[Fair warning : This chapter has death and descriptions of blood and gore. If you aren't comfortable with that please skip it, the description is not required to understand the story....... just note who dies - that bit is important!😉]
It is power that is coveted, it is knowledge that is
hoarded, it is weapons that are honed and it is people that must be beaten.
Uncommon terms:
haldi - Turmeric, referred to as Haldi in Hindi.
kumkum - Kumkum is a red or pink powder used in Indian culture, it is used for religious and social ceremonies.
Chapter 3
In a hidden dark corner of the
King’s palace, around a small hooded table, sat three masked figures. None of
the three figures moved, finally, the masked figure to the right yanked off her
mask, and revealed a scarred angry face. Her lips were pressed in a thin line
and her voice was brisk and commanding. She had the look of someone who had
gotten old not because of time but because of hardship. She was Lady Gandini of
House Kandota sworn to High House Vishyah, considered by many a grumpy war
veteran.
“If this alliance is to work I
will need you weaklings to actually show your faces” she snapped glaring at the
other two.
“We are not weaklings Lady
Gandini, we are simply cautious, if you had been so yourself perhaps you would
not have been graced by so many scars.” The voice was deep, irritated and
sharp, it belonged to Lord Shakra of House Reti, sworn to High House Nishath.
Shakra was a small mongoose like man, and when irritated he would twitch like
one too. He was never not irritated.
The figure to the far left
removed her mask to reveal an old soft pudgy face, overdone with makeup and
jewellery, smiling in amusement. Lady Magha of House Shukti, sworn to High
House Karmisht was a pudgy, greedy, lazy old woman who excelled in getting her
way by doing nothing. “Shall we talk of things that are more important? For
instance, how exactly do we all plan to overthrow the other Houses and gain
favour of whichever High House wins this bloodbath? We do have an alliance
after all.” Her voice had an old papery quality followed by a sickly sugar
sweetness that only a glutton could muster.
Shakra watched Magha for a minute,
“I do have some rather potent and untraceable poisons with me, enough for at
least four people–
“How dare you even propose such a
thing!” Gandini’s voice had taken a screechy quality, she looked torn between
disgust and outrage, “we are not weaklings and hidden thieves to hide behind
means such as poison, we will attack them upfront and ensure them an honourable
death!”
“Lady Gandini we are hidden
thieves waiting to take away their power! there is no such thing as an
honourable death.” Shakra was twitching in irritation.
Magha was leaning back against
her chair, watching the two argue, her eyes followed them back and forth, and
she sighed, if only she had put in more effort she might have managed to make a
better alliance, but she never had been good at putting in effort. Magha pulled
out a pack of food and waited for the other two tire themselves out. Once they
were done, it would be easy to manipulate them the way she wanted.
***************************
The blood dripped down from the
corners of the hexagonal table and fell, bleeding into the white carpet. The
sharp metallic smell of drying blood filled the room as the blood continued to
ooze out of the mutilated body, which and been torn and shredded beyond any
recognition. The blood, body, bones, flesh and cloth had been spread across the
table in a minced mess. Only the head was intact, the grey and bluish face of
Lady Nishath stared up with hollow, haunted, vacant eyes at the ceiling.
Anala looked at the body, the
mutilation, “I officially assume the role of Head of High House Nishath.” He
turned on his heel and walked out.
Ida sharply gestured to the
terrified servants, “clean this up.”
Aadrika watched as the servants moved in, trembling
and green, “I suppose we halt all meetings till the room is properly cleaned
and aired.”
“Yes we do” Catura glanced
sideways at Ida, Rukira and Aadrika, “do excuse me, I'm rather late for
breakfast.”
Catura left followed by Ida and
Aadrika who stiffly made their way to
their quarters, nobody addressed the odd solid stillness in the room but they
all heard Lady Rukira drop the bombshell to the low Houses as she flourished
towards her quarters, “Lady Kamana has been murdered by a mage.”
*****************************
Aadrika paced in her room, her thoughts churning,
somebody had a mage, and that mage had just murdered Kamana. It made sense to
her that Anala, realising the futility of keeping Kamana as figure head, had
come to his senses and ordered Kamana murdered. What didn’t make sense
was why he had ordered a mage to do it. Kamana was not a strong or powerful, a
shove and a knife would have been enough to kill her. And everybody would have
accepted it too, the girl was fated to die.
Aadrika couldn’t discern a logical reason for Anala
to make an example of Kamana and murder her this way. If he had been the one to
get her killed. The more Aadrika thought
about it, the less likely it seemed that Anala would make such an error.
Aadrika paused her pacing, breathing hard, something
about all this didn’t sit right, it tugged at her consciousness, she was
missing something. Aadrika turned and
looked at the entrance of her room, she looked at the hidden compartment that
contained her plans, she looked at the room all around her, rich and opulent, a
room fit for a High House Head. She looked at the tightly barred door of her
room again.
Aadrika made her decision.
*************************
Ida sat in his quarters, in his
chair, absolutely still. A mage had killed Kamana, and since he couldn’t see
Anala making such a mistake it had to be somebody else. Ida frowned, he
couldn’t see any other the remaining High House Heads making such a mistake either,
especially since Kamana was never worth killing, her death didn’t change
anything, it had no significance, symbolic or otherwise.
Symbolic….
Ida straightened in his chair,
his thoughts turned and came to rest on Aadrika, young, in fact, the youngest
of them all, inexperienced and new. According to his spies she had hanged the strongest
low house head in her domain before
coming to assist the king, a symbolic killing designed to demonstrate strength.
Ida frowned, no, it still didn’t make sense, Aadrika, seemed too smart to make
such an error, which left only one option.
One of the low houses had a mage.
Ida twirled a quill in his finger.
Mulling the thought. The more he considered it, the more sense it made. A low
house had a mage and being characteristically stupid the house head wanted to
become a High House. So he makes a statement, an error, by murdering Kamana.
The quill stopped, Ida watched the ink drip, it was either this or Anala had
found himself a motive he couldn’t figure out.
Ida dropped the quill and walked
over to his cupboard, carefully hidden from sight. He knew what to do.
***************************
Anala watched the candlelight
dance and flicker, somebody had killed Kamana, some mage. He thought about how
the body had been mutilated, about how dead her head had looked, about how she
would never get a proper funeral, and felt a flush of pleasure and anger.
Anger because he hadn’t been the
one behind her death, because he hadn’t been there when she died and pleasure
because it felt like an act of revenge against her parents who had denied him
his right to rule over the High House for so, so long.
Anala savoured the memory of
Kamana’s mutilated body; her death, and his pleasure grew and drowned the
meagre sparks of anger.
Now Kamana was dead, the stupid
girl’s parents were dead, and he had High House Nishath all for himself.
Sitting alone in his quarters
with only candlelight for company Anala began to laugh. Yes, he liked the death
of Kamana very much.
*************************
Aadrika sat on the floor of her room, dressed in a
utilitarian and comfortable pant and kurta, surrounded by pieces of glass,
metal and pure flakes of silver. She sat and focused, instantly there was calm
peaceful stillness in her mind, with razor sharp focus. Her lips parted and
moved soundlessly,
“अहंगूढशक्तिबलानाम् आज्ञापयामिस्वस्यगुणंबहिः।
सद्भावंगृहाण
गुणान्गृहाण
विशेषाणिगृहाण
काचधातुरजतंच।
तानिस्वकीयानिकुरु, ममकृतेददातु।
तेषुमांआवृत्यस्थापयतु।
अदृश्यंमांकुरु।“
All round Aadrika an eerie silent tornado began to build, the
glass metal and silver disintegrated and got swept up by the soundless wind and
attacked Aadrika, darting inwards and fusing with her skin. The tornado spun
harder and abruptly disappeared.
Aadrika sat still, her eyes closed, encased in glass,
metal and silver.
Her eyes flashed open.
She disappeared.
****************************
Ida sat on the chair and
looked at the desk in front of him, there was a ring of atta around a foot in
radius, decorated with haldi, kumkum and a black paste that smelled strangely
of incense. Inside the ring lay a pure, white, opaque sheet of milk. Ida gently
extracted a strip of cloth from inside his pocket and placed it in the ring.
The sheet of milk rippled.
Ida focused and a peaceful
stillness filled his mind, his lips parted and moved soundlessly,
“आज्ञापयामि
गूढशक्तिबलानि स्वगुणात्।
अस्य खण्डस्य
उत्पत्तिः दर्शिता भविष्यति
अस्य खण्डस्य
स्वामी दर्शितः भविष्यति
अन्तरिक्षकालयोः
माध्यमेन एकं खिडकं उद्घाटितं भविष्यति।
यत् अहं
द्रष्टुम् इच्छामि तत् मम कृते दर्शितं भविष्यति।“
The haldi, kumkum and black paste
bled into the milk which swirled and started to glow like moonlight. A vacuum
seemed to form in the room emanating from the ring, the piece of cloth
disintegrated and glow grew brighter and brighter till the milk disappeared and
the hexagonal meeting room appeared.
The ring of atta looked like it
was made of moonlight, all traces of haldi, kumkum and the black paste had
disappeared.
Ida watched the hexagonal room
through the rip he had made in the fabric of the material world, he waited
silently, and was very well rewarded by the entrance four masked figures.
**********************
Aadrika moved through the palace, silent, invisible.
Unseen and unheard by all. She would be safe as long as her spell would last,
and she knew by practice, it would last long.
Aadrika had only one goal in mind, king Kedar’s
private quarters. He might not be as senile as the spies had been led to
believe, but he definitely was slipping in mental soundness, her best chance of
finding some clue to his plans would be in his quarters.
Aadrika reached the king's wing and quietly slipped inside,
she walked through the dark passageways, her feet automatically finding their
way, she focused on her surroundings, the King’s wing was certainly richer and
more opulent that the rest of the palace, marble, ivory, gold, silver and
jewels. She followed the path she had memorised and made her way to the king’s
private quarters.
Nothing in the King’s wing was
locked for the king had nothing to fear, and since the king was away on war
there were no soldiers or servants. Nevertheless, traversing the opaque dark corridor of the King's wing made Aadrika shiver in anticipation. Her adrenaline was high and the electric spark of apprehensive excitement that flickered through her spine made her feel very alive.
As Aadrika moved towards the King’s private chamber,
every step bringing her closer, she started to enjoy herself, the kind of
enjoyment that comes with doing something dangerous with an exhilarating
practiced and confident air, the air of self-assurance. It was moments like
these that made the life of a High House Head worthwhile.
The door to the king’s private
chamber gave away and Aadrika stepped
in, shutting the heavy door behind her. Excitement lighting up her eyes,
Aadrika got to work and started to take
apart just about everything in the enormous chamber.
She lit up the place with a
simple spell, and started to vet the room for secret chambers, combing every
single spot carefully, doing her best to leave nothing out, analysing
everything.
************************
The milky shafts of moonlight
filtered through the coloured glass chandeliers and splayed across the room in
a beautiful translucent whispery web, the candles had long since burned down,
their scent hung in the air along with a stillness.
Lady Rukira of High House
Karmisht sat in her chair at the head of the east wing’s courtroom, her rust
coloured hair had spread itself, free from its braid. Apart from this infraction Lady Rukira looked ready to deliver a death sentence, she stared vacantly out
the window, her swallow face devoid of any emotion.
Footfalls echoed in the empty
court, as the darkness seemed to part, and an old weathered man stepped into
the coloured light. He was old with bloodshot eyes, a sullen nose and a lanky
frame achieved from undereating. He stank faintly of liquor.
The old man staggered a bow,
“Lord Siraka of House Rakta, your ladyship, sworn to High House Nishthavan.” He
staggered and smelt of liquor, but his voice was clear and strong, the voice of
a man in his senses. Over the years Lord Siraka had developed a sort of
immunity to liquor and could now hold an abnormal amount without getting drunk.
Rukira’s eyes flickered towards
him, sharp, hard, burning with a sudden unprovoked anger. Siraka straightened
himself, “I have come in her ladyship’s presence to pledge allegiance to High
House Karmisht.”
Rukira looked at him, her eyes
smouldering, nothing else giving anything
away, “is that so?”
Siraka looked up, “yes Lady
Karmisht, I will not follow the orders of a pompous child, instead I will stand
by High House Karmisht and serve it so that it may rise to glory.”
Rukira looked at the old man, a
sudden sharp hatred and anger rose in her, she wanted to strike and kill this
little man right away. To hears his screams echo in the walls, to see his pain,
to feel the hope die from him. She wanted to kill him.
Her eyes blazed, “High House
Karmisht accepts your allegiance, await orders.”
Siraka left.
Lady Rukira felt burnt inside.
***************************
The four figures stood there
still, on four different corners of the table and looked at each other. They
were all masked. They watched each other’s masks and stood still and silent.
Ida watched rapt with attention.
None of the figures moved.
As Lord Ida watched to masked
statues through the rip. The hair of his arm and neck started to tingle,
standing up as if pulled by static electricity. His ears and nose itched. An
uneasy feeling spread in his stomach. His body started to sweat but it felt
more like slime.
He stared through the rip.
Abruptly the rip closed, the atta
was over.
The moonlight disappeared.
Ida jerked back in his chair,
breathing hard, feeling sick. He knew what those feelings meant; he knew them
very well. He thought of those figures in the
room. They were communicating magically. It was a tricky, messy magical
process that left a lot of spell residue.
Ida’s breathing slowed and his
mind stopped panicking. He felt soaked.
That’s why they had chosen the
hexagonal room, any magical residue would have been attributed to Kamana’s
death, there was already so much spell residue there that even Rukira, Aadrika, Anala and Catura could feel it. Ida’s mind worked. Whichever this low house was, they were smart, but
that was not very surprising, mages were closely held and their abilities were
fanatically guarded, obsessively practised and honed. Moreover if this house
had managed to keep the mage from its High House, he would be no fool.
So this house was planning
something, but who was he giving instructions too? For a second Ida considered
the possibility of there being more than one mage, and them immediately
dismissed the thought, that would be beyond rare and impossible to hide.
Then who was the mage
instructing? What were they planning? What were they going to do? if the mage
was giving instructions, and was doing it through spells, then either he was
the House Head or was properly indebted. That meant that somebody out there was
dangerous.
But who? What were they planning?
How was he going to come out on top?
Ida felt worn out, sick, slimy
and wrung. He looked at the spot where his rip had been.
He got up and left for a bath.
**************************
Aadrika panted, tired, wrung out, exhausted. She had
ripped the king’s room apart, and had found nothing. Nothing.
She sat on the floor, leaning
against the high bed, staring at the ruined room in bitter hatred. Her spell
was also wearing out. It was hot and she couldn’t stop sweating, hours of
labour and she had found nothing. There was no clue in the King’s
quarters of his plans.
Frustration mounting Aadrika sprang of the ground and started to pace,
unable to contain herself. There had to be something here that indicated at the
king’s plan. Something, anything. The king had definitely planned their
confinement, there had to be a reason why.
He had left them all in here and gone to war –
War…..
Aadrika looked up sharply, they had gone to war. The
king was leading the army to war, and had locked them all up to prevent an
uprising against his throne. If that was the case then, according to age old
tradition and custom, the king would have initiated the war with a spell and a
feast, a celebration that flaunted the king’s might and the royal mages.
That had not happened this time, the
king had left in quite a hurry, but why? Moreover the king’s room bore no sign
of war preparation and it did bear signs of beginning senility.
It was precious little to go on,
but Aadrika had a feeling that the
strange manner of this war, with the king personally leading it, and the manner
of the king’s rather shocking departure was because of the king’s plan.
Dismissing it as his senility had been wrong.
Still lost in thought,
Aadrika quickly casted a spell to
restore the King’s room, and slipped out hurrying away to her own, her spell
was wearing out but she knew where she had to go next.
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