Chapter 28: Chapter 28: The Change of Plans

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Morning saw Brachen and Dhanur eating in silence at their own table. Brachen had forced her to take part in a morning’s mantra while she did her stretches and breathing before going out to eat. Other patrons were rowdy and ready to begin their own respective days of fishing the jungle rivers, foraging for fruit, and selling their wares at the market. While each table consisted of only single clans, there were no real sections with only Clan Kalia or Clan Macaque. The only division was a small section of port clans from the deep north. There was a borderland of tables between them and everyone else. Instead of jungle animals, they bore the marks of Clan Seagull, a white face and black wing on their cheeks, or of Clan Cowrie with a single small cowrie between their eyes. They rushed to finish their food and join the growing market along the main road whose ambiance was billowing through the windows. Clanless porters and displaced refugees hurried between them all serving drinks and breakfast, gaining a cowrie for their service or a nod of approval from the ranking clan member at the table. The refugees that bore the same clan marks were offered a seat when they had served enough. Brachen ate with fervor, his relatively light wounds and soreness on his head, hand, and shoulder melting away with the sun. Dhanur raised an eyebrow to an Ascetic eating so much, but a cocked brow of his own told her he had earned it. 

Still, Dhanur almost ignored her food. She ate dutifully, her mind far away, and her brows had lowered to a furrow so tight it was as though they were sewn together. Every so often, Brachen would push his thumb gently between them to smooth her forehead not only to show he was there, and he knew she was hurting, but also to let her see that he wasn’t carrying the same emotions she bore.

“How are you, Dhanur?” he asked in the northern tongue as to not attract attention. He had also put Dhanur’s hood on for the same reason but wasn’t sure if it would actually make him blend in more, regardless, he’d rather be seen as weird than a southerner in a northern city.

“Fine,” she replied in northern and picked at a plate of fruit and small fish. 

“Are you sore? I want to heal you. I can’t now.”

“Abba...” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re saying,” she spoke Daksinian.

Brachen made to shush her, but no one noticed, so he spoke Daksinian quietly. “Yes, you do. I taught you.”

“Well, I don’t remember it… Sir. Not much.”

“You just replied in northern.”

“Everyone knows hello and okay.”

“You didn’t pick up anything else during your… exploits?” Brachen crossed his arms.

“I mean, a bit. But I didn’t use it when the war was over.” Dhanur rolled her eyes, then curled her lips at her father’s raised brow.

Janurana had stayed in the room to try a mantra and meditation of her own that morning. When Dhanur had come into the room at first light, she plucked off all her leather armor pieces, knelt at Brachen’s bedside and sniffled for a time before curling up on the floor. Having been woken up, Janurana pretended to sleep and left her companion to her emotions even as they pulled viciously at her own heart. It made her stomach curl and her fingers clench after the few hours of sleep they got as she sat in the dark corner, legs crossed, quietly repeating Brachen’s praise for his inner Light and strength to continue. Janurana wished she could have joined, even as she pretended to be asleep. So she did what she could. 

She knew she was the cause of their pain, but heeding Brachen’s words, she could not dwell. All she could do was keep that pain from being in vain. The determination last night had faded to worry. Janurana pushed back the idea of her mother overpowering Dekha given enough time and of giving false hope to Dhanur and losing to the gwomoni again. Janurana wanted to apologize and run away again, but she’d made her choice. Instead, she focused on Brachen’s words and his fatherly touch to bring her strength, to be a better comrade to Dhanur, hoping to keep herself from the insanity of guilt and helplessness. 

Though she could no longer eat it, the sweet smell of citrus brought her to the front room as much as the warm scent of cooking meat. The exhausted innkeeper languished behind his own table, picking at his breakfast. 

“Good Morning!” Janurana beamed, saying one of the northern phrases she knew. 

“Your friends.” The innkeeper gave her one look then went back to his meal. He had the mark of Clan Macaque.

Brachen was too preoccupied trying to quietly remind his daughter of her own mother tongue to notice Janurana, but Dhanur did. She locked eyes with Janurana and glowered heavily, before turning her gaze down to her plate.

“Guru Brachen, you look like you couldn’t be more well.” She pivoted her attention, looked under his hood to beam at him, and bowed. “And it looks like you slept well.”

Brachen wiped his mustache clean of fruit. It stuck out from the hood like a board nailed over a doorway. “I’ve been blessed to eat another day,” he whispered. “I must insist though we not draw any more attention to ourselves. Do you speak any Uttaran?”

Before Janurana could answer, Dhanur scoffed.

She nodded back as the whole inn noticed the fair skinned woman brightly beaming, speaking loudly in the southern tongue. “And that isn’t helping.” Dhanur went to yank her hood off Brachen’s head, but stopped. “Told you it would look just as bad, sir.”

“I’m sure he was only trying to do his best,” Janurana said. She sucked her teeth at Dhanur noticing what she hadn’t, licked her canines to make sure they weren’t extended, and noticed the piece of meat on Brachen’s plate. He nodded and pushed it to her.

Dhanur glared at Janurana’s food, then her, then stood abruptly.

“Where are you going?” Brachen and Janurana asked in unison, one in Uttaran and the other Daksinian. 

Dhanur kicked her pillow back under the table, knocking it and startling them both. She immediately gritted her teeth regretting the violent action, but downed her cup of fruit juice and slammed it back onto the table. 

“Away,” she said.

Janurana furtively looked around them and grasped the lap of her skirt tight. Brachen regarded Dhanur quietly. 

A man near them with the tan cobra hood ringing his face and white fangs on his chin of Clan Kalia shook his head saying, “Southerners” and another added “haunted burners.” 

“Virala, Zirisa.” Both her original names rung in Dhanur’s ears, vibrating with the danger of a parent with no patience left, but still full of compassion. 

Janurana chimed back in with an even lower tone, “She will still be following us. It isn’t smart to retread a path we’ve just followed.” She spoke as though calming a rabid bull, eyeing Dhanur’s clenching and unclenching fists. 

“Ya see this?” Dhanur asked slowly, quietly, and methodically, then lifted her shirt. The pattern of purples and reds from her crushed body ran up her stomach, her ribs, and along her breast as she exposed them to the whole inn who watched the scene she was making. Brachen could see the faintest outline of the statue’s arm on his daughter’s skin.

“Dhanur…” he pleaded, not having any counter to what she was going to say.

“Do you see this, Janurana?”

“Yes, Dhanur,” Janurana replied.

“Yeah. Say thank you to my Abba. Ya left me with your mother. I would’ve died without him. Ya see this?” Dhanur rolled up her sleeve to show the still pulsing but no longer festering wound. Janurana fingered the patch on her hip. “This would’ve killed me too.”

“I know.”

“Zirisa, I don’t think it wou—”

“Go ahead. Thank him.” Dhanur’s fists were trembling.

“Thank you, Guru Brachen, for saving Dhanur’s life.”

“Good. You did this. All of this. After I took you in! Whatever Hegwous might send after us, your mother, my home bein’ torn down, and you left me to die! After all of that!”

“I… Didn’t mean to.”

“And that’s better??”

“Dhanur,” Brachen tried to interject.

“No! This Light lost, dowsing—Ugh! She has brought nothing but trouble! I don’t care if she needed help! Look at me. Look at you! Ya said yourself ya wanted her gone soon!”

“I did, but I said that out of haste and to protect the temple. We would offer her help, then she would be on her way. Now, her mother’s spirit will leave the temple and the young ones behind her. I can help the Light find this woman of my own accord.”

“Then you do it! I’m going back to the capi—the templ—anywhere else!” Dhanur turned and the other patrons turned back to their breakfasts since the show of the southerners getting yelled at looked to be over, but Brachen got up and grabbed her arm.

“Ow.” He patted his wounded hand.

“What’d she do to you now??”

“You did this to me. When you were being healed, you squeezed me so tight.”

Her jaw dropped to retort, but she snapped it shut and clenched her teeth.

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“She is not her mother, Virala Zirisa. You’re casting a dark shadow on all of us. She is a victim of circumstance. It is not Janurana’s fault her mother is a horrid person, nor her fault that anyone wants her dead. You always listened to the blue dhanur that was above your bed, and now’s your chance to show you can truly be like him. He never let the dangers he faced saving his friends from monsters or the wounds he took stop him, because he knew what he should do. And this is what you should do!”

Dhanur glared down at him, but Brachen refused to be looked down upon. He met his daughter’s stare with as much ferocity, seeming to match her height. 

Dozens of eyes were on them with the northerners whispering amongst themselves “What are they even doing here?”, “Why are they so loud?” “Isn’t he from that temple?”, and “Do you need us to deal with them, sister?”

Brachen sighed and Janurana blinked in surprise. He reached forward quick as a flash and flicked his daughter in the center of her forehead with an audible ‘cunk’. 

A few of the patrons bristled on their pillows, but stayed away from the fire flickering in Brachen’s eyes. Dhanur’s lip wobbled and Brachen touched her hand gently. 

“You’re speaking like a woman who doesn’t deserve the Light. If you cannot endure the monsoon, you don’t deserve the Light behind its clouds.”

“Please, Dhanur,” Janurana said in a small voice and fiddled with the patch on her hip. "I’ve lost her that way before, following another path and circling around, but… I don’t—I didn’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want to lose anyone else to her. She’s killed people I care about before and…”

Dhanur looked back and forth between them, embarrassed that a warrior with her experience couldn’t have seen through such a basic strategic mistake as not going back the way you came.

“Enough of this back and forth and crying and whining! Listen to your friends, girl.” The entire room looked to the sudden voice, then away from him in varying degrees of fear and disgust at his appearance. Some were confused as he only seemed to appear after he’d spoken in perfect northern to them, but was perfect southern to Dhanur, Janurana, and Brachen. 

Deiweb brought a leg of beef up to his mouth with slender, milky pale fingers, his southern disguise gone.

“What’s it to you?” Dhanur barked with practiced inn etiquette before she even turned to him, but froze when she saw Deiweb. She had only ever seen one person with similar coloring, but she knew no gwomoni would be so brazen to stroll into a northern inn, and in daylight no less. And they had never seen anyone with such saturated orange and red hair. Where Dhanur’s was riverbed clay, incredibly rare but not impossible for either Daksin or Uttara, his was like a wildfire in the night.

“I tire of hearing you argue.” His voice dripped from his tongue like chilled honey, slow and sweet. “You are as safe as your gothi, monks, or whatever you call them in this part of the realm. Janelsa Malihabar wouldn’t bother with them or you now. I’ve given her a much more fun project,” he said casually, leaning back in one of the few chairs at the inn reserved for the first up in the morning that no one had noticed wasn’t claimed. He brushed his hair out of his face with a nonchalant flick. At her mother’s name Janurana’s eyes widened and then narrowed. Deiweb finished the meat on his bone and tossed it to the haggard woman sitting across from him who caught it with a fumble and tossed it next to her into an unseen container. “I doubt she’ll even go into those caves looking for you now, Janurana.”

“Are… Are you playing with us?” Dhanur asked, unsure.

Deiweb pondered that, holding up another leg of meat in his long white fingers. “Yes and no.” He wore a cloak, far too heavy for the heat of Uttara, and fine boots without a lick of dust on them. His servant was perpetually teary eyed and shivered even in the warmth.

“So, you are playing with us,” Dhanur continued, still uncertain.

Janurana pulled up beside her. The new man had a different, much more dangerous air about him than any she had ever seen, and smelled like smoke. Not of home fireplaces and wood, but of black billowing death, like a burning corpse, rolling off of him in waves. Even then, Janurana couldn’t place it. More than the sting of garlic telling her something was poison, Deiweb’s scent sent a shiver down her spine only her mother could create. “Let’s move on from here,” she whispered. 

“Aarushi Aabha sends her regards to her lover, and to you, Lady Malihabar or Shzahd as you called yourself,” he purred with a grin so devious it had clearly been waiting all morning to appear. “In what few words the simple girl can muster in these times.”

Dhanur’s eyes flashed with anger and surprise but quickly narrowed. She curled her fist and wound her arm to strike.

 Janurana felt the heat of Dhanur’s anger flare and ran in front of her, the royalty in her blood taking hold and setting fear to the side. They shared a terse look, going from anger and surprise, to worry as Deiweb seemed to suck their attention deep into him.

“Who are you?” Janurana asked.

 “In this part of the realm I’m known as Deiweb.” He rose and bowed. “A far cry from my mother’s name for me, but no matter.”

As he stood, the weight of his aura crashed on all those in the inn and it finally dawned on them that they were no longer watching a simple argument. The innkeeper dropped down to hide behind a barrel as every northerner looked to the windows or door for a spirit to rush in and rectify what they obviously must be feeling. But since none were coming, they all bolted for the exit, fleeing Deiweb like a fell wind.

Deiweb put his hands on his hips, chuckling, and tossed a ball of fire at one. “Such cowards!” he yelled as the bulls in the stable all bleated in terror, including Dekha.

“Wait. You—” Brachen put together his appearance with the man who had blocked his Light at the temple. 

“I what…? Oh, yes. I was at your temple, yes. I set Janelsa on a path away from the sanctity of its tunnels, so don’t worry about your little acolytes.” He smirked at them, standing a shorter than Dhanur but taller than Janurana whose brows furrowed in further confusion. “Right now I think you might do well to think of your other common enemy. Hold them in your mind.”

“How could I not?” Dhanur growled to herself. 

“They are not far from it,” Janurana said. 

Deiweb continued as though they hadn’t spoken.

“For if you wish it, their timely end is as close as I am to you. I have a proposition for you. I think you’ll want to take it, or my name is Muqtablu, the woman who ran!” He laughed heartily and fell back into his chair, crossing his legs at the knees and went to take a deep swallow of the drink before him. He sneered at it and snapped at his servant across from him. She pulled a jar from his trunk of snacks and gave him a fresh pour of mead. The bottle was different from the ones originally in the chest, covered in the same hard script Gehsek had used to summon Deiweb. She slid it into his waiting hand as her fingers trembled. 

Janurana heard each of her companion’s heartbeats still speeding up considerably.

Brachen slowed his breathing, a conscious foil to his involuntary fear as he felt more terror settle in his bones. Brachen didn’t see an advantage Deiweb could be playing at. He was simply there, talking, but how dangerous words could be. 

Dhanur only wondered how and when she could shut him up for trying to play them like fools and insulting Aarushi.

“Is she safe?” Dhanur demanded.

Deiweb snapped his stare at her without a word. His eyes were unblinking and they pierced her like an arrow. “You demand nothing of me.”

“Please. Sir,” Janurana began, which caused him to snap his attention to her, but he saw her submission and the inscrutable pressure that pinned Dhanur instantly faded who breathed again. “She cares deeply for the Maharaj and meant no offense. Great Deiweb, we beg of you, enlighten us of your proposition,” she said with the air of a supplicant servant.

“The court has served you well, girl!” Deiweb laughed. His mirth returning should have brought them peace, but one knew danger was afoot when the spear was pointed at them, less so when they couldn’t see it. “She remains safe. Though I wouldn’t rely too heavily on that. As much as you tried not to, you made quite a stir when you entered the Capital. I’m wondering why you didn’t see fit to change your clothes in all the time you've been wandering. You must have a talent for sewing. Your seal, your dress, your posture, your parasol. It alerted them. And now you worry for this, Maharaj you call her? You didn’t seem to have a worry going into your Capital’s Keep.”

“How do you know all this?” Brachen asked.

“They summoned me here, Hegwous did,” Deiweb said matter-of-factly. “To follow you.” He motioned to Janurana, then to both her and Dhanur. “Then kill you. But you weren’t the most enjoyable prey and your mother seemed so much more enthusiastic.”

Dhanur took a step forward and Janurana a step back. Janurana wanted her parasol or even the ax she’d left behind, something to calm her nerves, something familiar or powerful in all the chaos. She looked around wildly for a gust of wind, expecting the traumatic pressure that always came before the claws and backed into a table. 

“Be still, woman. Were your mother here you’d know it in an instant, wouldn’t you? Their contracts are mundane, their sacrifices,” he side–eyed the woman he was with, “lacking and I’m due for a laugh. So! This would be quite the comedy were you to know how to take back your plateau and maybe even kill every single one of them.”

Dhanur stood up straighter, a different resolve in her eyes. “How?! You’ve been talking and haven’t said anything useful! Tell me how to kill them all!” Her voice ended in a growl. 

He guffawed at her gusto, despite her impudence. “Keep up the passion, Dhanur! It will make things quite interesting! The Gwomon is coming to meet by the new moon. To consolidate their holdings, talk trade, resources, roads and other matters of government, though I have also heard whispers of a more nefarious purpose.”

Janurana tightened her lips. “So it is true.”

“She was right ‘bout them too…” Dhanur cursed under her breath.

“Verily. Gwomoni do control the other lands, not just your plateau. And all of them are coming quite soon, and they’ll set up with Hegwous.” The name still made Dhanur’s skin crawl and she broke out in goosebumps, despite the northern heat. “All the vengeance you’ve both sought, the peace you crave, the bloodlust you want fulfilled. The time is most opportune. Why only free your plateau? You can remove the head of every viper from here to Hellas and the Nile. Those places are very, very far away, mortals.”

Brachen stayed resolutely to the side of his daughter. He wanted to help, but Janurana and Dhanur at least seemed less frightened than he was.

“Information has never been without cost, especially that which could lead to your Master’s demise. What is it you want?” Janurana asked. She thought back to when her mother had spoken with traitors offering inside information on her enemies as Janurana listened at the war room door. She tried to copy Janelsa Malihabar’s tone, softening it to sound respectful and not like a domineering warlord. But it didn’t give her strength. Janurana still felt like a little girl, but how one perceived her was more important than how she felt. 

“Yeah, what d’ya want?” Dhanur parroted. She wasn’t used to talking through negotiations and glanced at Janurana trying to appear as versed in the art. However, they both felt smaller compared to Deiweb. 

And then Deiweb’s eyes slowly darkened, his face looked hollow, as if a blaze inside him was consuming his flesh, and the room followed his mood. The bulls in the stable froze in fear. He stood straighter, taller, and looked down on them with a weight that made nothing else in the world exist. When he finally spoke, his words brought a chill to the building, even as the fire in his eyes bid them to step back. His servant whimpered. 

“I’ve no master, girl. They are play things which I cast aside when I see fit. When they no longer amuse me, I make use of something else. As I am doing now. Hold this true first or it will be a costly mistake. I have set your mother on the path to you before and I can bring her here in an instant to watch her rip you apart while I laugh and feast.” He looked into Dhanur’s eyes and in an instant was closer to her. “With a whisper I can have your lover tortured even further before your eyes, letting that fool Hegwous rule your plateau until your bones are nothing but dust, unfit even to burn.” The shadow that had washed over the inn left as soon as it had come and he settled his boots back to earth, they hadn’t even noticed him rise, but he roared with laughter, holding his stomach. “You looked so brave and ready and now so wretched and cowed. You look as dense as Thor, minus his idiotic courage. Warriors these days have much less fight in them than my kin. Anyway, you have until the new moon perhaps, you should figure out how to get there and deal with them! I suggest heading north. I’m certain many people there are as eager to kill the southern rulers as you! I’ll be watching. It will be fun to watch you two go at each other like little figurines in a child’s hands. Have a good time!” He grinned at them and snapped his fingers, a ring of fire wound around his servant’s throat and she keened in pain. “Up. Let’s go.” 

Clumsily, she grabbed for the chest. As Deiweb strode out the door, his servant floated behind him, being dragged by the fiery lead. Outside, Dekha could be heard panicking over the other bulls. Deiweb turned to smile at them before bowing and disappearing in a puff of smoke.

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