After the first moon, people stopped watching to see if the gods would punish us for so flagrantly disregarding their edicts. Instead, members of the city trickled in to seek audiences: the poor who could not make trips to the palace for open court, those with problems they did not wish to bring to male advisors, and those whose pleas for help had been turned away everywhere else.
Was Dasharath proud, I wondered, that we were saving women from husbands who spoke only with their fists? That Kaushalya and I had modified grain storage quotas to distribute food to children on the streets, that Sumitra had employed homeless women in the palace kitchens? That we were conceiving of projects at the Women’s Council that I would then bring to the Mantri Parishad to complete?
The last was not our only work, of course, but it was what I loved the most. I think Kaushalya enjoyed resolving disputes, and Sumitra loved best matters of the heart. On occasion we would get young couples, who professed their love for each other despite their families’ disapproval, hoping for the Women’s Council’s blessing. Sumitra loved to hear their stories and bless the matches. Even Kaushalya occasionally became interested and joined in. They thought me shy when it came to such matters, for I would sit back quietly, but in fact I had nothing to add. No such feelings for Dasharath, or any person, had ever surfaced in me. I was comfortable with my husband, loved him as a dear friend, but the pull of romance meant nothing to me. I could be happy for those in love, but I could not understand.
Fortunately, most of the Women’s Council’s business concerned matters at which I was more skilled.
This particular day was quite cool, clouds covering the sun and a brisk breeze stirring through the gardens. “Step up,” I called to the next person in line, and shifted my shawl over my arms as an older woman approached. Her sari pallu obscured part of her face. “What is your name?”
“Dhanteri, your majesty,” the woman said.
It was like someone had plucked me from my seat and dropped me back into that chilly stone corridor in my father’s palace, standing by a door next to Yudhajit, both of us longing for our mother.
I could not forget that voice. Instantly I began to sweat, despite the cool air. I tried to recall the face of the woman who always stood behind my mother, but it kept slipping away.
I checked the Binding Plane almost instinctively and quickly recognized it: one of the first threads I had ever followed. It was merely a wisp now, and perhaps I would have once struggled to locate it. But in the washed-out world of the true Binding Plane, even the smallest bonds stood out in stark relief.
“Dhanteri,” I said, grateful that my voice remained steady. “Former lady-in-waiting to my mother, Kekaya.”
“Yes. I am so glad to see you again, Radnyi Kaikeyi. You have grown so much.”
An inane comment, considering I had been barely out of girlhood when she had departed. Of course I had grown. And Dhanteri did not sound glad to see me in the slightest. She had lowered her pallu but still held herself rigid, like a single hard line connected her creased forehead and her clenched legs. The stiff pleats of her light blue sari and the severe bun sitting high atop her head did little to soften her image.
“It is good to see you too,” I said, but I leaned back in my chair. “How can I help you?”
“The last time I saw you, you were only twelve? Thirteen? To see you now, a radnyi of the Kosala kingdom, brings me great joy.”
“Indeed, I was thirteen.” I kept my tone neutral. Dhanteri’s face fell an infinitesimal amount. Had she really expected such mundane flattery to work? At our last meeting, she had threatened Manthara.
I crossed my ankles and waited.
Dhanteri approached me, and the palace guard that typically accompanied us stepped forward to intercept her. It must have galled her, to be treated like a commoner. I lifted my hand in a purposefully lazy motion and the guard fell back.
“There are others who seek an audience,” I said. “What is it you want?”
“I have news,” Dhanteri said. “About your mother.”
And there it was.
She must be after money, or a job in the palace, and she planned to blackmail me with my mother’s shame. It would not work. “What sort of news?”
“Perhaps it would be best to speak of it in private,” Dhanteri suggested.
“You came to the Women’s Council to seek an audience with me,” I said. “And now you have it. Please tell me what you wish to say.”
“Your mother did not leave the court of her own choosing.” Dhanteri lowered her voice as if to keep her words between us, but I knew she intended others to hear.