Vedanta had been waiting yet again. But he didn’t wait in a disgusting lane like last time. It was far better now, but outside the inn where Vedanta’s men had been slain. Though everything had been cleared up, he told the innkeeper to not touch the blood. He wanted to show it around. He wanted to show Kuvera what his planning had done to his men. And he wanted to make sure Kuvera was adequately sorry for it.
It had been days since the event, but his mind hadn’t recovered from it. He was petrified as well as angry. He was afraid; he dreamed of a girl with silver hair, ripping his throat apart. He had two guards in his room, wearing large bells on their feet and they were ordered not to rest one bit. When they got tired and moved, the bell rang and Vedanta woke up and scolded them. The bells were supposed to be an alarm for when someone had entered his room, someone unwanted. He had Urvashi’s room blocked by five men.
“I’m not really comfortable with large men in my room watching over me,” she had said, but she wouldn’t understand the gravity of the situation.
Indragarh was officially a war zone now. He didn’t like it since he would have to protect Urvashi more than himself. A thought about sending her to the South, to the Dakshinis, came to his mind. He had a few friends down there. Vibhisana was a great man when it came to helping out those in need, and Vedanta could trust him. But then, a thought crossed his mind. Vedanta had other enemies down south. It was worse in those kingdoms because Vedanta had fought with them over trade and territory issues. He had to be careful.
Now he stood in front of the inn he had systematically destroyed by sending all the women and men to prison. The innkeeper, the new one hired by Vedanta, had been working to make this establishment respectable. But the rooms where the murder had happened, needed to remain untouched.
In the wee hours of the night, while Vedanta waited for the Yaksha king, he was met by the innkeeper, who said, “There was a guest here, my lord. He has taken a room for himself even though I was very insistent we weren’t…”
“You didn’t give him those rooms?”
“No, no, kingship,” the innkeeper whimpered, perhaps the sight of blood had disgusted the poor man. “Not at all.”
“All right, let him stay. Just make sure to send the guards on that floor so if he moves, we know,” Vedanta ordered.
He was respectful of private establishments, but not illegal ones. He was given the religious city of Indragarh by his father and he had made sure to worship the God of all Gods, Lord Vishnu, and the head of the Trimurti. He was someone who Vedanta would kneel before and pray to every week, along with Urvashi as well. He had built a large golden statue of him, in the midst of the city. Everyone would go and worship it. Though of course now, with the inclusion of the Tribals, many second guessed that Vedanta, who worshipped the Gods, had fallen prey to atheism—which was false.
Vedanta knew better now. He knew they had their own cultures, rituals and traditions just like Manav. They were all in the same circle of faith, just disbanded and castrated from the society, because of battles they had lost ages ago.
He had to focus on the objective, though.
Revenge. That was it. Whoever was behind it, be it Kuvera, Vasuki or Kali, he would be coming for them. But, as of now, he trusted Kuvera. He couldn’t have done it. It would be potentially harming his relationship with Vedanta.
The wait was over. The rich smell of flowers came around when the Yaksha king entered the street, wrapped in gaudy robes and ostentatious jewels. He looked tired than the last time and his wistful energy had been lost.
“What am I summoned for?” he asked, agitated.
Vedanta wondered why. But he prodded him with further questions. He led him to the rooms, opening them one by one. “As you can see, all the sheets are red.”
“Well, I know I seem to be a fashionable man, your kingship, but I just don’t think it’s necessary to show me random designs, since we are facing a political struggle at the moment.”
“These are not designs.” Vedanta signalled him to go closer.
Kuvera did so and he gasped, as he touched the fabric, touching the dry blood. He turned back, pale as ever, trying to take a deep breath. “You do realise I don’t have the stomach for blood.”
“You didn’t mind Takshaka’s blood.”
“Well that was Naga blood; it smells different.”
Vedanta didn’t know if there was anything unique about a Naga’s blood. He had seen it. It was the same colour, though he didn’t manage to smell it like Kuvera.
“This clearly is Manav blood,” he blurted. “Why are you showing me blood, man?”
“This is my men’s blood,” he said by way of explanation. “My ministers and my Senapati.”
“I didn’t do anything, your kingship. Whatever we did, we took a mature and a wise decision.”
“Now it is backfiring, clearly.”
“Did you manage to find out who it was?”
Vedanta nodded, taking Kuvera to the last room where the silver-hair murderer had been seen. “It was someone with a different kind of hair. Silver.”
“I’ll send my informants across the city, get the word out,” he paused. “It won’t be difficult to ask around, since the colour is indeed quite unique and I am sure someone has seen it.”
Vedanta had a disdainful face, but Kuvera had a good army of informants. They relied heavily on the spying and disguises.
“Three rooms. That’s like someone really had a grudge against you,” Kuvera said, before Vedanta could even open the door.
“What do you mean? It’s an assassin.”
“Sure, but the assassin would never make such a mess, he or she would hit the target and leave,” Kuvera explained, “by arrows, dagger or poison. But this one didn’t go on that route. She probably drugged your men and then killed them, leaving all the women. So, yes, our enemy, whoever it is, has found someone who hates you. You must search for people who have a beef with you. Anyone in particular you remember?”
Vedanta didn’t. All he ever did was help others. “A Dakshini perhaps?”
“Oh no. A Dakshini here would make too much noise.” Kuvera narrowed his eyes. “And why now? He wouldn’t want to cripple you like this; he’d rather go on a war against you and humiliate you.”
“I see,” Vedanta hummed, his thoughts running with the same idea of who it could be who did this. Was it the time he had killed the imposters or the robbers? He had hunted a few men in the jungles of Keekatpur, but they were Mlecchas. So who could have had a grudge against him? He opened the door and instead of finding an empty room, he saw a slender, lanky man standing, his back against them. He was wearing a tight vest, was armed with two daggers and wearing bejeweled slippers. His hair was all patchy, and his skin seemed diseased. He was watching the blood-stained pillows.
He turned. His face was a grotesque mixture of cherubic features and festering, scaly skin.
“I’m sorry to break up this party,” Kali said, grinning. “I’m glad you have been served the wine as well.” He walked to Kuvera and Vedanta, both of them now instantly petrified and backing off. “Don’t be afraid of me. I seek peace just as you do.”
“How did you find us?” Vedanta said, trying to keep a straight face.
“I’ve increased the strength of my generals to spy on my loyal friends.” His hands slowly rounded around Kuvera and Vedanta’s shoulders. “To see what they are up to. I didn’t know I would need this service until you two began to behave differently towards me, especially you, Vedanta, who abjectly hates the company of the Tribals. The irony is killing me.”
Kuvera asked, trying to get rid of Kali’s hand over his shoulder, “What do you want?”
“What you two want,” Kali said, “which is that we should work together, all of us. After all, we have one enemy now.”
“Was it really him?” Vedanta asked.
Kali looked at Vedanta as if trying to gauge whether it mattered to him. “It has to be him,” Kali said. “If not, well, it’s an honest mistake on our part.”
Vedanta could not help, but see the images of his dead wife and daughter. Kali had infiltrated their meeting and now Vedanta had no choice but to take help from him.