PRINCE IN EXILE (123 page)

He caught brief glimpses of female vanars squealing and crying out as he passed their ‘chambers’, and at least twice someone threw a stone that missed him narrowly. He guessed that because of the concubines, no male guards were posted in this section of Vali’s palace. Which removed one minor vexation from their path. Despite their agitation, he did not expect real opposition from the harem vanaris. Surely once they realised that they were not in any personal danger, they would be only too relieved to be freed of Vali’s tyranny. Even now, he knew that it was probably his hairless uniqueness that was frightening them. Most of them had probably never seen a human in person before. 

Gaining the top of the tree, he glanced around briefly. This was higher than he would have expected. The platform was at least a hundred yards above the ground. From here, he could see across a considerable area of the forest, although the ground itself was obscured by the trees. It stood to reason that the highest branches of the tallest tree should house the highest-ranking vanar. So this was the king’s chambers in Kiskindha Palace. 

He drew his bow, kept the cord tight and the arrow ready to loose at a flash and moved forward. 

Rama ducked below the narrow doorway and found himself in a passageway that led in several different directions. He picked the most logical one and after a short runway up a narrow passage—he guessed that the width of the passage was intended to deter any intruders or invaders, as was the custom in the master’s chambers of any human-built keep as well—he was relieved to find both walls and ceiling expanding abruptly into an enormous chamber by any standards. The chamber was round, being built around the trunk of the tree, and the ancient oak itself was visible, a good several yards of it, in the centre of the chamber. The chamber itself was a good twenty yards across from wall to wall, and he admired the engineering that must have been required to build and maintain such a structure at such a great height. 

He heard a cry from the far side of the chamber and turned his arrow that way at once. But the oak trunk growing through the centre of the room barred his view, and he must walk around it. He stepped forward carefully, his senses alert. 

The floor felt as solid as any stone fortress beneath Rama’s feet and was covered with richly-woven rugs. He had a quick impression of wealth and luxury, a great deal of gold and silver and shining metals, for vanars favoured shining things, and only glass and stone were absent from the furnishings, for vanars did not work those two materials. But there was a surfeit of pelts and skins of all species, strewn over everything, and moving around the chamber was like stepping on soft yielding plush. A familiar musky aroma filled the chamber. It was unlike any perfume Rama had ever smelled before but it evoked a sense of sensual indulgence. The fainter, more recognisable odour of honey-wine as the vanars made it, underlay the first aroma. Vanars loved furry comfort and for a vanar to sleep on a tiger pelt or the skin of any predator was the highest luxury imaginable. He could guess that whatever violence Vali perpetrated in Kiskindha or elsewhere, this private chamber was reserved for less violent, more sensual pursuits. It was a chamber that reeked of hedonistic excess. 

He came around the oak trunk which concealed a considerable amount of the far side of the chamber, and found himself looking at the prone body of Angad. The prince lay as if dead, a gash on his chest and his forehead both oozing blood profusely. Standing a couple of yards before him was a tall, powerfully-built vanar with a fine light-haired pelt, almost blond in colouring. He was taller than Rama himself, which made him almost twice as large as most vanars. Running down the length of his back, from the top of his head down to his tail, and including the tail itself, was a plume of ivory-white fur, as startling as a lightning bolt on a clear summer evening. His thick, enormously long tail twitched as Rama came closer, and the tip of it bobbed a good three yards away from the back from which it sprouted. 

Slowly, inevitably, the vanar turned to face Rama. 

Rama had a sense of a pale, yellowish face with eyes as startlingly white as the streak that ran down his back. Then the vanar spoke and his senses were shaken by the words that were spoken. 

‘Come, Rama, come,’ said Vali the Usurper. ‘What took you so long? I have been waiting impatiently for you. If you wish to get Sita back, we must act at once.’ 

NINE 

Rama kept the arrow pointed at Vali’s throat. But he felt rather than saw the faint tremble in the hand that gripped the arrow’s base. Vali’s extraordinary greeting had unnerved him in a way he would not have believed possible even a few weeks ago. 

Before Sita was taken
. For he had known even at sunset that fatal day, as he faced his first night in almost fourteen years without his wife, his companion, his love, that henceforth his life would be divided into two sharply sliced halves:
before Sita was taken
.
And after
. 

‘Well,’ said the blond usurper, smiling at Rama in the thin, tooth-concealing way that vanars had, because for vanars to show their teeth meant aggression. ‘Say something. Do you not want your wife back from Ravana’s clutches?’ 

‘What do you know about her?’ Rama asked. The moment the words were out of his mouth, he wished he could recall them. But like arrows in flight they could not be brought back. He did not regret the words themselves, he regretted speaking at all, because he knew he should shoot Vali at once, without hesitation or conversation. But he had to know: what did the vanar mean?
If you wish to get Sita back
… He wished for nothing else. Lived for nothing else. 

‘I know that the only reason you are here now is because you cannot get her back yourself. You need help. That is why you came to Mount Rishimukha and entered into the alliance with Sugreeva. That is why you promised him that you would kill me and reinstate him upon the throne. And in return, he agreed to give you the vanar sena, the army of Kiskindha. But have you forgotten, Rama? Who rules Kiskindha? Who commands that vanar sena?’ Vali turned his right paw inwards, touching his own chest. ‘Vali does. And Vali commands much more than just an army of vanars. Vali holds the key to getting your wife back safely. Do you even know where she is now?’ 

‘In Lanka,’ Rama said. He felt a thread of sweat pop out on his scalp and begin a slow oozing trail down the side of his head. Suddenly it felt unbearably stifling in here. Although the chamber was designed to allow breeze to blow in a clever cross-ventilation, cooled by the natural flow of air, he found it suffocating. 

‘Yes,’ Vali said with a smile that was more humanlike than Rama had seen on any vanar’s face these past days. It showed a little teeth, just enough to be menacing, but it was the curling upwards of the lips that added the touch of sinister promise. Rama didn’t know what that meant, but he knew that he was in grave danger and that unless he shot Vali first, he might not leave this castle in the trees alive. Yet despite this certainty, he could not bring himself to shoot. He had to hear what Vali had to say about Sita. ‘But where is Lanka?’ Vali held the smile a moment longer, just long enough to let Rama see that not only did he not know all the answers, he did not even know the questions.
Where is Lanka
? What did the vanar mean? Lanka was … 

‘Off the southern coast across the sea.’ 

Vali tut-tutted, shaking a single claw. The nails of the claw were painted, Rama noted, bright, vivid colours. So were Vali’s lips, giving him a peculiar, garish, but not entirely unattractive aspect. ‘Not quite. You see, that is where most of Lanka’s enemies presume it to be. In fact, the island-kingdom is situated off the lower south-east coast.’ 

Vali took a step forward, then another two steps, moving with the graceful ease of a danseuse—
or a very agile warrior
. Rama kept the arrowhead trained firmly on the vanar’s throat. He sensed that Vali was checking to see just that; whether or not Rama still possessed the will to keep the arrow aimed correctly. He felt sweat break out on his brow, the simple action of turning the bow a few degrees exerting far more effort than was normal. 

Sorcery
.
He
’
s using sorcery against me
. But even so, he still had to find out what Vali knew about Sita.
One last question
,
and then I will kill him
.
He cannot escape while I have him in my sights
.
Just one last question
. ‘What did you mean, when you said you hold the key to getting her back safely? What could you possibly possess apart from the power of your crown? Once Sugreeva regains his rightful place as king of Kiskindha, he will send the vanar army to aid me in my campaign to recover my wife. Why should I believe or trust you, a wife-stealer yourself!’ 

‘But that is precisely why you must trust me!’ Vali cried, clasping his hands together. ‘Because I know so much about it. And whether you believe me or not is no concern of mine. If you kill me now, I will lose my life, that is sure. But there are other worlds beyond this realm, other lives after this one. You, however, will lose the only thing that makes your life worth living. Can you pay that heavy price, Rama? Can you afford to lose Sita forever? Knowing as you do now that I can give you the key to recovering her,
here and now
,
at this very moment
,
in this very place
? Is your dharma strong enough to resist that offer, Prince of Ayodhya?’ 

Rama’s hand shook badly now. He tried to control it but it shivered and was racked by shudders at intervals that seemed to match the beating of his pulse. He could feel sweat pouring down his head profusely now, as if the crown of his skull had opened and was releasing the very fluids of his brain. His vision flared and blurred. He sensed movement at the edges, and had to exert tremendous willpower simply to keep the bow pointed and not swing and fire at shadows, and on impulses. He heard a great roaring at the very limit of his hearing, like the Sarayu raging over rapids in the monsoon, and from a far distance, he heard someone speak in measured, clipped tones, like a man biting out each word with unimaginable effort. 

‘If you have something to say, demon, say it now,’ Rama heard himself say. ‘For I will neither be duped by your asura sorcery nor by your web of illusions.’ 

Vali’s mouth fell open. The vanar gaped, then blinked and recovered. He shut his open mouth and his eyes narrowed sharply. He cocked his head, examining Rama with renewed interest. Gone now was the suave, effeminate charm. In its place there descended the curt directness of a man who had killed so many opponents that he no longer feared any enemy, not even Yamaraj, Lord of Death and the Underworld. 

‘Asura sorcery? Do you even know what that is,
mortal
?’ He spat the word out like an insult. ‘There is no such thing. All shakti comes from Brahman itself. It is the user who subverts it for one purpose or another. That which displeases the devas, they term ‘asura’. In fact, it is the same Brahman power, no better, no worse, neither good nor bad, neither evil nor pure, for the raw power of the universe has no morality or dharma— it simply is. But because some beings or some action displeases the devas, they term them ‘asura’. After the original name of the devas, ‘sura’, so anyone who opposed the devas became ‘a-sura’ or ‘against the devas’. Yes, I possess great shakti, and I do not hesitate to use it, just as you do not balk at using your wooden bow to fire a thin wooden missile at anyone who seeks to cause you harm. The only difference is that my Brahman shakti has taken a lifetime to accumulate and master, and great sacrifices. While any Kshatriya can be taught to wield a bow.’ 

Rama felt the room wobble, then slowly try to right itself, but only partly succeed, as if it remained out of tune. He gripped the floor with his bare feet, but the deep-pile furs on which he stood made it impossible even to tell whether the floor had really moved or if he had only imagined it. Where was Lakshman? Hanuman? How long had he been up here? Was Angad dead? What would happen if he loosed the arrow now? Would Vali dismiss it with a flick of his hand, then use his sorcerous power to destroy Rama? He would not know unless he attempted it at least. He was no longer sure he could. The simple act of loosing this arrow seemed more daunting than climbing Mount Himavat, Lord of all the Mountains of the world. The bow in his hands felt heavier than the Bow of Shiva, which had taken five hundred men to drag on wooden wheels, and which he, under the influence of the shakti of the mahamantras Bala and Atibala, had hefted with one hand. But he no longer possessed that shakti. Just as he no longer possessed Sita. 

Vali cocked his head the other way and listened. After a moment, he raised his hand and flicked his painted nails in a brief contemptuous gesture. Then he brushed a lock of blond hair streaked with white from off his forehead and looked at Rama. ‘They are unable to enter this chamber. I have barred their way. Your brother and your newfound vanar friend are desperate to get to you. They are screaming and howling with frustration, battering wooden walls with all their strength, unable to understand why they cannot get through.’ 

Vali took three steps towards Rama. ‘Just as you are screaming in frustration at your inability to get Sita back. Because you know, in your heart, that even this whole vanar army of Kiskindha, my good-hearted monkey-men relatives, are no match for the rakshasa hordes of Lanka. You know that Ravana would not have snatched Sita thus in broad daylight if he thought that any army, mortal or otherwise, could invade Lanka and defeat him. He was defeated once by you, thirteen years ago. He will not be humiliated again.’