“I assume they meant Kosala, for attempting to reach Ayodhya would be absurd,” Dasharath continued, echoing my thoughts. “I have spoken to Virendra privately and made sure to allocate more soldiers to Sripura and Southern Kosala.” The Minister of War was elderly but sharp as ever. “But now, saying it aloud—have we grown dull with age?” He chuckled, but there was no mirth in it. “This seems more dire than I believed, and all the while we sit here reading grain reports and lamenting that we did not have the foresight to build a new granary.”
Whatever enemy this was, they had proven they did not need to march armies upon us. They could starve us instead. And that was indeed worth taking seriously. Still, we could not just ready our soldiers for battle based on suppositions. We might be reading shapes where there was only fog.
“You need to send someone to Janasthana itself,” I said, thinking aloud. “Someone whose sole job is to understand the threat. Someone who cannot be bought.” Now that I had spoken it, I was filled with the desire to go.
I had tried my best to put her from my mind, but in discussing Janasthana, I could not help but think that my mother might still be there. I had wondered for so long about who she might be now, what she might say to me. This was my opportunity to serve my kingdom and my own curiosity all at once.
“There is no one to send. Aside from you and myself, I trust only Virendra for such a task, and he is far too old to make the journey.”
“I will go,” I said.
Dasharath’s brows rose in alarm. “You want to go to a city supposedly overrun by some evil force. A city two moons’ journey south through treacherous forests.”
“Yes.” As I spoke, it made more and more sense. “I can move quickly and I have the influence to negotiate on our behalf. I am easily underestimated but can protect myself. If it would put your mind at ease to send someone south, I can go.”
“I cannot allow that,” he said immediately. In the low light, he looked exhausted. “You are my radnyi. My saciva. I would not risk your safety.”
“It is because I am your radnyi and saciva that I should go,” I argued. “Who better to execute your will than me? But if you think I need protection, Rama can accompany me.” After all, he had slayed a rakshasa and lifted the bow of a god—whatever beast loomed in the forest would be child’s play for him.
“Absolutely not,” Dasharath said without even considering my proposal. “I cannot send away the yuvraja of Kosala and my saciva both.”
“No harm will befall us,” I insisted. “And besides, three of your sons will remain here. Surely that is ample security for the kingdom.”
He did not seem moved, so I decided to send a suggestion down our bond. It moved sluggishly and seemed to flash blue as it dissipated at Dasharath’s chest. I had never seen such a thing happen before, and I worried that perhaps my disuse of the Binding Plane had made my power there weaker. Still, it seemed as though the idea had been absorbed. “Rama would benefit from such a trip. You came to the throne in a time of war, but he has no experience of such things.”
Dasharath met my gaze, considering, and then his expression shuttered. “No. I cannot allow it. He only just returned, and I need him here.”
“But—”
“I said no, Kaikeyi!” he snapped, and I clamped my mouth shut. In all of our years of marriage, Dasharath had never spoken to me that way before. He must have seen my shock, for he added in a milder tone, “You will not take Rama, but it would certainly alleviate my worries if you had accompaniment. You should take Lakshmana.”
“That is a fine suggestion,” I said softly. I was hurt by his sudden anger but reminded myself he was under an enormous amount of stress. And Lakshmana was just as skilled as Rama. “We will leave in a week.”
Dasharath closed his eyes. “You may go to Southern Kosala, but no farther. You should be able to learn more about matters from there. I will not have you going to Janasthana. If any of the rumored danger is real, it will be too great a risk.”
My heart sank further. “I doubt I can fix the situation without visiting the seat of the problem,” I argued.
“If you go all the way to Janasthana and anything befalls you, I will not know what has happened for near half a year.” Acute worry pinched his features. I did not want to cause him any more concern.
“As you say,” I told him. “Do not fear. All will be well.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE