were drinking tea and talking inside, away from the brutal afternoon sun.

Breathlessly, Jandu gave Yudar and Suraya an abbreviated version of what had just happened, skipping the part about the letters, and just stating that Mendraz’s Yashva consort tried to seduce him, and when he refused, she cursed him. Suraya started laughing, but Yudar went pale.

“Holy beings have the power to curse,” Yudar said. “It will come true, you realize.”

Jandu kicked a wooden stool in frustration.

“Why didn’t you just sleep with her?” Yudar demanded.

Jandu looked at him like he was crazy. “What are you talking about?  She belongs to Mendraz,” Jandu snapped. “And I want Mendraz to be our ally!”

“You should have done as she asked,” Yudar said.

“Besides, I’m married to Suraya,” Jandu protested. Suraya gave him a strange look, and Yudar did not appreciate Jandu’s fidelity. Yudar paced the room, looking more worried about the situation than Jandu.

“This is bad, bad!” Yudar cried. “Jandu, you are a fool!”

Baram came in, having heard the shouting from outside. When they retold the story to him, he just shook his head at his younger brother.

“Why not just sleep with her?” he asked.

Jandu moaned and sank to his knees, covering his face. He felt a tickle on his chest and, in a total panic, rubbed his chest frantically to make sure he hadn’t spontaneously developed large breasts.

“You need to pray,” Yudar said. Jandu wasn’t looking at him, so Yudar knelt down and shook Jandu by the shoulders. “Listen to me! You need to pray to Mendraz. Ask for help, Jandu. You helped him in the forest. Maybe he will help you now.”

Jandu nodded. He stood shakily. “I’ll try.”

“Hurry,” Yudar said.

Jandu didn’t need the encouragement. He quickly made his way to the main path through the forest. He found an isolated spot and knelt down, closing his eyes and praying with all his heart to Mendraz.

Jandu brought his hands together, and called to Mendraz over and over. He had no idea if the Yashva could hear him, but Keshan once told him that Mendraz watched over the world, both the human one and the Yashva kingdom.

Jandu prayed for hours, long after the hot afternoon sun had set, after the sounds of the nocturnal animals filled the forest air, the loud croaking of frogs from the nearby stream, the hoot of owls, the constant rustle of undergrowth.

Jandu’s knees ached as they pressed against the uneven stones and ground. He kept his palms glued together as he prayed, his eyes shut, focusing all his concentration on his one goal. Mazar had taught him that praying sincerely was a lot like shooting a bow accurately. It had to do with clearing one’s mind of all extraneous thought, and meditating on one’s only purpose. Jandu breathed deeply, calming his mind, focusing his energies.

Mendraz.
  

“I see you have angered another Yashva.”

Jandu’s eyes shot open in surprise. He saw nothing but the jungle around him.

And then, blurry, flittering through the jungle, Jandu could make out the towering blue figure of the King of the Yashvas. Mendraz stood before him, but was in the Yashva Kingdom. The King stepped forward, and brightened. Jandu shielded his eyes as the King stepped into the human world as if he were stepping over a fallen log.

“I’m impressed,” Mendraz said, his accent thick, his voice booming. “You can see me even in the Yashva world. You have many impressive powers, mortal Jandu.”

Jandu’s eyes hurt with the brightness of light emanating from the demon. Jandu’s heart beat wildly, and his throat seemed to close in fear. Even though he had seen Mendraz before, the sight still awed him. Mendraz’s face and arms faded in an out of clarity, swimming through the air as if seen through warped glass, never fully in focus.

Jandu narrowed his eyes, to try and find Mendraz’s face. “My Lord Mendraz!” Jandu prostrated himself low before the King.

“And one of your powers seems to be your uncanny ability to anger my people.” Jandu thought he could detect amusement in his voice.

Jandu looked up. Mendraz appeared to be smiling, although his teeth vibrated, sharp and shining.

“I don’t mean to cause any strife among the Yashva,” Jandu said, bowing his head once more. “I cause enough problems in my own world.”