The Aryavarta Chronicles Kaurava: Book 2 (11 page)

‘Are these your words, Sanjaya, or the Vyasa’s?’

‘They are not Vyasa Markand’s – for these affairs are not his area of comfort or expertise. Which is why my former master – the Vyasa Dwaipayana – has still left political counsel to my care. And I believe, as he does, that power must have checks and balances. Syoddhan can be the balance. But for that to happen, he must grow and come into his own. There are those, especially at Hastina, who have held power for far too long. They may need a gentle hand to guide them towards letting go. Your influence in this would be most invaluable, and, if I may be so bold as to point out, to your son’s benefit.’

‘And who at Hastina is it you speak of as needing guidance? There are two old men here who would fit the description well. One fancies himself king and the other
is
king. Neither knows what it means to age with grace!’

Sanjaya did not reply in words, but let his expression show acknowledgement. He knew he had played the move well. Dron prided himself on letting his young students rise to excellence. Often, he drew attention to the fact that when he had won Northern Panchala from King Dhrupad, he had installed Asvattama on the throne of Ahichhattra instead of taking the crown for himself – unlike Bhisma and Dhritarastra, who hung on to the Kuru throne as Regent and king, respectively.

‘Well,’ Dron continued, ‘I’ll do what I can to prod the old ones to let go. At the least, I shall support Syoddhan’s ventures. He will prove himself in no time!’

‘Thank you, Acharya. I’m most grateful. This isn’t a duty I could have ever hoped to discharge on my own!’

Laughing, Dron gave Sanjaya a benevolent pat on his shoulder before walking away.

Sanjaya waited till he was sure Dron was gone, before moving towards the stairway from which Asvattama had earlier emerged. He entered the dungeons, ignoring the sounds and smells, the omnipresence of pain, flesh and blood that came at him from its bowels. He was not a man of violence and he did not regret it in the least. He considered killing a menial function, one of many tasks that could be delegated and seen through successfully if one held true power. True power, he knew, came from the mind. It was this knowledge that had fed his grudge and his dream for all these years. The sense of undeniable superiority where it mattered had led him to aspire to use the Firewrights, to one day lead them despite never having been trained as one. He was determined to take what was rightfully his by sheer force, his kind of force.

He made his way to one of the smaller cells set in what could be considered the best corner, noting that the air was cleaner here, and it was just that much brighter. He found Devala inside, pacing, rubbing at his manacled wrists. ‘Oh Rudra! Don’t tell me they still haven’t taken that off you! Guard! Guard! Come here at once!’ Devala watched, a little curious, as Sanjaya had him unchained.

‘It’s bad enough we have to keep you here for a while longer,’ Sanjaya continued, as soon as the guard was out of earshot. ‘Chains aren’t needed. It’s not like you’re going to do anything I don’t want you to.’

Devala chuckled at the implied threat, but took no offence. ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘It made for a good show in front of that fool who was just here. Treacherous bastard! May he wander the earth an accursed being for a thousand centuries! Men like him deserve to rot alive, the pompous fool! He knows nothing, but pretends he commands us all. You should have seen the hunger in his eyes when I mentioned the Naga-weapon.’

‘Hunger? The look in Jayadrath’s eyes when he mentioned
you
was sheer gluttony! But getting back to Asvattama, don’t underestimate him. You think that you’ve interrogated him? I assure you, he’s the one who’s interrogated you and you didn’t even realize it.’

‘His ambition is plain enough, Sanjaya. He wants power. He wants Agniveshya’s weapon even more than any one of those sons-of-whores kings do. The bait has been placed. But I think he knows nothing about this new Secret Keeper. In fact, he was so blinded with anger by the end of our conversation that the conceited muhira did not even realize what I was talking about.’

Sanjaya frowned. ‘I’m not so sure it’s as simple as that. But yes, the bait has been well placed. Asvattama is ambitious, but he is far from stupid and his loyalties have always been divided. He served the Vyasa well enough, far too well, in fact. In any case, the seeds of his downfall have been laid. He won’t last long.’

‘How?’

‘His father. The only thing more dangerous than not being trusted by the man who sired you, is being hated by the one you’ve sired. I should know. Be ready, you’ll need to go to work soon. How long do you think it will take?’

‘To completely refit an army? That will take months. But I can make modifications to any conventional weaponry within two or three days. Why, I remember, I had Sudakshin fire up a hundred small forges just to heat and remove the tip off all his men’s arrows to create the crescent shape that keeps the skin open so that the enemy bleeds to death from just a flesh wound.’

‘I can tell you now that you will be dealing with Danava mercenaries.’

‘That lot is a pleasure to work with. Show them any gruesome way to kill and they pick it up like trained monkeys at a village fair. I’ll equip them all right.’

‘Good. Now remember, at no point should anyone suspect my involvement in this affair. As far as they are concerned, you are the last Firewright, yes? Don’t worry…you will be treated well by Saubha. Still, be careful. Don’t outstay your utility, or reveal all your tricks just yet. And don’t be seen at Dwaraka. Your involvement must remain known only to those who think themselves either benefitted or condemned by it, for only they will have cause to keep it a secret.’

Devala nodded. He was still a little stunned by the turn of events. ‘Are you sure this will work? How did you get them to agree to this?’ he asked.

‘Getting them to agree was simple enough. Jayadrath and his allies have much to gain if they can take Dwaraka down, especially in these newly prosperous times. The port of Dwaraka is the key to the future, to trade and wealth. He was very easily motivated, as was King Saubha, weeks earlier.’

‘They have much to gain once Dwaraka is gone.’

‘Who doesn’t?’

‘I meant economically and politically, not in terms of moral satisfaction.’

‘That too,’ Sanjaya affirmed. ‘But to be on the safe side, I’ve personally ensured that Dharma’s legislators have been putting forward proposals which are just ambiguous enough to seem incursive on the sovereignty of the more sensitive kings. But the gods smile on us, Devala – something in those edicts has inspired Empress Panchali to present a controversial proposal of her own… To remove taxes on Naga iron-work so that their craft will spread.’

Devala’s usually bitter expression softened. ‘She’s a good woman. Honestly believes in what the Wrights stood for. Unfortunately, she’s also rather malleable, as Govinda Shauri knew well…’

‘It’s a quality we can put to use, just as he did.’

‘But this proposal, this idea of removing taxes on Naga-made goods – you must admit, it has a certain appeal. It’s not too different from what Agniveshya had hoped for, or what I myself would have wanted had I been the one to teach the Nagas the metal craft of the Wrights.’

‘I agree. But that is precisely the point. We were not the ones to teach them their skills, nor are we the ones now to hasten their rise. If the power of the Firewrights is to remain in our hands, Devala, so must their knowledge. Now, more than ever, the need for secrecy and caution is upon us. Only if we centralize all knowledge in the hands of a few can we control Aryavarta’s destiny. We must make ourselves indispensable to Aryavarta’s monarchs – the new generation of rulers, mind you, not these old dotards that were happy to let the Firstborn spit on them! Let the old die quietly. We will be the might, no, the masters of the new breed of kings that rule Aryavarta. And for this greater good that we will bring to this realm, sacrifices must be made. In this case, the Nagas will just have to continue to play the role they have for decades. I’m sure they must have got accustomed to being used by now.’

With a nod that served to acknowledge but not quite yield, Devala said, ‘So, Dwaraka?’

‘Yes, Dwaraka. I doubt we could stop that particular storm even if we wanted to.’

‘And after that?’

‘After that? Hunger and fear, my friend. Hunger and fear.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Dwaraka will fall, after which it’s only a matter of time before these great kings start bickering amongst themselves, hungry to call the might of the Firewrights their own while fearful of the powers their neighbours may wield. And then, our time begins. One by one, they will seek us out. And, soon, the sound of hammer against iron and the scrape of molten metal against anvil will fill the air of every kingdom in this so-called empire. Aryavarta will never be the same again.’

Devala sneered, ‘Now who’s making the mistake of underestimation? You misjudge Govinda Shauri.’

‘On the contrary, it is you who underestimate Govinda Shauri. I, on the other hand, know what he is capable of. He’s not an idiot. He was one of Ghora’s best students, or so it was said.’

‘Much was said, not all of it deserving.’

Sanjaya gazed indulgently at the Firewright before him. Devala’s anger reminded him of his own, of how, in the past, he would openly question Govinda’s intentions and competence only to have Dwaipayana indulge him with explanations. He thought back to those days, those long years of playing the obedient acolyte as he gently guided the Vyasa’s hand, allowing him to let Govinda build this empire. An empire that Sanjaya would now use for his own purposes. The notion made him feel important, benevolent and wary all at once.

It was the first of the two feelings that led him to explain, ‘Govinda’s plan to create an empire and take control of Aryavarta was not a bad one, and it would be folly to think otherwise. He had the foresight to set into motion a mighty chain of events, one that ended with Dharma Yudhisthir occupying the imperial throne. But that was his singular mistake. He chose
Dharma Yudhisthir
.’

‘He chose Panchali. If only she’d been born a man…’

‘Then he wouldn’t have chosen her at all. In the name of Agni, stop thinking of Govinda as an idea. He is a man. All men have weaknesses. As for Dharma, once Dwaraka falls…’

‘But will it fall?’ Devala still sounded unconvinced.

‘My dear Devala, you astound me. Is it your own skill as a Wright you doubt or…? You are going to help arm Saubha’s forces yourself. How can Dwaraka not fall?’

‘I doubt my mother’s virtue when it comes to anything related to Govinda Shauri. Call him a man, an idea, or whatever you like. I’d prefer to call him dead.’

Sanjaya considered the statement. ‘You have a point. Dwaraka may be more vulnerable and easier to take down if Govinda is out of the way.’ He was silent for a while and then said, ‘Once you are done equipping Saubha’s forces, find Govinda and finish him off. He has been wandering Aryavarta ever since the Coronation. Kill him before he reaches Dwaraka.’

‘That’s nothing. I know where the dramatic fool will end up, sooner or later. But, there is one last thing…?’

In answer to the unspoken question, Sanjaya said, ‘Asvattama? He won’t come after you. You’ll be released on Syoddhan’s secret orders, as it were, so he won’t be a problem. Nor will the old pair of king and Regent. But still, remember to be discreet.’

‘What about Syoddhan? I did not see that particular bull being so easily tamed with fire but, clearly, I’ve underestimated you.’

Sanjaya ignored the compliment, though he was hardly displeased. ‘He still has his doubts, but once Dwaraka is his it will be too late for him to change his mind about us. Saubha and Jayadrath will present arguments that Syoddhan cannot refute – not if he wishes to rule. And in the same vein, if Saubha and Jayadrath wish to remain persuasive forces, they will need us and our weapons. Either way, Aryavarta will be ours.’

Devala grinned maliciously at the thought. ‘Well done! Rational and methodical. I like that in a man.’

‘Of course I’m rational and methodical. I’m a Firewright.’

10

THE TEMPERAMENTAL SUMMER BREEZE WHISTLED THROUGH THE
trees on the verdant hillside and sang over the water of the nearby stream. Occasionally, it came forth as a forceful gust, picking up just a touch of spray from the foam-flecked surface and landing as drops of sunlight on the grassy banks. Satisfied, it ebbed for a few moments, allowing birdsong to occasionally fill the air, till it decided it was time to resume its performance and rushed back to the trees and the water.

Govinda Shauri smiled, enjoying its cool, playful touch. He ran his fingers lightly through his dark, wavy hair, pushing it off his face with a contented sigh. The grass he lay on felt soft and scratchy on his bare back, tickling a particular spot along his spine. He could smell the freshness of the forest around him. In the silence, welcoming and comfortable, he could hear the forest breathe. Drawing in his fill of the crisp air, he revelled in a sea of simple, acute sensations. These forests, these lush glades and the sparkling river – this was where he had played as a child, fought and loved as a man, lived as a cowherd and a prince. This was the heart of Aryavarta, the land that he loved and revered.

This was where he had become who he was.

A Firewright.

Govinda was not one to indulge in reminiscence, for it got in the way of his dispassion. He simply remembered, his mind bringing to life images and scenes in a clear, ordered fashion.

He had been about eighteen when, disillusioned with his new life as the Prince of Mathura, he had sought out the Sramanas, a sect of dark mystics. Following their ways, he had tested his body and mind to the limits of endurance, fasting for days on end, standing in the rain and the sun without so much as twitching a muscle, daring to lie on the ashes of cooling pyres embracing the bones of the dead. He had imagined his own death time and again, till it held no fear, no fascination, just an unruffled acceptance of mortality, oblivious to individual existence. He had been alive, but hardly sentient. He breathed, he ate if fed, and he never slept.