“See? Rama has even gotten to you.” Lakshmana sat up again and placed a hand on my shoulder. “You are his mother and you have done a great deal for the kingdom. But at the ashram, he asked Sage Vamadeva many questions I hardly knew Rama had. The sage said he thinks it shameful for women to be out in the open, believes that women are weak and foolish and will ruin Kosala. And Rama cares very much about what Sage Vamadeva has to say, and the opinions of those the sage introduced to Rama while we were there. They do not like you, which leaves Rama most conflicted.”
“When did you learn so much about this?” I whispered.
“Those two years we were on our own were illuminating. Rama has always been kind to me, and he is my brother. In some ways, he is very wise. I do not want you to think I hate him or find only fault with him. But even the people we love can be flawed, no?”
“Yes,” I said, voice thick with unshed tears. Lakshmana lay back down and I took the opportunity to dash a hand across my eyes. I had missed everything important about my sons.
“He is not ready to be king,” Lakshmana said. He paused to gauge my reaction, and I motioned for him to continue. “Not yet. He will be a great ruler only for some. He is good to me and Bharata and Shatrugna, and to even the lowest of manservants. He listens to their opinions, respects them, and he will do great things for the men of the kingdom. His rule will be excellent for many people.”
“But not all of them,” I finished. And then we both fell silent.
Of all the rumors I have heard about me, the ones involving Lakshmana are some of the most laughable. Many people seem to believe our journey together was the time when he recognized my wickedness and realized he needed to protect Rama from my evil. But it is perhaps the least true out of all the varied theories, because by the end of our trip, Lakshmana found me quite fragile and in need of protection.
By the following day, he had recovered much of his energy. I gave the letter I had written to Hirav, with instructions to send it as quickly as possible and then ride hard for Bhojakata, and then we departed.
Over the course of our journey, I came to one conclusion: Rama could not take the throne until he became more secure in his bearing, able to sort through the clamor around him. I worried in particular about the two years he had spent learning under Sage Vamadeva. How long would it take to undo? But that problem was not insurmountable. After all, Rama wanted to please those around him. There was nothing strange about that. Hadn’t I wanted to do the same? I had grown out of it in time and realized I could not stand to allow others to suffer when it was in my power to help. Rama would see that too, and learn the difference between whims and needs.
The forests grew darker as we approached Janasthana, the sounds of birds more haunting than melodic, and the nights a little blacker, with fewer stars scattered across the skies.
After our adventure in Shishir’s grove, we were far more careful. Our conversations grew quieter and less frequent as we contemplated our surroundings with a wary eye. We alternated sleeping, so that someone could always keep watch on the encroaching shadows.
On the final day of our journey, we were exhausted to our bones. When it was my turn to sleep, I passed into unconsciousness in a blink.
I awoke to a brightness behind my lids. For a moment, I thought it was simply daylight, and that I had woken naturally.
But as I opened my eyes, a bright flame burned itself into my vision. I pushed myself to my feet, blinking rapidly as the image before me clarified itself into a man holding a burning branch toward me, just as I had done to Shishir not so long ago.
No, not a man.
The lips of his bull head pulled back into a grotesque smile. “You do not look like a trader, woman.”
“Who are you?” I demanded. Over his shoulder, I saw Lakshmana slumped against a rock, almost unnaturally still, chest moving in shallow motions. “Lakshmana!” I shouted, but he did not stir. “What have you done to my son?”
“You must be Radnyi Kaikeyi,” he said, stepping closer. Behind me stretched the dark forest, no safer than what lay before me. I stood my ground.
“How do you know who I am?”
“I have been waiting for you.”
A sharp prick of fear slipped down my spine. Shishir had been waiting for me too. “Who are you?”
He extended the burning branch, and I watched the flames lick up his hand but leave no mark. My blood ran cold. I had thought him a rakshasa, a fearsome monster indeed, but such powers seemed beyond a mere rakshasa’s control. My mind rapidly sorted through all the information I had heard about the demonic presence that plagued Janasthana. He commanded an army. He commanded real magic.