“Do you remember?”

Nandhini walked to the edge of the latha mandapam where it opened out to the garden, and clapped her hands three times. A sudden darkness flitted across her face—but was it stark, naked fear, or merely the gloom of the ancient trees casting their long shadows in the moonlight? It was impossible to tell. Just beyond the pavilion stood massive, time-weathered tree trunks, with thick vines winding around them like sleeping serpents. Further out, the garden was simply an impenetrable blob of deep, quiet night.

Presently, a figure parted the pitch-blackness. It was the mandhiravadhi (the sorcerer), pushing his way through the damp masses of foliage and plants. Nandhini retreated to her saprakooda couch and reclined with effortless grace. By the time the man stepped into the pavilion, her lovely face was clothed in absolute tranquillity.

The golden light of the lamp fell full upon the visitor’s face. Ah, we know these features, don’t we? Where have we seen him before? Why, he is one of the men who had gathered in the dead of night by the Thiruppurambiyam monument—the very man who had shaken out a bag of gold coins and growled, “Kill Azhwarkkadiyaan the instant you set eyes on him!” Indeed, this was Ravidasan.

The man seemed to be simmering with wrath even as he walked in. The moment his cat-like eyes fell upon Nandhini, lounging there looking like the very epitome of serenity, he looked ready to explode. He threw himself down on a convenient manai (a low wooden stool) opposite her, and glared.

“Hroom—hreem—hraam!” he muttered, a string of dark syllables. “Bhagavathy—Sakti—Chandikeswari—!” he began to bellow.

“Enough!” snapped Nandhini. “My stupid maid has fallen asleep at her post, I suppose. Say what you wish to say at once!”

“He has entered the fort,” Ravidasan hissed, sounding very much like a ferocious snake.

“Who?” asked Nandhini, calmly.

“You, you ingrate!” Ravidasan pointed a trembling, accusing finger at her. “Devious, wretched Nandhini, who remembers nothing! The Pazhuvoor Ilaiya Rani, the most ungrateful of women! You sly, scheming little witch!”

Nandhini stayed silent, letting the night air absorb his anger.

“You appear to have forgotten quite a few things that ought to have been etched into your memory, woman,” continued Ravidasan. “I shall take it upon myself to recall them for you.”

“What’s the point of raking up those tired old stories now?”

“Why, you ask me? I shall tell you—once I have finished.”

As though realising the utter futility of trying to stop him, Nandhini gave a much put-upon sigh and turned her face away.

“Listen to me, Rani. Three years ago, on the sandy banks of the river Vaigai, a funeral pyre burned in the cremation grounds. It was midnight, and none of the customary rituals and quiet rites that usually accompany a soul’s final journey were performed; nor were any priests present. Dry twigs, sticks, and dead leaves were scrounged from the forest floor and heaped together. Men brought out a corpse that had lain concealed behind a tree, and placed it on the pyre. They lit it, and the fire burnt merrily against the dark, catching upon the heavy logs.

“That was when a few men dragged you out from within the forest’s gloom. Your hands and legs were bound tight; your mouth was gagged with a filthy old cloth. Those lovely tresses of yours—which you now wear so elegantly, knotted and strung with fragrant flowers—were flowing down your back and all over the ground in a straggly, tangled mess. The men who brought you out were fully prepared to throw you onto the pyre as well, and burn you alive.

“‘We shall wait until the fire grows!’ one man swore. So they left you lying in the dust for the time being, while each stood around the flames and swore a terrible, blood-bound oath. You might have been unable to speak, but your eyes and ears were wide open; you watched and listened for all you were worth. Once they had finished pledging themselves to their dark cause, they approached you. And you, who had been silent and wide-eyed until that moment, tried to use your tied hands desperately, to sign something. You rolled your eyes, you wriggled your brows, and one of them saw it.

“‘She seems to want to say something,’ he pointed out.

“‘Just another of her old stories, I expect. Throw her into the fire!’ snapped another.

“‘No, let’s listen to what she has to say before we burn her. Remove her gag,’ ordered a man. Since he happened to be their leader, his men obeyed.”

Ravidasan paused, the memory hanging heavy in the pavilion. “Do you remember your words then, woman?”

Nandhini answered him not; neither did she turn to acknowledge his gaze. Disgust and sheer terror painted her lovely face at that moment, but along with them shone a terrible, steely resolve. Two pearly tears trembled in her limpid eyes.

“So, you do not wish to speak, do you? Fair enough, I shall recite the tale myself. You, my girl, swore that you would assume the exact same cause as the men around you; that you would pledge yourself to exact the same revenge. This, you argued, was because you had more reason than any of them to do so. You promised to use your beauty and your brains to assist the men however you could, and you swore to renounce your very life the instant your purpose was achieved. The others did not believe a word of it, but I did—and I saved you from being burnt to a crisp.”

Ravidasan stopped his narration, breathing heavily. “Do you remember all this—any of it?”

Nandhini turned her head just a fraction to glance at him. “Remember? Remember, you ask? Every word is etched in fire, in my very heart.”

“Later, one day, we were walking in the dense jungle along the banks of the broad Kaveri, all of us. Suddenly, we heard the thundering hooves of cavalry approaching. We decided to split up and hide in the forest—but you were the only one to deliberately disregard us. You stood right where you were, and allowed yourself to be captured by those soldiers. Their leader, Pazhuvettarayar, caught sight of you and promptly fell head over heels for your charms. He wedded you, and I had to bear the brunt of my comrades’ anger, for they believed that you had betrayed us. I resolved to get hold of you alone, somehow, and I did. I promised myself that I would plunge my trusty knife straight into your treacherous heart. But you begged for your life again. You swore that you were here to carry out your pledge, and that you would lend us every aid possible from within this very palace. Now—isn’t all this true?” barked Ravidasan. “Isn’t it?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? Why do you insist on repeating this old history again and again? Tell me what you wish now, and be done with it.”

“No, you do not remember any of those old times—you have forgotten your past, every single bit of it! You are lost in the luxuries of this Pazhuvoor palace. You dine upon lavish, six-flavoured feasts; you drape yourself in fine clothes and expensive jewellery; you laze on carved couches and silk mattresses, and you travel about in ivory palanquins! You are a queen now, my lady—how could you ever remember where you came from?”

“Chee!” Nandhini exclaimed in disgust. “Who cares about silks, mattresses, clothes, and ornaments? Do you really think I live for such paltry objects? Not I!”

“Or, perhaps you have fallen for a beautiful face?” Ravidasan sneered. “The charms of some young idiot who passed you by in an alley? These little romances may have taken your mind from a revenge that is far more important, might they not?”

Startled and a little self-conscious, Nandhini flushed a deep crimson. “Such nonsense,” she spat, making a swift recovery. “Lies, all of it!”

“Indeed? I intimated you of my arrival today, a good while ago—and yet, you did not send your thaathippen (your waiting-maid) to receive me at the usual place. Why?”

“I did send her—but someone else climbed up the ladder meant for you. That silly maid of mine mistook him for you in the dark and led him straight here. How is that my fault, pray?”

“Who cares whose fault it is? Had I hesitated a moment more by that wall, I might have been mincemeat. The soldiers pursuing that young idiot of yours were almost upon me. It was all I could do to escape them—as it was, I had to scramble into the foliage adjoining this palace garden and plunge into a muddy pond, holding my breath for God knew how long. And then I made my way here, dripping wet—”

“Serves you right. You dared suspect me of betrayal, did you? Consider your sins washed away by a dip in that smelly pond.”

“Woman, answer me this: did you really not lose your wits and your heart to that handsome young man?”

“Good heavens, what a horrible idea! Who on earth would ever admire a man simply for being handsome? The shameless people of Chozha Nadu might praise their king for his good looks, but a man’s true beauty lies in his battle scars, doesn’t it?”

“Well said—but if this is what you truly believe, what was that young man doing here?”

“I’ve told you; Vasuki mistook him for you, and led him here.”

“You even gave him your signet-ring—a favour you would not extend me. Why?”

“To lure him here, of course. I wished to speak with him. Now that I have, I shall retrieve it—”

“You did, did you? Why? What were you two lovebirds cooing about, all this time?”

“I was cooing, as you so inelegantly put it, with a very important purpose in mind. He will prove highly useful to our cause, you’ll see.”

“You little witch! Proven yourself to be the stupid woman you are, have you? Betrayed us and our sacred cause to some silly boy we do not even know—”

“Cease your foolish ravings. Why do you screech so? I betrayed nothing. If anything, I learnt a great deal from him.”

“And what would that be?”

“He carries an olai from Kanchi to Pazhaiyarai, to the tigress who resides there. He showed it to me, too. I was instructing him to bring her reply straight back to me—which was when you barged in.”

“Damn your palm-leaves and writing tools! What earthly use are such things to us?”

“That’s all you know. We’ve sworn an oath to destroy those tigers by their very roots, but all you think of are the males; you forget that a dynasty may continue through its women as well. And that’s not all: who do you think holds the reins of Chozha Nadu right now? A pathetic Emperor who is paralysed and stays in bed all day? Or the princes, off fighting in Kanchi and Ilankai?”

“That would be the man who has the honour to call you his wife; the Dhanaadhikaari, Pazhuvettarayar, of course. The whole world knows this!”

“Wrong again. Certainly the world thinks so; why, even that batty old man entertains such foolish notions. I’m not surprised that you’ve been fooled into believing it as well. In truth, it’s that little tigress at Pazhaiyarai who rules the land with an iron hand. She sits in her pretty little palace, pulling strings like a master puppeteer, and everyone dances to her whims and fancies. There seems to be no one who will take her down—but I will make sure she learns her lesson. And that’s why I put that young man to good use.”

Ravidasan considered her, a hint of surprise and grudging respect showing in his eyes. “Cunning, aren’t you? How do I trust you, though? Where is the proof that all this isn’t just a convenient lie, made up for my benefit?”

“I shall surrender that young man to you; lead him out of this fort through the secret passage. Make sure to blindfold him before you do. Wait in the vicinity of Pazhaiyarai, and make sure he brings Kundhavai’s reply to me without fail. Should he try to deceive you or escape, you have my permission to kill him.”

“Not on my life. You and he may go to hell for all I care!” Ravidasan scoffed. “Chinna Pazhuvettarayar’s men are seeking him within the city even as we speak; they will expand their search outside the fort in a while. Team him with me and I shall be sure to be caught along with him. No—let us just discuss the purpose of my visit here.”

“Which you haven’t revealed yet, I might add.”

“Arrangements are complete regarding our men travelling to Kanchi and Ilankai. Of course, things will be difficult for those journeying towards the island; they will have to exercise extreme caution and cunning—”

“How am I a part of these problems? Don’t tell me you need more money? Good grief, is there no limit to your ceaseless greed for gold?”

“We require it in such vast quantities for our cause and not for ourselves, as you well know. Why else do you think we have left you here, whole and well? The men we are sending to Ilankai will need coins of the island’s currency; Chozha coins will not serve their purpose—”

“All this prevarication for such an ordinary request! I have your precious gold coins ready, as you can see.” Nandhini bent down, pulled out a heavy bag from underneath her couch, and handed it to Ravidasan. “This bag contains all the Ilankai coins you need—now leave! He’ll be here soon.”

She stopped him as Ravidasan prepared to melt back into the trees. “Wait a moment—at least escort that young man outside the fort. He may seek his path however he may. I have no great desire to show him the secret passage.”

She rose on the words and glanced towards the darkened palace. It lay wreathed in inky blackness, and nothing was visible. Nandhini signed with her fingers and clapped her hands lightly, to no effect.

She and Ravidasan walked along the creeper-covered pavilion, following the narrow passage that connected the open gallery to the gloomy mansion, towards its entrance. There was no one to be found, not in all the four directions.

Vandhiyathevan had, quite simply, vanished.