Deven gapes at Brother Shaan as though he has lost all sense.
“But demons don’t progress,” I say. “So what are bhutas?”
Brother Shaan lays a reverent palm on the book. “In his wisdom, Anu created each mortal in the image of the gods. Sky in our lungs, land beneath our feet, fire in our souls, and water in our blood. When the first four mortals achieved the highest form of reincarnation, Anu gave them dominion over these powers. The First Bhutas’ divine path was to help mankind achieve balance between their inner elements through the five godly virtues. They were our Virtue Guards. Mankind has since turned on our chosen guides.”
His words resonate through my perplexity. The more I think about it, the more plausible it is that bhutas received their gifts from Anu. The demon Kur has dominion over the Void but not over fire, water, land, and air. As the Parijana faith teaches, those are godly realms.
Deven touches his temple and closes his eyes. “You’re saying bhutas are good?”
Brother Shaan nods. “Soon after the death of his first wife, Rajah Tarek raided the homes of the bhutas living in Vanhi and executed them. The bhutas defended themselves, and Tarek retaliated with increased bloodshed. He began to exterminate them in droves, and he removed those around him who opposed the war. He raided the vestry and destroyed all records that exalted bhutas above man. In a matter of years, centuries of teaching were lost. I was Tarek’s private counselor at the time.” Brother Shaan’s voice quakes, his gaze dull with regret. “I raised him from a boy. Tarek always had headstrong tendencies, but I never thought . . .”
“Tarek started the rank tournaments around that same time,” I say.
“He blamed the gods for Yasmin’s death. I warned him that those who persecute Anu’s bhutas will bring down the wrath of a falling sky. He refused to listen, and I was forced to resign.”
Deven sits back, thunderstruck. “Why don’t you preach these things to the people if they’re the truth?”
“I swore I wouldn’t. It was the only way Tarek would spare me.”
Deven hangs his head between his knees and runs his hands through his hair.
I take the book from Brother Shaan. “What do you know about the Zhaleh? Did the rajah take it from the bhutas?”
“Yes. Bhuta powers are passed from parent to child,” he says. I force myself to hold his stare, my lungs wrung of all breath. “The record of their lineage is documented in the Zhaleh. This list is an ideal resource for someone seeking to wipe out bhutas.”
“The rajah is using their book of lineage to hunt them?”
“And has done so quite successfully. There were thousands of bhutas in Tarachand seventeen years ago. Those who have not fled the borders are now dead or in hiding.”
Deven lifts his head, his expression cold. “If the rajah wants them dead, why don’t they all run and hide?”
“The Zhaleh warns of a fifth power.” With Bhuta Origins still open to the drawing of Anu, Brother Shaan points to a face I did not before notice, hidden in the shadows. “Demon Kur was in attendance that day. He disagreed with Anu’s decision to bestow upon mortals these godly powers, so he took it upon himself to employ his abilities in a fifth mortal. In that dark hour, the demon Kur created a Voider, who could rend the sky from the land, destroying all life. The First Bhutas’ mission was to trap the Voider. After they did so, they hid the secret of how they captured the Voider in the Zhaleh. But the same powers that confine the Voider can also release him. Whoever has the book can set him loose. Every bhuta leader protected the Zhaleh until Rajah Tarek took hold of it. If the rajah opens the Void . . .”
I shudder, thinking of the horror Tarek could unleash.
Deven gets to his feet. “We’re out of time, Kali. Skill demonstrations start soon.”
Brother Shaan tucks the book into my satchel. “Keep this hidden. If you have any more questions, you know how to reach me.” We rise, and he faces Deven. “Brother Deven—”
“Captain Naik,” Deven says, correcting him.
“Captain, I understand this was difficult for you to hear, but I hope you will come to see that this war is an abomination in the sight of the gods.”
Deven manages a brusque nod, and we leave. Worries cloud my thoughts. I had hoped that hearing that bhutas are Anu’s children would relieve my uncertainties, but the breadth of Tarek’s hatred for bhutas has undone any chance for peace of mind.
Deven stops me outside the entrance to the wives’ wing. “Don’t expect anything from the bhutas, Kali. They have been active participants in the war as long as the rajah. They’re loyal to no one, not even their own.”
“You still don’t believe bhutas could be good?” I quiet my breath, praying that Brother Shaan’s words have softened him.
Deven’s eyes go flat. “I believe what I have seen all my life.”
I nod, my chest caving in. Brother Shaan gave a fair explanation for why the bhutas are at war with us, but not why Yasmin’s death drove Tarek to eradicate them. We are missing part of the story.
Deven rests a hand on my shoulder. “I’m going to assign you another guard. You will have two with you at all times. The Burner won’t get close to you again.”
I manage another nod, though it is not the Burner I fear, but myself.
We start to my chamber, my legs weighing heavier with each step. I wish that I could undo everything that has happened since I met the Burner. I wish that I could go back to when I had fevers, nothing more. I wish that I could be that sickly girl from the temple. I knew who I was then. Now I cannot trust my own hands.
Anu, please do not let this be true. I will adhere to the five virtues. I will obey everything asked of me. Just please, do not let me be an enemy to the rajah, to Deven, to the empire.
I listen with my heart, but my only answer comes from my pulse, a ticking timepiece propelling me closer and closer to a ledge from which there is no escape.
19
The gardens are set for skill demonstrations. The rajah’s court—benefactors, ranis, and courtesans—cluster under silk tents, hiding from the sun like lizards under a rock. From the terrace above, I watch the wide strip of greenery where my contenders are taking turns showing off. Perspiration makes my blouse cling to my back, and a hot wind blasts my exposed skin.
Parisa hands me a chalice of chilled spiced wine. “You need this more than I do.”
I accept the cup, the welcome cold biting into my fingers, but do not sample it. I must be clearheaded for my performance. I am slated to present last, wherein I will have thirty seconds to astonish this throng of drunken benefactors and validate my place as the rajah’s champion. Tension builds at the base of my skull. Our battle skills are a sign of devotion to Ki. They should not be diminished to entertainment. But refusing to perform would forfeit my opportunity to establish that I am not a weak contender.
Fareeshah pitches an ax across the field, and its sharp head decapitates a bush.