The Rise of Hastinapur (26 page)

The charred twine dropped to the ground in dust, and the air filled with the smell of burning flesh, but the sage’s hands were their usual smooth brown. Soon there was no string wrapped around the fingers, only lines of fire, and Durvasa’s eyes looked on at the priest in front of him, who had knelt down and joined his hands. The sage’s lips bent in a crooked half-smile, and his blue eyes were now a deep, scorching yellow.

He extracted his fingers from within the rings of fire, and on another soft breath from his lips, the holes disappeared and became solid balls, one on each hand. He turned his fingers around them, as if soothing them, caressing them, and they went from swirling angrily to turning tamely, and the surface of the balls began to harden even as the yellow molten liquid threatened to spill out and swallow the house. Short orange sparks flew out, bounced a couple of times on the mud floor, and died.

Durvasa held his hands out to the priest. ‘Would you like to hold them, sir?’

The priest shook his head in terror, and Pritha saw that his face was drenched in sweat. She licked her lips and tasted salt on her tongue. She ran her hand over her forehead and saw that it glistened in the orange light of Durvasa’s hands. His mouth took on the shape of a small circle once again, and with two soft exhales of breath, he fired up the balls, and looking around, he spotted a heap of wet teak beams in the corner.

He allowed his hands to rest, and with a gentle roll, as though he were setting a wheel in motion, he sent the balls crashing into the beams. Pritha felt as though the breath inside her was being sucked out, as the fire closed in on one beam now, and then on a single point, which the sage pulled out with his right hand. Rolling his fingers under the ball so that it could stay suspended in mid-air, he turned to face the priest. The priest cowered like a frightened mouse and shook his head. A son of the Destroyer, was he? Or the sun himself?

Pritha fell to her knees, intending to prostrate herself at the feet of the sage, but the moment she hit the ground she lost consciousness.

‘Pritha?’

She opened her eyes with a start, and found that her hand was wrapped around Durvasa’s, and it was cold with sweat. She sat up with a start and leaned back against the beam. He held out a vessel of water for her. She took a sip.

‘Kurusti here has agreed to take us to the High Priest, Pritha,’ said Durvasa, nodding at the younger man, who squatted on his haunches in the corner. ‘If you are well enough, we shall start immediately and get there before nightfall.’

Pritha nodded groggily and got up.

TEN

‘I
must ask for your forgiveness for the words I used before, my lord,’ said Kurusti, after they had settled into his chariot. It was better than Nabha’s, Pritha noticed; for one, the cart was drawn not by oxen but by two young, healthy mares. Kurusti tapped his charioteer on the shoulder and whispered something in his year, and upon a nod and a call to his horses, the vehicle lurched forward.

‘I keep some dates and apples in my chariot, in case I have to leave in a hurry; the lady can have them if she so wishes.’ He bowed in her direction. All his authority and derision was gone; now he was the very picture of deference. He said to Durvasa, ‘When I set eyes upon you, my lord, I told myself that you were no ordinary being. May the gods cut off my tongue for the vile things I said to you.’

Durvasa said, ‘I have already forgiven you, Kurusti. I only pray that you forgive yourself in a hurry.’

Kurusti joined his hands together. ‘I must do penance for this. Tell me, sir, how many years have you spent studying the Mystery of the fire?’

‘Not I, Kurusti,’ said Durvasa, ‘my forefathers. I only reap the benefits of their toil.’

‘But you are young, my lord, perhaps even younger than I am! How did you achieve such dexterity in your hands, such knowledge of the elements…’

‘I come from the mountains up north, and I belong to a family who studies the Mysteries. We have ways by which we transfer our knowledge to our successors.’

‘Like we write them down in books.’

‘Yes, except we do not use parchment for this purpose.’ Durvasa paused, and Pritha felt that he was weighing his words, groping for the right ones. ‘We have other means.’

‘The High Priest will be pleased to see you, I am certain,’ said Kurusti. ‘He must have retired to his bed now, the poor man, and he never sees people at such an hour unless absolutely necessary. But today, I think he shall make an exception.’

‘I hope so,’ said Durvasa, ‘because I am eager to know all about this little Mystery of yours, these black stones that plough your fields on their own.’

‘Aye, that is so.’ Kurusti closed his eyes and touched the palm of his right hand to his chest. ‘If it were not for that stone, Mathura would be nothing but a marshland from shore to shore. There would be no kingdom! And we shall not have our war barges, our trade with Magadha – nothing, sire, nothing on Mathura would be the same if it were not for these special stones.’

‘Who first wrote the Mystery?’

‘No one did, my lord, until now. The oldest of the Head Priests is a man we call Adhrigu, and it is said that the Mystery came to him when he was all of eight years old, which may have been almost fifty years ago.’

‘Came to him, did you say?’

‘Yes, that is how the tale goes. He was perched upon the shoulders of his father, and it was a windless day. He saw the lid of the water tumbler jump up and down, he said, with the fire burning away underneath. And then he thought perhaps if fire could be cast into water, then it would make the water move.’

Durvasa fell silent for a moment. All they heard was the clacking of the mares’ hooves on the hard ground. At last, he said, ‘Fire moves water.’

‘Aye, you saw that on our arch when you entered the city, no doubt,’ said Kurusti. ‘The boy Adhrigu then probed the Mystery his own way, playing with vessels of water at his mother’s fireplace. By the time he was thirteen, he had in his hands a fully functional black stone, they say, and on the day he came to show it to High King Ugrasena, there was much jubilation in the court, by peasants and noblemen alike!’

‘I dare say,’ said Durvasa. ‘It was Mathura’s first Mystery, was it not?’

Kurusti nodded. ‘And he, our first High Priest. King Ugrasena wanted more priests to join him in the study of Mysteries, but then High King Kamsa came to the throne, and he had other plans. He set up a trade route with Magadha, and in return for our black stones, they give us grains, soldiers, and all the other things that you see here. We look as though we are wealthy, my lord, but our only wealth are these black stones.’

‘Ah, perhaps King Ugrasena was right. Perhaps you should have waited till you probed the Mystery deeply enough.’

Shrugging, Kurusti said, ‘Perhaps, but then people were starving, my lord. They were on the edge of revolt, and many were moving out too, to the Great Kingdoms of the East and the South. I say, what Kamsa did was right for Mathura, but then, you are not wrong, either. I know not.’

‘Yes,’ said Durvasa, ‘it is folly to look to the past. Now Mathura has grown strong to defend herself against the might of the Great Kingdoms. Perhaps that is evidence enough that Kamsa had been right.’

‘Ah,’ said Kurusti, looking out into the streets, where the lamps had begun to dim and the shutters had begun to descend. ‘If only it were that simple. We reached out too much too soon, one feels sometimes, and now, we have strong boats and our lands can be tilled without manual labour, but if we have to extend the stones to other things, we not only have to make them smaller, but stronger too.’

‘Well, why do you not plumb the Mysteries further?’

‘Where is the time, my lord? All the High Priests and regular priests and all the temples are not enough to supply Magadha with all the stones that she needs. We only have enough time to mend the broken ones and create new ones. Not even the High Priests have looked into the Book of Mysteries once in the last ten years, I dare say.

‘And now Adhrigu gasps and grunts on his bed. He has not breathed easy in five moons. Kamsa decrees that he must write down all that he knows into the Book of Mysteries, and believe me, he does try, but the old man has no strength in him any more. I wish that he was one of the black stones himself, and that he could go on living and ward off the lord of death.’

Durvasa asked, ‘Does no one else know how to create these stones?’

‘Adhrigu knows the most, sire, more than anyone else. They wanted to keep the Mysteries secret, you see, so even the priests know only a little. I know not what I should see if I were to open up this box, and I would love to learn, but not a day goes by without some or the other complaint from Magadha that their stones do not work as they’re supposed to!’

Pritha tore open the bag that Kurusti had pointed to earlier, and took out an apple. She borrowed Kurusti’s knife and cut it into three equal pieces. All three took a piece each. They had left the city long behind them now, and the smell in the air suggested to Pritha and that they were nearing the riverbank. Whether it was the Yamuna or the Ganga, though, she did not know.

She asked, ‘Do you know where King Kamsa imprisons his sister and his father?’

Kurusti narrowed his eyes at her. ‘I remember now why your face appeared familiar, Princess. You are the sister of the king of Shurasena, are you not?’

Pritha and Durvasa exchanged glances.

‘You need not worry,’ said Kurusti. ‘But I would think twice before asking that question of anyone else in the country, my lady. Kamsa’s guards have elephant-like ears, and they have informers everywhere. If you say that out loud in a crowded place, it will take you straight to the king.’

‘I am not scared of him,’ said Pritha firmly. ‘I would rather come face-to-face with him just so that I could spit in his face!’

Kurusti said, ‘I understand that Adhrigu prophesied that Devaki and Vasudev’s son will one day kill Kamsa. Perhaps you can ask him if he would consider taking his word back; perhaps only then Kamsa would relent and let his sister and her husband go.’ His eyes drooped a little, and his shoulders sagged. ‘But if Shurasena would become another ally to us and want some of our stones, I dare say our priests will be sucked to the bone.’

‘But you have not answered the question,’ she said. ‘Do you or do you not know where the prison is?’

Kurusti shook his head. ‘I do not, I’m afraid. But Adhrigu may – you should ask him. They say it is up on the hill to the north-west, on the very tip of the kingdom, surrounded on three sides by the water of the Ganga. If it is true, I would say the fourth side would be guarded heavily with men carrying weapons.’ He inclined his head toward her in a fatherly manner. ‘Not quite the place for a maiden such as you, my lady.’

They got off hard land now and rode into sand and mud, and Pritha could hear the wheels of the chariot spray back murky water as it sped ahead. Only the fires mounted on either side of the charioteer provided enough light. Kurusti raised his hand to his forehead and stared into the darkness. ‘I think we are approaching,’ he said.

The inner sanctum of the High Temple was different from Kurusti’s house only in size, and in the number of candles that had been lit all over the room. Pritha felt the same stifling heat on her ears, and the same layer of sweat bathing her body. As they walked in, a boy looked at them curiously, whispered something to Kurusti and ran away, motioning them to stay where they were. After a few minutes he returned to the doorway and gestured. When all of them stood up, he motioned to Pritha and Durvasa to sit down, and only asking Kurusti to come to him.