"That's what he meant," said Mirri, "when he talked about taming wild creatures."
"How he tames them-you don't want to know." Akka shuddered. "They don't last long. He's always in the market for new ones. From what the parrots told me, he doesn't treat his people any better. They hate him, but there's not much they can do. They say Ashwara's coming back someday to save them. Nahusha laughs at that; it doesn't bother him."
"Why so?" Tamar asked. "Does he have that strong an army? How many warriors? War chariots?" Akka shrugged. "I don't know. He kept me in the palace; I never saw any of that. One thing: He's got a plan of some sort. I overheard him talking with his officers."
"No details? Anything that might help Ashwara?"
"I only know what the parrots told me."
"It seems to me," said Mirri, "Nahusha doesn't have all that many troops. Why would he want help from Bala? He's up to something, and it sounds like trouble for Ashwara."
"I'm afraid you're right, and nothing we can do about it." Tamar turned to Hashkat. "And you? Now that you've found Akka?"
"By and large, I'd just as soon stay clear of humans. We should say farewell and I'll go back to my Bandar-loka." Hashkat's brow puckered. He chewed at his lips a moment, then quickly went on. "No. It's not in my heart to leave you or even the gopi, though she did crown me with a bucket." Hashkat put his palms together. "Let me go with you. I owe you my life; I haven't forgotten. Besides, you never know when a monkey might be useful."
"Ashwara said you were more a king than he supposed," Tamar answered. "I'd say: Better than a king, a friend. Yes, be at my side when my journey ends."
"I'll be there, as well," Adi-Kavi said. "As I told you, I'm curious to know what happens to you in Mahapura. You may turn out to be a fool, a dreamer, or both. In any case, I've taken a liking to you."
"Be welcome, then." Tamar broke off and motioned all to keep silent. Beyond the edge of the clearing, faint sounds grew louder. He glanced at Mirri. "Nahusha's warriors?"
The horses had begun whinnying and stamping. Rajaswami defensively gripped his umbrella. Akka had already scrambled up a tree, with Garuda flapping after.
The vines and overgrowth ripped apart. Still dragging the stake roped to her leg, the elephant burst into the clearing. Seeing Tamar draw his sword, she trumpeted a shrill scream. Eyes rolling, ears standing out from the gray dome of her head, she lunged with speed surprising for her bulk. The blade spun from Tamar's hand as she lashed her trunk around his waist and swung him into the air.
16. Elephant Hunters
Tamar twisted back and forth, struggling to get free of the trunk coiled around him. Mirri started forward. Adi-Kavi stepped ahead of her, arms outstretched. Seeing what she took to be a new attacker, the elephant flung Tamar to the ground and, bellowing, swung her head toward the suta and made ready to charge.
Before she could launch herself against him, Adi-Kavi strode deliberately to the distraught animal. Tamar shouted a warning. Paying no heed, the suta laid his hands on the creature's trunk, all the while murmuring sounds that Tamar could not understand. The elephant reared up on her massive legs. Tamar ran to pick up his blade.
"Stay away!" the suta called over his shoulder. "Don't come near her. Drop the sword."
The tone of command in Adi-Kavi's voice made Tamar, still alarmed, do instantly as the suta ordered. The elephant hesitated, as if uncertain whether or not to resume her charge. Adi-Kavi fixed his eyes on her and seemed to hold her with his gaze. The big animal drew back, panting and snuffling. As Tamar watched in astonishment, she gradually sank to her hindquarters. Adi-Kavi continued his murmuring. At last, the elephant lowered her head. The suta nodded and turned away.
"She's terrified," Adi-Kavi said. "Let her rest. She's more afraid of us than we of her."
"I'm sure she is," Mirri said, going to the elephant's side and gently stroking her trunk. "Poor thing, we don't mean to harm you."
The elephant heaved a huge sigh and fanned herself with her ears. "I'm sorry," she said. "Whatever came over me-forgive me; it's never happened before."
"You can speak?" Tamar stared at her.
"Not usually," said the elephant. "Never, in fact, since I've been in captivity. If Nahusha knew I could talk, who knows what more he'd make me do."
"He won't do anything to you now," Mirri said.
"I hope not." The elephant snuffled. "My name is Arvati," she added. "Nahusha brought me with him so I could show off the tricks I'd learned."
"We're not fond of Nahusha," Mirri said. "I hope you trampled him a little before you ran off."
"Oh, no, I'd never do anything like that," Arvati replied. "I've been well trained. As for running off, I don't know what possessed me. I suppose I lost my head for a moment. It just seemed to happen. I didn't mean to." Arvati's whole bulk shuddered. "They'll punish me, of course, once they get me back."
"Get you back?" Mirri exclaimed. "How? You're a grown elephant; you're more than a match for them. You've made a good start. Keep going. Find your herd."
"If only I could." Arvati sighed. "This forest has been my ancestors' home since the Golden Age. Naturally, I inherited their power to speak-if I choose to.
"I've always dreamed of being with my herd again," she went on. "But it's too late. I don't know how to make my way in the wilds anymore. I'm sure to be recaptured."
"Yes, if you sit and wait," Tamar said. "Do as Mirri tells you."
"No," said Arvati. "Now I've calmed down and can think more clearly, I'll go back on my own. That way, they'll see I was simply confused and they won't punish me too badly."
"Don't count on it," said Mirri. "You're better off in the forest. Here's your chance to be free of them."
"You don't understand. I'm afraid to do anything else. Nahusha's hunters captured me when I was a calf. I had a gentle nature; so, instead training me to be a war elephant, they taught me to do tricks. I'm used to that now."
"You see what they've done," Mirri said to Tamar. "She's been so beaten and cowed, she hardly knows anything else."
"Nahusha won't get his hands on her again," Tamar said. "We can't leave her. We'll keep her with us until she can look after herself. But Nahusha won't let her get away that easily. My guess is he's already sent his people to track her down."
"Then," said Mirri, "we can't stand around waiting for them."
"That's just what we're going to do," Tamar said. "We have to deal with them. If we don't, they'll stay on her trail-which means they'll be on our trail as well."
"Right," said Hashkat, judging Arvati safe enough to approach. "She'll leave a path even a blind man could follow."
"Take her deeper into the forest," Tamar told Mirri. "I'll wait behind with Hashkat. We'll take the hunters by surprise, and that's the end of them."
"The warrior's way again," said Mirri.
"The only way I know. But-yes, I should have listened to you before. I'd be glad to listen to you now, if you have a better plan."
"Let me suggest what should settle the matter," put in Adi-Kavi. "I, for one, would relish it-it's the sort of thing that suits me more than bloodshed."
"Nor am I eager for bloodshed," Tamar said after the suta explained his scheme. "But-can you make the trackers believe you?" Adi-Kavi chuckled. "Don't forget I was a royal crier. If I can make a dimwitted lummox think himself a wise and noble king, I don't see any difficulty."
Following the suta's instructions, they tethered the horses out of sight and led Arvati into the screen of underbrush a little way down the forest track. In a small clearing, they set about their other preparations while Adi-Kavi turned back and, staying within eye shot of them, hunkered down on the ground.
From his perch in the fork of a tree, Tamar watched uneasily as the hunting party made its way through the bushes: the elephant master himself, carrying a long pole with a sharp iron point and hook at the end; three of his fellows bearing coils of rope; a packhorse laden with a net, shackles, and chains.
At sight of them, Adi-Kavi leap
ed up and ran toward the elephant master, wringing his hands and begging for help.
"Be off, whoever you are." The elephant master roughly pushed Adi-Kavi aside. "We've no help to give, you scruffy lout. There's serious work at hand. Our king's elephant ran away. She's not long gone; her tracks are fresh."
That moment, at a signal from Tamar, Arvati trumpeted loudly enough to rattle the leaves. "Out of my way," ordered the elephant master. "She's here under our noses."
"Wait! Wait!" cried Adi-Kavi. "Stay back. It's worth your life. She's dangerous."
"She won't be, not when she has a look at this." The elephant master grinned and held up the pole. "She knows what it means. A little taste of the hook, she'll be gentle as a lamb."
With Adi-Kavi tugging at their garments and stammering out warnings, the hunters pressed on to the clearing. The elephant master stopped short: "What the devil is this?"
At the farther edge of the clearing-one end of the rope tied to the wooden stake set in the ground, the other knotted around his ankle-stood Hashkat.
17. The Rakshasa
Hashkat's face and body were striped with yellow clay. His hair bushed out to make him look nearly twice his size. Leaves and vines twined around his head and waist. He slapped his chest, shrieked, hooted, and flung himself about at the end of the rope.
"Devil, indeed," wailed Adi-Kavi. "A rakshasa! A demon! Keep away. That fiend can tear you apart," he warned, as Hashkat dropped to all fours, gnashing his teeth while he bounced up and down, sticking out his tongue and wagging it horribly.
"I confess," blurted Adi-Kavi, as the elephant master gaped. "I found your elephant wandering in the forest. I meant to steal her. I knew she'd be worth a fortune.
"No sooner do I tie her down than she turns into a rakshasa. I was lucky to get away with my life."
"You're out of your wits." The elephant master nevertheless drew back uneasily. "Arvati changed into a demon? What lunacy are you telling me?"
"I've heard tales like that." One of the trackers exchanged frightened glances with his fellows. "No question, it happens."
"It's this forest," Adi-Kavi whispered fearfully. "It's always been full of demons. One of them pounced out and took possession of her. Well, you deal with her. I'm not risking life and limb. I won't even ask a reward for finding her.
"Best do your work quickly," he urged. "The longer that demon stays there, the bigger it'll grow. Then you'll have no chance at all."
"You seem to know a lot about demons," the elephant master began.
"More than I like. I've seen a few in my day and lived to regret it. At least I lived-which is better than some can say."
"What do you think?" the elephant master said, with mounting discomfort. "Will she ever change back again?"
"Oh, yes. Once you've got that demon tied hand and foot. If it sees it can't move, it'll be gone in a flash-poof! and there's your elephant again."
"Here's your dear little Arvati," Hashkat called out in a hoarse growl. He rolled his eyes and snapped his teeth. "Come closer. I missed breakfast; I've been hungry all morning." He beckoned to the elephant master. "You first, Sala."
"She speaks?" gasped the elephant master. "Before, she never said a word."
"She wasn't a rakshasa then." Adi-Kavi turned to leave. "Well, good-bye, all. I wish you the best of luck. By that, I mean I hope you won't be too badly chewed up."
"Hold on." Sala seized Adi-Kavi by the tail of his vest. "You're not going anywhere. You know the ways of these demons. You give us a hand."
"Oh, no, I'm too fond of being alive," Adi-Kavi protested. "Ah if you insist," he added, as the elephant master shook the goad at him. "All right, unload the packhorse. Get those shackles ready. Is that a net I see? Excellent. We'll use it for a start."
The trackers, by this time, were trembling so violently they could hardly follow the suta's directions. When at last they unrolled the net, Adi-Kavi nodded approval.
"Stay close together, shoulder to shoulder," he ordered. "Hold up that net as high as you can. Wait, I'll take one end. Easy, now. No sudden moves. Walk toward her. Get ready to throw it."
As the trackers approached, Hashkat strained menacingly at his tether. They shrank back, but Adi-Kavi urged them on.
"Never fear, you'll soon have your elephant again. Oh one thing I forgot to mention. Don't look. Turn your heads away. Keep watching and that demon could change you all into rakshasas. Better yet, close your eyes. I'll tell you the moment to open them."
The trackers, ever more frightened, squeezed their eyes shut. Adi-Kavi guided them toward Hashkat; but, as they stumbled closer, the suta led them past him to the edge of the clearing. Hashkat, at the same time, untied himself, pulled up the stake, and sprang silently behind them, taking hold of one end of the net. Glancing at him, Adi-Kavi nodded and suddenly shouted: "Help! Help! The rakshasa's loose!"
Tamar and Mirri, meanwhile, sped to help Adi-Kavi and Hashkat. By the time the trackers realized they were being set upon-not by demons, but by human beings and an oversized monkey-it was too late; the net was wrapped around them. Tamar ran to fetch the chains and bound Arvati's pursuers all the more securely. The packhorse had already bolted in alarm. Rajaswami trotted from his hiding place to lend a hand hauling Sala and his fellows into the brush.
Certain that Arvati's would-be captors were well tangled in their own chains and net, Tamar signaled Mirri and the others to retrieve the horses. Arvati, with Akka crouched on her head and Garuda on her haunches, plunged through the forest. The trackers' cries of rage had long since faded in the distance when Arvati's rescuers halted. Tears of joy rolled from the elephant's eyes. "Am I really free? No more hooks and goads? It feels so strange; I don't quite know what to do."
"You'll stay with us as long as you want," Tamar said. "Hashkat, you made a fine demon. You almost frightened me. And you, suta, I'm ready to believe you can convince anybody of anything."
"I'm the one who scared the wits out of them," crowed Hashkat. "They won't come after us now. If they get loose, what will they do? Slink back to Nahusha? They lost his elephant; he'll have their heads for it. If they're wise, they'll quietly make themselves scarce."
"No bloodshed, in any case," Tamar said to Mirri, as Hashkat went to scrub off the streaks of clay.
"I found it entirely satisfactory," said Rajaswami. "Indeed, rather stimulating. Goodness me, I was tempted to give those ruffians a good whacking with my umbrella."
"Is this my old acharya speaking?" Tamar grinned at him. "Talking about whacking people?"
"An impulse is one thing; doing it is something else," Rajaswami said. "Fortunately, I resisted. Sooner or later, someone's bound to find them," he assured Tamar. "They may be uncomfortable for a time; but, looking on the bright side, it will be beneficial and instructive for them to reflect, while they're waiting: Let patience ever be your goal. It helps to fortify the soul."
So as to stay well away from Nahusha and his warriors, Tamar had chosen to avoid the river road and keep to the forest, in spite of the heavy undergrowth and dense woodlands. He could not have asked for better help from Arvati.
Lumbering ahead, the elephant was able to clear a good path, trampling down thick brush and flinging aside dead branches. For all her bulk and strength, she was a gentle, sweet-natured creature. She willingly let Akka perch on her brow, where he chattered with delight at this new means of transportation. When Rajaswami grew saddle-weary, he ventured to ride on her back, holding his umbrella over his head and beaming happily. Arvati's kindly disposition even had a calming effect on Garuda, who moaned and wailed somewhat less than usual.
"I never reckoned on an elephant for a traveling companion," Tamar said with a bemused laugh, when they halted at nightfall. "Even so, I'm glad we have one." Mirri had come to sit close beside him, while Hashkat and Akka curled by the small fire and Rajaswami nodded drowsily.
The big suta stretched out his legs and clasped his hands behind his head. "A good deed, King of Sundari, which gains merit for al
l of you."
"Merit gained by accident?" Tamar said. "We hadn't planned on rescuing an elephant."
"Does it matter?" Adi-Kavi shrugged his burly shoulders.
"Merit is merit, however it's gained. Intention? That's one thing. What you end up doing? That's another. As happened with the thief and the spider. Let me tell you:
"Late one night, a thief crept into a wealthy merchant's house. Oh-first, you should know he was a young thief, without experience. He had fallen on lean times and decided that burglary was a more straightforward career than law or politics, and an occupation immediately at hand. In fact, this was his first professional appearance.
"And so he had planned everything carefully. He closely observed the merchant's house and the merchant's habits: what time he went to bed; which doors or windows would be most easily opened. Once inside the house, while the merchant was safely snoring away, the thief calculated he could search the place at his leisure and find where the valuables were hidden.
"All went marvelously well at first. He found, as he expected, an unlatched window and wriggled easily and silently through it into the merchant's storeroom. From the bedchamber, he could hear the merchant snorting and snuffling happily in dreamland. But, groping his way through the dark room, he stubbed his bare toe against a table leg.
"Choking back a yelp of pain, terrified of waking the merchant, he smacked himself on the forehead and cursed himself for a fool. He was, as I told you, a mere beginner; and, for all his planning, he had neglected to bring a light.
"In the dimness, however, he was able to make out an oil lamp on the table. He fumbled in his garments, pulled out flint and steel, and struck a spark. The wick flared brightly, and he gave a sigh of relief As he picked up the lamp, a small spider scuttled out from under its base."
"Thank you for saving my life," said the spider. "Before he went to bed, the merchant set this lamp down on top of me so I couldn't escape. If you hadn't come along, I wouldn't have lasted the night; indeed, I'd have perished miserably, far from my web and my brood of little ones."