WE TOLD THE REST of the palace that we were going away on a ceremonial trip to replenish our offerings at a small shrine in the Riksha Mountains so as not to cause panic. Our real destination, Sripura, was a large town in Southern Kosala. Kaushalya hailed from there—she had been yuvradnyi of the region before her marriage with Dasharath. If we had disclosed our true purpose, news of our arrival might have preceded us. I could not even tell Manthara or Asha.
Lakshmana remained ignorant too, out of fear he might reveal the truth to his brothers.
We snuck away the night before our announced departure so that we could take up our guise of mere travelers, and not until the following morning did Lakshmana ask me any questions.
“Where are we really going, Ma?” His voice was so quiet I almost thought I had imagined it.
“Sripura,” I said.
He did not respond, so I turned to see his reaction. He was frowning as he mouthed the name to himself. “Your mother, Radnyi Kaushalya, is from there,” I added.
“I know. It is just past the Riksha Mountains on the banks of the Mahanadi River.”
I pulled up my horse in surprise, watching his back as he continued on for a few paces before also stopping. He twisted around. “Is something the matter?”
“How do you know that?” I demanded. “Did you hear about our true destination and study the maps before we left?”
Lakshmana narrowed his eyes. “No, of course not. Why would I ask where we’re going otherwise? We were instructed in the geography of Bharat at the ashram.”
I spurred my horse back into motion. “I did not mean to accuse you of lying, Lakshmana. You have my apology. It’s just—your memory is quite impressive.”
“Oh,” he said, almost sadly.
“Is something the matter?”
“Do you really think it’s impressive?” he asked.
I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He held himself rigid, gaze fixed straight ahead. “Very. I have met only one other person with such recall.”
“I don’t understand.” He sounded lost, much younger than his years.
“Has nobody told you so before? Surely your tutors have had reason to observe your memory.”
“No,” he said simply. “I have always taken my lessons with Rama, and he is far smarter than I. At the ashram, Sage Vamadeva said that being second to a man such as Rama is nothing to be ashamed of.”
I nearly toppled off my horse. “Did you say Sage Vamadeva?”
Lakshmana did not seem to pick up on my unease. “I did. He was our tutor for a year, long ago—you may not remember. He left to meditate at the ashram.”
My head spun. Sage Vamadeva had spent two years with my children, with Rama, without my knowing. And on top of my old grievance with the man, I was filled with new ire at his words to Lakshmana. Calm, quiet, patient Lakshmana would never begrudge his brothers anything, this I knew. For while Rama was highly charismatic and gifted with weapons, he had been attending the Mantri Parishad meetings since his return, and I knew he had little head for sums or maps or city planning. But his godly presence spilled into every corner of every room he walked into, convincing all—almost all—that they witnessed greatness.
“Rama cannot do what you can do,” I said after a moment, for I did not wish to get into the topic of Sage Vamadeva right away.
“Rama is brilliant,” he said, an edge I had never heard before in his voice.
I stared at him, confused. Clearly something was happening under the surface to distress him. If we were to travel together, if I was to know him and help him recognize his value, perhaps I would have to break my own rules. With some reluctance, I entered the Binding Plane.
We had a dark yellow thread of acquaintanceship between us, attenuated—I assumed—by our years apart. Respectable, but not strong enough to provide the answers I wanted.
My eyes flicked up to Lakshmana’s face, and that was when I saw it, extending from his neck—a blue cord, so bright it almost hurt to look at. I had never seen such a thing before, but…
It came to me in the next moment, what this must be: Rama. They had spent two years with only each other, and in that time Rama’s godliness must have ensnared Lakshmana.
“Ma? Are you well?” Lakshmana’s words brought me back into myself.
“Yes,” I managed to say. “I am merely thinking.”
“I am sorry for getting sharp with you,” he said. “I don’t know what came over me. Please do not be angry, Ma.”