Path of the Eclipse (64 page)

The Untouchables were still; then the leper said, “There is a river nearby. You call it the Chenab.”

“How far is it to where the Kudri joins with it?” It was most inappropriate for her to ask directions of these people, but now that she had begun, Padmiri was filled with an odd exhilaration.

“Not far,” the leper said after another considerable silence. “It is a distance walked from dawn until the sun stands at the crown of the trees. The Exalted One, having a horse, will get there more quickly.” Never in his life had the old leper said so much to one of such high caste. Perhaps this was not an Exalted One at all, but a demon come to bring more misfortune.

“What track shall I follow?” Padmiri asked.

The leper wanted to lie to her, but the vengeance of demons was worse than their pranks. “The path is there.” He pointed with the rag-wrapped stump of his hand. “It leads to a wide road. Go up the road and there will be another path on the unclean side. That is where the Kudri is.” He knew, as did most of the Untouchables living near the temple, that there were ceremonies and rituals being performed there this night, and that it was wisest to stay away from them. It was not for those of the Untouchables to question what those of higher castes did.

Padmiri pressed her mare onward, relieved to be away from the presence of the Untouchables. She began to hope that she might arrive in time.

By the time she reached the road, new doubts had assailed her. How could she simply enter the temple and end the ceremony? Not only would the act be sacrilege, she no longer thought it would be successful. There were guards around the temple, men such as the three she had found on the road, who would be pleased to serve the goddess with her suffering. The mare plodded up the road, as tired as the woman on her back. It was near the middle of the night and chill. One woman, alone, unarmed, what could she do against those gathered in the temple of Kali? She was near the turning at the Kudri; she heard the rush of the water plainly now. Padmiri no longer knew what the gods required of her. It was tempting to listen to the water and let what had been destined from the birth of the gods and the first turning of the Wheel come to pass. The splash of the Kudri was now a muted roar. It would run red in the morning, she thought. When the rites of Kali’s temple were over, the river would still be tainted by the refuse of the sacrifice.… The Kudri. Padmiri brought her head up. Surely elephant-headed Ghanesh, intelligent and wise, had touched her! The Kudri, which her brother had ordered be dammed so that a pleasure lake could be built. Oh, most certainly the Kudri would run red in the morning!

By the time she reached the camp of the builders, her mare had foundered and was panting as she limped up the trail. Had Padmiri been less exhausted herself, she would have dismounted and left the mare behind, but she was afraid that once out of the saddle she would be unable to move. Her one fear remaining now was that the builders themselves had gone to the temple and there would be no one to put her plan into effect.

The huts of the builders were hide-covered wooden frames and many of them were empty. There were six fire pits in the camp but only four of them held smoldering embers, and Padmiri directed the mare toward them.

“Arise!” she shouted, remembering how her father had ordered his men. She did not question her actions anymore. Ghanesh had shown her what the gods had intended her to do.

At first no one responded to this summons, and she felt her apprehension flicker a last time. Then an arm came around one of the hide flaps of the nearest hut and a surly voice demanded to know who had come there.

“I am Padmiri, sister to him who was your Rajah, Kare Dantinusha, and father to the Rani Tamasrajasi!” It was impossible that she would not be believed. There was no one in this country who would be so foolish, so presumptuous, as to claim that rank unless it was genuine.

One of the men emerged at once and abased himself. “Reverend Lady,” he said as he rubbed his face in an attempt to waken.

“I am here with orders for you,” Padmiri informed him. “Have two of your men lift me out of the saddle.” There was nothing odd in this request, where those of high caste often had slaves whose sole function was to sleep at the foot of their beds in case they should happen to cough in the night and need someone to wipe their lips afterward.

“At once, at once,” the builder said as he gathered his thoughts. He raised his voice and bawled, “The sister of the Rani’s father is in our camp! Acknowledge her!” If he thought it odd that a high-caste woman should come unaccompanied to a builders’ camp, and on horseback, he said nothing. Padmiri was glad now that she had long had a reputation for eccentricity.

Slowly men came from the huts. They were dressed roughly and most of them were filthy. All of them abased themselves to her, and then the first man she had spoken to pointed out two of the others. “The Reverend Lady wishes to dismount. Assist her.”

As the two men came to aid her, Padmiri wished that they were slaves of her own household, not artisan-caste workers unknown to her. She bit back a yelp as one of the men took her foot from the stirrup and swung it over the mare’s back. When she finally stood on solid ground again, Padmiri was seized by a kind of vertigo. Her legs no longer seemed the right length and when she started to walk she almost lost her balance. That would not do. She had much to accomplish before she returned to her house.

“Why have you honored us, Reverend Lady?” asked the camp leader.

Padmiri had invented an answer to that question as she had ridden up the twisting path to the builders’ camp, and she said with authority, “My father’s child and heir is known to you. Doubtless you are aware that she makes sacrifice this night, this hour, in the temple to Kali below the first falls.”

“Yes, Reverend Lady, we know of that.” The builders had decided that the rituals boded ill for their work. When they had petitioned the Rani, they had hoped for other results, but it seemed now that the pleasure lake would not be made.

“I have the honor to bring you word of her wishes in this regard,” she announced, pleased when the builders gave her their utmost attention.

“What does the Rani require of us?” the camp leader asked.

“It is the nature of Kali,” Padmiri said grandly, “to take pleasure in destruction and fecundity. Those who worship her and offer her sacrifice do it in the hope that there will be great fertility and complete oblivion. Therefore, it is suitable that those who sacrifice their bodies with lust should also do so with destruction.” Several years before, one of the great scholars who had visited Padmiri had spent much time discussing the merits of the worship of Kali. At the time Padmiri had listened and questioned, but now she dredged up all that she had been told. “It is therefore most appropriate that as the sacrifice proceeds and the rituals are enacted, that the worship itself should be extinguished.”

“You tell us that?” The leader of the camp wondered what the Rani wanted of him and his stoneworkers. Surely even she would know that they could not destroy a temple in a few hours.

“It is the wish of my father’s daughter that the dam you have made here be destroyed at once, so that the water it holds back innundate the temple and thereby consume all within it while it cleanses the stones of the blood which Kali desires, so that nothing remains. There is no better sacrifice than this.” Padmiri knew enough of the devotions given Kali to be convincing now. “It will earn you much merit to do this thing, for you will offer the greatest sacrifice and enable those in the temple to reach the full consummation of their rituals.”

The men heard her out patiently, and then the leader held out his hands. “But, Reverend Lady, we cannot do it.”

“Cannot?” Padmiri repeated in her most imperious manner. “You will tell your Rani that this cannot be done when she has already said that it must be?” The builders were her last hope! She had no other. “In the morning, must I inform her that her will was denied by builders?”

Tamasrajasi had not ruled long, but already it was known that she would not be thwarted in anything she desired. The builders exchanged uneasy glances.

“At the least you will finish on the elephant’s foot,” Padmiri said coldly while her thoughts raced. She did not know how she would get back to her house if the men here refused to carry out her orders. And what would become of her afterward, she dared not consider at all.

One of the men who had assisted Padmiri off her mare spoke up. “At the base of the dam, Mihir, there are blocking stones. They are not mortared. If we take sledges and braces, we can knock them away, and then the water will do the rest.”

“Yes,” the camp leader agreed unhappily: though it was the will of the Rani, he hated to see the dam destroyed. “That is one way, of course. It is dangerous.”

The man who had spoken lowered his head respectfully. “There are those of us who will undertake this work for the merit it earns us in the next life.”

Mihir glowered a moment, and then resigned himself to the orders he had received. “Yes, it will be done that way.” He saw the smile on Padmiri’s face and misinterperted it. “I suppose you wish to have sufficient time to return to the temple?”

Padmiri was startled. “No…” She was astounded to hear her voice continue in regretful accents, “I have not been allowed this honor. The Rani wishes the temple to be cleansed before dawn, and if the work is as arduous as you say, you must not hesitate any longer. I will abide here”—the thought of walking any distance at all made her feel slightly sick—“and when it is over, I must call a periyanadu, for such is the will of the Rani.” How far had the celebration advanced? she wondered. What had Tamasrajasi done?

The camp leader abased himself again. “It is the Will of the Rani,” he said formally. “The dam will be destroyed so that the temple of Kali may be cleansed before dawn.” He turned to his men and gave the sign that they should gather their tools.

When the men left, Padmiri went and sat near the largest of the fire pits. It did not provide much warmth, but now that the heat of her activities had deserted her, Padmiri was grateful for every spark in the embers. Ghanesh, she decided, had taken his hand from her forehead once the builders departed, for she felt drained of all emotion. Neither terror nor desire nor vengeance moved her now. She waited in stillness to hear the first rush of the unleashed waters.

Text of a letter from the Brahmin Rachura to the Sultan Shams-ud-din Iletmish.

To the Sultan at Delhi in the ninth year of his reign, the Brahmin Rachura, who has sat at the side of the Rajah Kare Dantinusha and the Rani Tamasrajasi, sends his greetings.

Doubtless this missive must alarm you, good Muslim, as the circumstances which require it be sent alarm me. Under most conditions it would be unthinkable for this communication to occurr, but I have learned of a few matters that cause me to approach you, for I made specific assurances to the Rajah Kare Dantinusha, and it has come to pass that I must act upon the instructions he left me.

Not very many seasons ago, there was civil war in Natha Suryarathas, when brothers and cousins rose against the Rajah to their own ends. War exacted its price from us, on those who chose to challenge the will of the gods and bring much karma upon themselves. Also, there has been the matter of the tribute sent to you, O Sultan, and although I am not a worldly man, yet I assume that one of the purposes of this tribute is to prevent any of the Rajahs from acquiring enough wealth to make it possible to raise an army large enough to defeat the ones that you command. You are abhorrent to me, but I have heard things of you that lead me to think of you with respect. It has been said of you that you have made and caused to be kept a treaty with the demon known to the world as Jenghiz Khan. If this is true, and there are many who aver that it is, then it says much for you. I am subject to the Wheel, as you are, and if it is the will of the gods that one such as you must deal with this great destruction which has come upon the world, it is not for me to question what the gods have caused.

I have been told that you recently were sent a document by the Great Mistress, Rani Tamasrajasi, and that much of what it contained was rash. She is very young—old enough for motherhood, most truly, but still more a girl than a woman. It is most unfortunate that she should so address you. I believe that the Commander of the palace guard has not yet had the opportunity to explain to her how matters stand between Natha Suryarathas and Delhi. She is a girl born to rule, of commanding nature and great honor. Were you to see her, you would know this as you know the bodies of your wives. You would know that the dreams she has come from the greatness of her family and the nobility of her caste. It is, however, essential that you do not confuse this great majesty of mind with a daily truth. Tamasrajasi does not possess an army at this time. Her forces are limited to the palace guard and a few men who tour the borders in the dry months, and place the standard of the kingdom where it may be seen and respected by all. I cannot doubt that if her ambitions were realized she would take a great many warriors into battle and would most certainly triumph, but it is not possible at this time. The will of the Rani is the essence of truth, and what she has told you reflects the broadness of her vision and the strength of her karma, but there is as yet no force to do her will. It is not known when there will be. Most surely she desires to take on all the trappings and glory of battle, and it is not to her discredit that this is her wish. That she has not yet found the means to achieve her ambitions in no way diminished her.

Before you send your men to pillage this land and vent the whole scope of your anger upon Natha Suryarathas for the insult you believe our Rani has given you, be cautious, O Sultan. To attack one who is inspired by the gods will gain you many debts to pay in lives to come. Your reputation now is enviable for one in so unsettled a land. If you wage war with us, there will be others who will join with us, and you yourself will decrease the strength that has made you successful with the demon Jenghiz Khan. Allow our Rani her visions, but march only when you hear the tread of elephants and see the standards.