Chapter 41: Malini

MALINI

They made their way to the triveni. Here, Malini could smell smoke. Hear far-off sounds—like voices, wailing.

“I can guide you down,” said Priya.

Malini looked down at the Hirana, over the edge of the triveni. The surface was uneven, all slick edges, sharp crags. The last time she’d climbed the Hirana, she’d had a guiding rope and guards to keep her alive. But the parts of the Hirana below her had no rope. Even with Priya beside her, she felt a nauseous swoop in her stomach.

“I suppose there’s no other way,” she murmured.

“No,” said Priya. “Not anymore.”

Malini steeled herself. She had to do this, if she wanted to be free. And to die by a fall rather than by poison or fire would be—novel. At least there was that.

She let Priya take her hand. Her first step was on ground that was treacherous and fragile. She felt as if she stood on a broken shell with nothing but a void beneath it. Then the surface steadied beneath her feet. Moss seeped up between her toes. She swallowed, and fixed her eyes on Priya’s face.

“Tell me where to place my feet.”

“Just follow me,” Priya said. “That’s it. Just like that.”

The breeze swirled around them. On it she smelled burning once more.

She kept her eyes on Priya and followed.

“That’s it,” Priya said, in a voice like the wind through leaves. Perhaps she intended it to be soothing. It was—not. Not exactly. “Quicker, if you can.”

“I can’t,” Malini ground out.

She wanted to explain to Priya how little strength she had. But there was a sudden whistling noise in her ears, and a thud, and Priya swore, her grip slipping. An arrow had landed in the ground by their feet. Malini flinched, fighting the instinct to curl into a ball or worse, throw herself backward. She teetered for a moment, supporting her own weight, balanced on nothing but one small outcrop of rock.

Another arrow hissed through the air and Malini jumped to escape it.

The ground gave with a snap and ah—she was stumbling, teetering for a second with nothing to steady her, meeting Priya’s horrified eyes. Fear jolted through her. She was going to fall. She dropped with a noiseless scream—

And was caught. Moss, like a netting at her back. Her heart was pounding, and she clasped one sweat-slippery hand on rock. Any rock. She could feel the moss hissing and forming behind her, knitting together with unnatural speed, cradling her body up.

“Priya.”

Priya was staring at her, openmouthed.

“I didn’t know I could do that,” she said faintly. And then, as if startling herself out of a stupor, she strode forward and heaved Malini back to her feet. She did not do it by physical strength alone, although Malini could feel the iron grip of her hands and see the way her jaw clenched as she strained to drag Malini back up; Malini could feel the green push too, as if it were an extension of Priya, responding to her movements.

She gripped Priya’s wrists.

“Don’t let go of me again,” she gasped.

“I won’t.”

“Even if we risk being skewered. Don’t let go.”

“I won’t.” Priya’s fingertips were gentle on Malini’s skin—on the race of her pulse. She tightened her grip, eyes on Malini’s. Her face was very gray. “I won’t,” she repeated.

They made their way down the Hirana. Slow, slow. Another arrow landed, and Priya swore violently and dragged Malini down to hunch against the rock. She bared her teeth—the only rage she’d shown since they began their descent—then drew Malini back to standing and continued to guide her.

“They’re not trying to hurt us,” Priya said to her in a low voice. “They’re trying to scare us into staying still so they can collect me. So we’ll survive this, Malini. I promise.”

Malini could have wept, when she felt steady soil beneath her feet once more. But she was not that sort of woman, so she merely gave Priya a nod and straightened her spine, looking toward the general’s mahal.

The mahal itself was well protected, with high, impassable walls. Like any busy mahal, it would usually be porous, with servants and visitors pouring in and out—but Malini could see that the work of shutting the way had begun swiftly. The lattice windows were black. On the roof stood archers, their arrow tips lit by flame.

Beyond the mahal the city of Hiranaprastha was burning. Smoke coiled in the air, a halo of it.

“One of them is here,” Priya said tightly. “No. More than that.” She was still holding Malini’s hands, and she gripped them even tighter for a moment before finally letting go. Then she turned, facing the open expanse of land, marked only by outcroppings of trees.

A shadow moved beneath the trunks of those trees. Just for a moment.

Malini stood very still, the wind whipping her hair.

Then, suddenly—there they were.

Two people wearing wooden masks, great fearsome carved faces, raced toward them. Priya shoved Malini gracelessly down against the ground, and Malini flattened without complaint. She did not want to die like this, not when freedom was so close, not when she had a chance of reaching Rao and Aditya and the vengeance she craved. And combat had never been her strength.

But it certainly was Priya’s. She moved with a snake’s venomous swiftness. She was not a tall woman, but there was strength in her shoulders, in the corded muscle of those arms. She caught the first rebel with a shoulder to the stomach, tackling them to the ground. The rebel was winded, but they recovered quickly, throwing a fist at Priya’s face.

She dodged, but the movement dislodged her hold, and the rebel was up, turning on her again. This punch didn’t miss. Priya was caught on her side and hit the ground hard. The masked rebel was on her, fists flying. And Malini was on her feet after all, propelled by some wild instinct, as if her meager strength would be enough to see either of these rebels away.

But Priya—Priya was laughing. The rebel paused, as their companion slowed to a stop behind them, no longer running to join the fray.

“If you kill me, the way will go with me,” Priya hissed. “If you kill me you all die, desperately sipping your vials.”

The rebel above Priya froze.

“I closed it,” she pushed on. “Hid it again. The way to the deathless waters is gone.”

The rebel hesitated a second longer.

The ground shook beneath their feet, huge thorns bursting from the sod. The standing rebel yelped, falling backward. A line of blood bloomed on their arm. The wood of the mask was scored with a white line of damage, dangerously close to the eye socket.

The smaller rebel—possibly a woman—had their hand open before them. As if that motion could hold the thorns back. And perhaps it could.

Upon the ground, those thorns were twisting, curling upon themselves.

“You’re not the only one with gifts.” Through the mask, their voice was hollow, distorted by wood. “I’m water-blessed too.”

“Vial-blessed,” Priya gritted out. “A dead thing walking. You won’t live long.”

If the rebel had any thoughts on that statement, their feelings were well hidden by the mask. “You could save us all, if you only showed us the way. We should be on the same side.”

“Tell your leader that,” said Priya. “You tell him he was the one who brought us to this point. Not me. I want what I’ve always wanted.” Priya did not move a hand, and the thorns slowly began to uncurl again, bristling. The movement was slow. Too slow.

“Your will isn’t stronger than mine,” said the rebel. “You are not a creature of conviction. You serve nothing.”

“I’m stronger than you think,” said Priya. And then the ground began to break beneath the rebels. The thorns bent in closer, menacing. “Your leader doesn’t want my corpse,” Priya said, as they struggled to maintain their balance. “We both know that. But me? I wouldn’t mind killing you at all. So my advice to you is simple: Run.”

They didn’t want to. That much was clear. But the sod was churning beneath them, new thorns creeping free like spindly fingers, clawed and curving. So they turned and made their scrambling retreat.

Priya did not even watch them go. She was panting, her arm already livid with bruising, staring at something beyond them. Malini followed the tilt of her head. Saw what Priya saw.

There was a man near the mahal. He was not moving toward them. Malini was not even sure he was watching. The eyes of his mask were black pits. He stood with a bow propped against his leg, making no move to use it. His head tilted back. Like an acknowledgment, or a challenge.

“Come,” muttered Priya, taking a step back. Another. Malini sucked in a breath and followed her.

It seemed it was now their turn to run.

They didn’t stand out in the city as Malini had feared they would, because the violence of the rebels and the equally violent response of the general’s soldiers had sown chaos. The wooden houses of Hiranaprastha had been no match for it. Soon they were darting through a burning maze of buildings. Even if Malini had not spent months trapped in a single room, she would have been overwhelmed by the scope and size of the madness.

As it was, all she could do was grit her teeth and force herself to keep moving, no matter how her body threatened to betray her. The crowd jostled her, the pressure crushing, and Priya gripped her tighter. “Don’t let go of me,” urged Priya. “Hold on to me like we’re still climbing down the Hirana. Just like that.”

“I can smell the fire,” Malini said, voice throttled by the taste of it and the memories it dredged up in her.

“I know,” said Priya. “I know.” She was blinking hard, her eyes streaming, the whites red from smoke. For the briefest moment, she was not looking at Malini but through her: caught up in the darkness of her own past. “Don’t think of it.” She tightened her grip. “We can’t think of it. We need to keep moving.”

Priya led them on, a woman on a mission. Through narrow alleys and wide streets full of people and shouting and chaos. She gestured at Malini to cover her face with her pallu, to keep out the acrid scent, as Malini’s eyes streamed from the smell and the feel of the smoke. Keep moving, Malini told herself. Keep moving, you’re so close. We’re so close.

She could see the forest in the distance when Priya suddenly veered to the right, dragging Malini beneath the cover of a stone alcove. The crowds still surged by them.

Priya’s expression was resolute.

“You go,” said Priya. “Go to your loyal follower, whatever his name is. He’s waiting for you, under the bower of bones. I’ll tell you the way; it’s not far from here. Go and he’ll take you to your brother.”

“You think I can survive here alone?” Malini asked incredulously. “I have a high opinion of myself, I promise you, but I’m hardly capable of making my way through a burning city without dying.”

“We all learn this way,” said Priya.

“By hoping we won’t die, when the odds are thoroughly stacked against us?”

Malini did not mean it seriously, but Priya’s mouth was firm, her eyes solemn as she nodded.

“Yes,” said Priya.

“You asked me to make a promise,” Malini tried. “You asked me to make a vow to you, for the sake of your Ahiranya. Won’t you try to ensure that I live to see it fulfilled?”

Priya said, in a choked voice, “My friends are in the mahal.”

Her friends. Those other maidservants. Malini swallowed and said, calmly, “Then they’re behind strong walls, and as safe as they can possibly be.”

But Priya was not listening to her. “I have this power. This gift in me. And it’s stronger now than it will ever be again. I need to help them. If anything happens to them, I…”

“Are you stronger than every rebel attacking the mahal and burning this city combined?” Malini asked. “Are you more cunning, are you cleverer, better equipped, and better placed to conquer them?”

“You only want to convince me to do what you need of me.”

“Yes,” Malini acknowledged. “But that doesn’t make me wrong. Save me, and you may save your Ahiranya. Save me and your country has an option beyond the rebels and whatever fate the emperor has in store for you. Please.”

Priya was not sure what to do, Malini knew that. She saw it in Priya’s eyes; in her downturned lips, tight as a bowstring drawn taut. And Malini could do no more to convince her.

“You’re right,” Priya said. “I made you a promise. And you made me one in return.”

And then she whirled, heading toward the cover of the forest, and Malini had no choice but to follow her.

They were deep into the dark and winding maze of trees when Priya suddenly stopped.

“Priya,” Malini said. She spoke quietly. Had she heard something? Seen something? “What is it?”

Priya was swaying faintly on her feet. She turned to face Malini slowly, blinking. She reached an arm up, wiping her eyes.

The hand she drew back was streaked with blood.

“Something,” Priya said. “Something is—wrong.”

Malini had no time to do or say anything before Priya crumpled to the ground.