Taking a seat nearby, I pulled the truth stone in my lap, looking at the girl who was depending on me. If I was going to save her, I had to figure out what to do next. “What can I offer her?” I murmured to it softly. “How can I pull my Ana out from this timeline?” The stone remained cold and dark. If there was an answer, either the stone didn’t know or couldn’t help me.
Every time we’d made an offering to the goddess before, we’d had a bell and I’d switched into tiger form. I couldn’t do that here and there wasn’t a bell among our meager possessions. Despite this, I set down a piece of fruit, a feather I’d found, a flask of water, and a warm coal from the fire. I thought by offering something to represent each element, I’d cover all my bases. Then I knelt beside her and bowed my head, touching it to the ground at her feet.
“Mighty Goddess,” I said, “I…I miss you. Please heed the summons of Damon, your tiger, and come back to me.”
Aside from a fiery spark that popped and flew up into the night sky, nothing happened. I tried again, mixing up my words, attempting to replicate the things I’d heard Kelsey say, but again there was no response. I even tried to make the trilling sound of a bell by pursing my lips, but then I just felt like a fool.
Eventually, I gave up and just lay down, resting my head on my hands as I looked up into the stars. “Tell me what to do,” I mumbled to the sky but the cold stars didn’t whisper back.
The next morning Ana stretched and handed me the saddle. It smelled of leather and oil and a muted, to my nose, version of her natural jasmine scent. As I secured the truth stone on the side of the horse, she asked hesitantly, “Will you teach me to use the knife? I want to be able to help you fight if someone comes for us.”
I froze for an instant, my hands against the saddle. “I…I can,” I said, clearing my throat and adjusting the reins without looking at her. “But first, you’ll have to learn how to take care of it.”
“I can do that,” she answered.
Turning, I studied her face and then gave her a brief nod. “We’ll begin our lessons when we rest the horse in the heat of the day.”
So began our training.
Anamika had a bright mind and she learned quickly. Once I taught her how to find just the right stone and sharpen her knife on its surface, she immediately set about working on it. Every ten minutes she’d hand it to me for inspection and I’d point out the places she’d missed. When she finished with her knife, she began working on the old sword. It was far too heavy for her to carry around but I let her tend to it regardless.
I wanted her to feel a sense of control. Being responsible for and taking care of my weapons was the first lesson Kadam had ever taught me, so that’s where I began. During the hours I spent with her on horseback, I talked about philosophy of battle, shared examples of wars I’d fought in and the reasons for them, and talked about the many times I’d had to learn things the hard way.
When I said that a man could hone his body and mind just as he did his weapons, she asked, “Can a woman do that as well?”
“Of course,” I replied. “A mind must be regularly sharpened just like a knife. To do this you must continually challenge yourself. It does not matter that you are female. I’ve often found that women naturally outthink men. Just remember that your mind is the most powerful weapon at your disposal. A brilliant idea can destroy an army. I’ve seen it happen.”
During the afternoons and evenings, I trained her in how to attack an enemy unawares, taught her how to evade physical attacks from enemies much larger than herself, and gave her mental puzzles to solve. She was bright and solved Kadam’s riddles much faster than I ever had.
After she fell asleep each night, I tried to summon the goddess again. Each attempt I made failed. Time was running out and I was beginning to feel desperate. Why hadn’t Kadam just told me what to offer? It didn’t make sense. I’d tried gifting her with small lizards and mice but they just wandered off. I found bird eggs and a garter snake but nothing I did was productive.
As we rode, I’d often stop to collect interesting things—a pretty leaf, a perfectly round stone, a flower—nothing worked. Anamika asked what I was doing, and when I said I was trying to gain the favor of a goddess, she began to help me look out for items of interest. Even with help from the young goddess herself, my efforts continued to be fruitless. When we met up with a lone trader, we gave him some of our rations in exchange for a colorful bit of cloth that reminded me of the Divine Scarf.
Although the cloth didn’t work, Ana appreciated the gift all the same. She wound the fabric around her hair or as a veil to shield herself from the blazing sun as we rode. Sensing my depression over my failed quest, she often asked me to tell her more stories of the tiger, and I readily acquiesced, regaling her with tales of our adventures, often making myself out to be the hero though she didn’t know it.
She especially loved the one with the tiger battling a great bear in the snow to save the life of a beautiful girl. I might have exaggerated the proportions of the bear, but she didn’t need to know that. Nor did she ask how a tiger was able to carry a girl down the mountain.
When we were quiet, I thought about what it would mean if I couldn’t accomplish my task. At least Ana was safe now. She’d grow up with Sunil. The older Ana obviously loved her brother. At least, in this time, she’d have him. He wouldn’t leave her if she never took on the role of the goddess. As for me, I could stay with her family. Maybe they’d take me in if I worked for them. I rubbed my stubbled jaw. I could do what Kadam did and train soldiers. I rationalized that there were worse things that could happen to us than being stuck with her in the past.
It wasn’t the future I’d envisioned for myself, and yes, the world would have to survive without the help of the goddess, but at least Ana was going home to people who loved her. That had become more important to me than anything else.
Kadam’s warnings still pricked on the back of my mind, but there was nothing else I could do but what I was already doing. I knew my mentor couldn’t ask me for more than that, and the ramifications of my failure were something I put far away from my conscious mind. As the days passed, Ana became all I cared about. All I focused on.
“Darkness can shield you,” I said one night as she poked a stick into the fire after we’d finished our training. “Do you remember the tiger that attacked us?”
She nodded.
“Tigers use the grass and brush to hide. Their coats blend into their surroundings. Invisibility is the best weapon they have. You might think it is their teeth or their claws. Those are indeed powerful, but the animals they hunt are fast. Stealth is very important to a tiger’s survival. Use this to your advantage.”
Ana wrinkled her brows in puzzlement. “You want me to dress like a tiger, Kishan?”
“No,” I answered. I’d pondered using a different name around her, but I figured if we were stuck in the past, it wouldn’t matter, and if I somehow did manage to summon the goddess, we could take away young Ana’s memories of me just like Anamika had wiped herself from my mind all those years ago. Getting back to her question, I answered, “My point is to use your outward appearance to fool others into assuming less. It would be like hiding in plain sight.”
“I don’t understand.”
I ran a hand through my hair. “You are a beautiful woman…girl, I mean. No one would assume you are also a good fighter. All they will see is what’s on the outside. Men are especially guilty of this. They let their guard down because they can’t imagine a woman will best them. That will be the time for you to strike.”
She nodded stridently and then her expression warmed into something sweet and saccharine. She blinked her eyes rapidly and tossed her braid over her shoulder. “You mean like this?” she asked, her eyes gleaming in the firelight.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, exactly.” Reaching over, I tugged on her braid. “No one would expect someone as adorable as you to have a knife stuck up her sleeve.”
Ana’s face fell. “I wish I’d had a knife when I was taken.”
“I do too.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered though. They probably would have searched me and seized it.”