A s it was, it took only a single night’s sleep to restore me to a semblance of normalcy; and we awoke to good news.
“Hasan Dar’s fever broke in the night,” the Rani Amrita informed us at the breakfast table, her face beaming. “His wound needs to drain yet, but the physician thinks he will recover fully.”
“That’s wonderful!” I said. “I’m so pleased to hear it, my lady.”
“Yes.” The light in her face faded a bit. “There have been far too many deaths already, eh?”
Bao heaped his plate with eggs cooked with vegetables and spices, warm flatbread, and savory fried lentil-cakes filled with pickled achar. “What of the others, highness?”
It brought back her vibrant smile. “Well, all are healing well!”
While we ate, Amrita and Ravindra told us what had transpired in our absence. It had caused a great scandal that Pradeep and the guards had transported the bodies of the fallen to the temple of funeral pyres, both their highnesses accompanying them. Although the Rani had not made a formal announcement rescinding the policy of treating no-caste persons as untouchable, the rumor was circulating, and opinion was divided.
“I have been taking counsel with priests,” she said. “Some of them are quite horrified at the prospect.”
“But not all of them,” Ravindra added. “My tutor is of the priestly caste, and he and I have been studying the sacred Vedas.” He inclined his head to me. “I think you may be right, Moirin-ji.”
I bit into a sweet, fried dumpling and swallowed. “How so, highness?” I asked.
“In the oldest of the Vedas, there is no mention of no-castes,” he said gravely. “Only the four castes. And in some places, one might almost infer that it is possible for someone born to one caste to rise to another through study, and worship, and clean and proper living. I would not dare to make such a claim, but my tutor thinks it is possible. So. That is why I think you may be right, and sometimes men have put words in the mouths of the gods, shaping the world to their liking.”
“I have been speaking with Laysa, too,” Amrita said, steepling her fingers in a mudra of contemplation. “She tells me that Sakyamuni the Enlightened One rejected the notion of caste when he founded the Path of Dharma.” She smiled in wonderment. “Although she has no formal religious training yet in this lifetime, she has carried great wisdom with her into this incarnation. She tells me she remembers hearing the Enlightened One himself speak about this matter many lifetimes ago.”
“Would you think to do the same, my lady?” I asked her. “Reject the notion of caste?”
“No.” The Rani Amrita shook her head, eardrops tinkling softly. “It is the way our world is ordered, dear one, and that is clear in the Vedas. But I am very interested in this notion that caste is not rigid and fixed, that the challenge of one’s kharma is not only to obey and endure one’s fate, but to transcend it. And I am interested in finding ways to help people do so, especially the less fortunate ones.”
“Start a school,” Bao said around a mouthful of eggs. I raised my brows at him. He swallowed hastily and wiped his mouth. “Forgive me, highness. But if you wish to lift people up, the best way is to teach them. Before I met Master Lo Feng, I knew nothing but an acrobat’s tricks and stick-fighting. He taught me to read and write, mathematics, enough of a physician’s trade to make myself useful. He taught me the path of the Way, taught me to think and reason and meditate, to focus my mind and will. I became a different person because of what Master Lo taught me.”
“Teach them,” Amrita echoed.
Bao nodded. “From that one thing, ten thousand things will arise.”
“I like this notion,” the Rani said decisively, and Ravindra nodded in agreement. “Only… I think I shall wait until Hasan Dar is recovered to announce any sweeping changes, eh? Pradeep is a good man, but not as strong-willed and courageous.”
“Do you think there will be trouble, my lady?” I asked. “That folk will protest and resist?”
“Some will,” she said soberly. “It is inevitable. Both priests on high, angry at having their authority undermined, and low-caste workers, resentful at having to share their ranking with folk they despise.”
“But you are minded to do this?” Bao asked softly.
“Yes.” Amrita’s lovely face was set and grave. “I am. The gods sent three women all bearing the same message to me. First Moirin, then Jagrati, and now the tulku Laysa. I cannot turn a deaf ear to them.” She smiled a little. “Maybe when men fail to heed them, the gods turn at last to women, eh?”
“It took them long enough,” I observed.
Amrita shook her head at me in mild reproach. “The time of gods is not like the time of mortals, dear one.”
“Yes, my lady.” I ate another of the sweet, fried dumplings. “So are Laysa and her daughter staying?”
“No, no. Only through the winter. When the high passes are clear, I will send them to Rasa with an escort. The others are staying,” she added.
“Ah.” I smiled. “So you’re keeping the harem.”
My lady Amrita laughed and flushed the slightest bit, narrowing her lustrous eyes at me. “I am not keeping the harem, Moirin. They could not return home after what they have endured, for their families would reckon them disgraced. I have offered them sanctuary here, and they have accepted it.”
“Why would Mama-ji keep a harem?” Ravindra asked in bewilderment.
“Moirin was only teasing,” Bao informed him.
“Oh.” He continued to look puzzled.
“It is a grown-up kind of teasing, jewel of my heart,” Amrita said to him. “A very D’Angeline kind of teasing.”
Ravindra shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Anyway, it is very nice. It’s almost as though we have the big family you always missed, isn’t it, Mama-ji?” he asked. She nodded. “Would you like to come see?” he inquired. “We have opened a whole row of chambers along the lower level of the garden that have been closed for years.”
“I would like that very much, young highness,” I said.
After breaking our fast, we strolled in the great central courtyard garden. Although it was warm in the sunlight, there were no flowers blossoming in the winter months, but it was lush and green nonetheless, filled with towering rhododendrons that would be spectacular in bloom, and the immense banyan trees with their gnarled roots. Monkeys leapt and chattered in their branches, and birds with emerald, scarlet, and blue plumage flitted from tree to tree like living jewels.
And beneath them, children laughed and chased one another, watched by indulgent mothers. Chamber doors that had been sealed for years for lack of inhabitants opened onto patios where the women of the Falconer’s harem sat and sipped tea or the spiced yoghurt drink called lassi, chatting with one another while keeping half an eye on the playing children.
The women greeted the Rani Amrita with glad smiles and deep bows, palms pressed together.
The young Prince Ravindra was hailed with bows and happy shouts, especially from the older boys, who quickly swarmed him and Bao, all yelling at once. It was obvious that Bao’s fighting prowess had been the topic of much conversation, but only Ravindra had seen him in action.
“What’s that?” Bao cupped his ear. “Surely, you don’t think his highness exaggerates!” He scoffed, freeing the bamboo staff lashed across his back with a quick twist. “Stand back and watch.”
Bao put on a show for them, fighting an imaginary opponent-ten imaginary opponents. He whirled like a dervish, the staff spinning in his hands until it was as blurred as a dragonfly’s wings. He crouched low, his staff sweeping the grass. He leapt high, lashing out with both feet in opposite directions and his staff in a third. He hurled his body in the sideways spinning kick parallel to the ground that seemed to defy the laws of nature. Bao vaulted and somersaulted, turned handsprings and backsprings, sending his staff soaring high into the air and catching it upon landing upright once more.
The children shrieked with delight, raising a deafening cacophony that made me smile and wince at once.
The women clapped for him.
“He’s quite something, your bad boy, isn’t he?” Amrita took my arm, smiling. “Moirin, would you consider staying here, you and Bao? It would please me very much if you made Bhaktipur your home.”
I hesitated, not wanting to refuse outright, a part of me not wanting to refuse at all.
“Look.” She squeezed my arm. “Ravindra dotes on him, eh? Your bad boy makes my serious boy smile. And you…” She searched my face, shook her head and laughed her chiming laugh. “You are a little bit of a great many things to me, young goddess, and I do not know how to name the sum of its parts. I only know that I am very, very fond of you, and I would rather not lose you.”
Since Bao and I had been reunited here, I had not consulted our shared diadh-anam. Now I did. It whispered the same message it had at our first reunion in the Tatar encampment a year ago. And it was not urgent, but it was persistent.
West, it called to us. Westward.
Somewhere, oceans beckoned.
“We can’t, Amrita,” I whispered, tears in my eyes. “I can’t. I wish I could, because whatever home means to me anymore, it is so very far away. If I could call any other place home, it would be this place with you and Bao and Ravindra in it. But I can’t. The gods are not finished with me. And… and I miss my mother, too.” I sniffled. “I hate to think of her never knowing what became of me.”
“Oh, Moirin!” Amrita fussed over me, wiping my tears away with the draped hem of her sari. “Of course you do. Forgive me, I did not mean to make this harder for you.”
I smiled at her through my tears. “You didn’t.”
“I did.”
“No.” I shook my head. “It was a kindness. And I am always grateful for your kindness.”
“Ah.” Unexpectedly, Amrita kissed my lips, sweetly and gently. “Yes, I know. I have not forgotten. Your demonstration of gratitude was very memorable. Will your gods let you stay a while, at least? Until spring comes? It will be much easier to travel then. I would be grateful for your aid in changing the world, Moirin. And I have promised to see you and your Bao wed. I would like to see it done when all the flowers are in bloom.”
My diadh-anam did not speak against it.
“Yes,” I said gratefully. “We will stay until spring.”
Bao fetched up alongside us, sweat glistening on his brown skin. “I am too old for such acrobatics,” he announced. “It makes my bones ache. Moirin, why are you crying?”
“Because we will have to leave this place,” I said.
He frowned and glanced unerringly toward the west. “Not yet, surely?”
“No.” I rubbed my face. “But it makes me sad to think on it.”
“I know.” Bao stroked my back. “We’ll just have to make the most of our time here, all right?”
I nodded. “That we will.”