“And the slave children,” Ana’s father said, “were they working in the home?”
“Some did,” I answered. “Others were kept for the master’s vile affections. I’m sorry to say that Anamika was one of these.”
The men surrounding us gasped and rose to their feet, outraged. The only one to remain in his seat was Anamika’s father. His hands trembled as he closed his eyes. “And where is this man now?”
“I assume he is dead since I stabbed him in the throat.” I leaned closer and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Truly, I am sorry that I could not save her before she was sold.”
“As am I, Kishan. As am I.”
Anamika’s father looked like he’d aged ten years in the space of ten minutes. The men began talking of revenge and asked if I could lead them back to the compound. They speculated as to which caravan was responsible and talked of how many other men they could muster to their cause. All the while Ana’s father sat, unmoving and stiff.
“Could you do it?” he asked.
“Lead them back?” I nodded slowly. “I could. But there are many men at this compound. They’re trained soldiers and mercenaries. As fitting and proper as it would be to rain vengeance upon their heads, you’d need an army to defeat them. They have more weapons than I’ve seen in one place in many years. In my opinion, it would be foolhardy to engage them in open confrontation.”
The air had become tense and tight. I understood how difficult it was to sit and do nothing. I chafed at the notion as well but I knew that revenge rarely soothed a troubled mind.
We sat together speaking softly for many hours. It was as if we were trapped inside a bubble filled with poisonous air. The more the men spoke of the blood they wanted to spill, the more the poison seeped into us, stiffening our limbs and blinding our eyes. It was interesting to me that the one man who didn’t have an aura was the most silent regarding Anamika’s capture.
The sun rose and I took my leave of the men, asking if I could walk in the garden. Anamika’s father joined me. He seemed lost in thought and I was content to be quiet. When he turned down a path, I followed him and was surprised when he stopped at a small monument.
“What is this?” I asked.
“A cenotaph for Anamika,” he said. The man laughed briefly. “Her mother was so upset when I had it made.” He turned to me. His eyes were bloodshot and watery. “I gave up on her, you see, but Mika’s mother never did. She’s much stronger than I am. Full of faith.” Raising a hand, he added, “Don’t tell her I said so, though. I’d never hear the end of it.” Crouching down, he picked off a few spent blossoms near the base of the memorial and tossed them aside.
“It’s a lovely gesture,” I said lamely, not knowing how to respond.
“Is it?” he asked. “Or is it just a monument to my own weaknesses?”
“You think it a weakness not to defend her honor,” I guessed.
“Yes. Would you not feel the same?”
“I do feel the same,” I answered sympathetically. “He deserved to die and I believe he did.”
“But you aren’t certain.”
“No. It was more important to save the children than to assure myself of his demise.”
“We are lucky to have a man such as you come into our lives.”
I was going to say it was I who was the fortunate one. To have known Ana in all the ways I now knew her was a gift. She was special. Instead of telling him that, which would have been strange coming from a person they barely knew, I just thanked him and headed back into the house.
As I did, he asked the question I’d been waiting for. “Why?” he mumbled quietly. “Why did you risk so much for us? For her?”
I’d known that question was coming, and as much as I racked my brain, I never came up with something that sounded reasonable. I felt his eyes on my back, willing me to answer. Almost without thinking, I said, “A girl I loved once was destroyed by such a man. I was unable to prevent her death. The grief nearly killed me. I could not let such a thing happen again. Not when I had the ability to save her.”
He said nothing in response so I left him in his ruminations.
***
Days passed and I was no closer to figuring out how to pull my Ana from her younger version. I made a sacrifice every evening—lighting candles and making offerings to the goddess. Ana’s mother had given me a little bell, and she made sure all the household left me alone when I wandered the garden paths.
When she’d first asked what I was doing, I told her I was praying for Ana. She was the one who’d suggested using the garden. In fact, her faith in me was so certain she began asking me what things I needed after evening meal every night. She didn’t balk when I asked for candles, feathers, bits of fabric, or mangos. Once, she came with me. I murmured my words silently that night and she must have sensed my discomfort because she left me alone after that.
During the days, I sat by Ana’s side. I read to her, and when we were left alone, I talked to her as she slept on, telling her everything I missed about being with her. She seemed to be healthy enough. Despite not eating and not really drinking, her body was healing. I didn’t know if that was the magic of the goddess or of the snakebite, but either way, I was grateful.
Taking the pieces of the truth stone, I attempted to put them together again, thinking to refashion the phoenix egg, but the pieces didn’t seem to fit. I hefted one of the larger pieces and thought I might be able to nick off the sharp point, so, one afternoon, I pulled out my knife and touched it to the stone. It took some effort at first, but I found that when I positioned the knife at the right angle, the stone peeled away like wood. When that edge was smooth, I started working on another side, thinking I could fashion a pretty gem that could hang around Ana’s neck.
After a month, there was still no change in Ana. I had become a fixture in the household and often went out hunting or helping Anamika’s father, but I made a point to sit by Ana’s bedside every day and carve. Ana’s mother wondered at this but her father told her to let me be, that I would heal my own hurts by being near her. He didn’t know how true his words were.
I finished a small piece of the stone and had turned it into a tiger. It sat in a small box in my room next to the snake. The serpent was slowly growing but she managed to hide herself well enough when anyone entered my room. I brought her water and little mice I found in the barn but she ignored the mice, letting them scurry away. I wasn’t sure what magical snakes ate. In fact, I’d never seen Fanindra eat before so maybe they didn’t need to.
The man who had no aura was soon caught leaving the grounds with a precious collection of knives. He was followed, and after some intense questioning, he confessed to conspiring with the trader to capture Anamika. Apparently, he’d been paid a generous fee for his assistance. In exchange for leading a team of men to the trader, who was quickly dispatched, he was allowed to live.
To thank the slave woman for her help, Anamika’s father sought out her owner. He bought her freedom and sent her to the couple caring for all the rescued children along with three camels loaded with supplies and enough money to provide for all of them. A letter came saying that three of children had been returned to their families but the others had yet to be located.