“You acted as a friend should, and I turned on you. That was inappropriate. Please, let us not argue anymore.” He indicated a divan set before an open glass window overlooking a verdant garden. “Sit. We have more pressing matters to discuss.”
“The asura.” I had ventured through the city the day before and heard the whispers of Janasthana’s people. They spoke of swarms of imps, unnatural and vicious animals. They spoke of fields burned overnight. The women spoke of a demonic presence that invaded their minds even inside the city, insidious and whispering. It was like tales of the asuras of long ago, who scorched the earth with their campaigns against the gods.
“So you believe him an asura too. The truth is, we know very little. When I was traveling to the swayamvara, I stopped in Janasthana, for I was curious about the city. I have long admired the people of this area and thought to meet with the king and convince him we might achieve greatness together. But instead, the residents were fearful, talking of bad omens and portents, and Raja Danda was refusing all visitors.
“I passed through the city again on my return, hoping its fortunes might have changed. But when I arrived, I found the city under siege. Creatures made of flame and snarling wolves were terrorizing the people. Commanding them was an asura with the head of a bull and fire running over his limbs. I had soldiers with me, soldiers who were not tired out by days of fighting, and they were able to cut their way through the hordes. They built the walls while I met with the city’s leaders. I felt I had a duty to help them. I asked if they wished for my protection.”
“But what does an asura want with a city?” Asuras were the enemies of the gods. They rarely bothered themselves with human constructions, with mortal concerns.
Ravana looked away. “You will not like it—but he wishes to go to Ayodhya. I have to believe it is because he wishes to challenge Rama. In that, at least, I might sympathize.”
He spoke softly, placatingly, but it did not dull the offense of his words. “What do you have against Rama?” I asked sharply. “Are you still upset about the swayamvara?”
“No, not at—”
I rose to my feet, annoyed at the whims of men. “Then explain why I should not take my son and leave. I thought you were better than this.”
“Your son came with you?” he asked. “Which son?”
I turned toward the door, not bothering to answer.
“Wait, Kaikeyi!” he cried. “Sita is my daughter.”
That stilled me. I could not have possibly heard right. “What?”
“Sita. She is my daughter. I did not realize it until I saw her that day, at the swayamvara. If I had known, well—the moment I recognized her, I dropped the bow.”
There was truly nothing I could say. I stood there, staring blankly at him, my mind failing to comprehend his words.
“Please,” he said. “You have to believe me.”
“Your daughter died,” I said, my voice cold. It felt as though I were speaking from a distance. How dare he lie to me this way. Was he simply mad? Had the loss of his daughter and then his wife driven him to this outlandish story? “You told me this yourself.”
He hung his head. “I thought so too, I swear it. But then I saw her, and—she was unmistakable. She was born with the silver hair, the flower-shaped birthmark.”
Slowly, I was starting to come back to myself. I was aware of my heart beat returning to normal. “You could not have seen that from such a distance,” I protested.
“You know I am not fully human,” he said. “It is a blessing and a curse.”
His earnestness was making me believe him—but no. This had to be a falsehood. “You said your daughter died,” I repeated.
Ravana tipped his face up toward the window. The light cast strange shadows over his face. “We took her to the gardens because she liked being among the roses. I had taken her out of her carrier so she could better look at everything, and Mandodari called me to observe a strange pattern of birds. Sita could not walk or even crawl, so I laid her on the ground. The moment I did so, an almighty cracking sound issued from the dirt, and the earth split in two. I lunged for her, but she had already fallen in. I tried to throw myself in after her, but Mandodari wrapped her arms around me and pulled me back from the abyss. When I took a step away from the fault, it knit itself back together.”
“But you… but… How could such a thing happen?” I whispered.
“We thought it a punishment from the gods,” he said dully. “At first, we believed that if we repented fully, they would give her back to us. But then moons passed, and years, and we realized she was gone. No matter what we did, no matter how many pilgrimages I made, the gods would not look favorably on us again.”
I slipped into the Binding Plane, though he clearly believed in this story so deeply that our bond would show no evidence of deceit.
On the other hand, evidence existed that Ravana spoke truly. Sita was unmistakable, to be sure, but worse than that, I knew she had been discovered inside the earth itself. Sita had told me she and her father guarded that secret jealously. I did not see how Ravana could have uncovered that.
“Swear it to me, that you speak truly.”
“I swear to Lord Shiva that Sita is my daughter. If I lie, may he cut me with a thousand knives and feed me to beasts.”
I sank back onto the divan and closed my eyes, trying to force my mind into some semblance of order. For a moment, it had felt like the world was tilting beneath me. “Why are you telling me this now?”
Ravana sighed and passed a hand over his face. “Tell me, did Rama accompany you?” he asked.
“No. Lakshmana made the journey with me.”
“Good, good,” he said, almost to himself.
“I will not tell Lakshmana—or anyone else—what we have spoken of.” Ravana had once given me the gift of secrecy and protection. Now I would repay that debt.
He leaned forward and clasped my hand. “Thank you, Kaikeyi. I knew I could trust you. But there is something I must know. Is it true that Rama mistreats Sita?”
That was the second time he had dismissed Rama’s character. I tried not to be too angry. “Of course not. Where did you hear such a thing?”
“I hope you will not be offended if I say I have a few people in Ayodhya’s court keeping watch over Sita. But I cannot fully trust their accounts. After all, they are biased enough against Ayodhya to be willing to serve as spies.”
“Their marriage is young,” I said, giving him a diplomatic smile, even though the thought of spies in my palace unsettled me. “And so are they. She is not always happy, but it is not mistreatment, it is poor communication. They care for each other and are learning to be married. And he is yuvraja, not some asura. If you are worried for her, know that she trusts me, and she will come to me if she ever has real concerns. If need be, I will protect her, as I protect any and all women of my city.”
Ravana got to his feet and paced before me. “Your son is more than he seems. I saw that too, at the swayamvara. This asura—he wishes to burn a path to Ayodhya to prove his dominance. I am sure it is because of your son.” It sounded absurd, and yet—gods were reborn into this world in order to rid it of evil, and the gods and the asuras were eternal enemies. “I went back to Lanka to see if I could find anything more about this asura. I thought surely there would be something in Lanka’s great library. But I found nothing.”
“And I’m assuming Janasthana’s library was destroyed in the fire?” I asked.
Ravana looked up at me, startled. “No, they keep their books in cellars, and we rebuilt over them.”
“This asura is from their forest. Why wouldn’t—”
“Stupidity,” Ravana said immediately, rising to his feet. “Sheer stupidity.”
Of all things, that was easily forgiven.
I went home to collect Lakshmana, for his memory would be of great aid in this task. It turned out Raja Danda had an extensive collection of scrolls and no particular method of organizing them.
On the fourth day of our searching, I found Lakshmana, usually very industrious, sound asleep against a shelf. I shook him several times, but he would not wake. Just when I was beginning to fear some illness had taken him, his eyes snapped open.