I cradled Avani against me, elated by the sound of her heart beating and her breathing and her warmth and the color returning to her face. She clung to me, exhausted and depleted by her ordeal, as glad to rest in my arms as I was to have her there. After a few moments, though, she sat upright with a frantic look in her eyes, exclaiming, "The babies!" She placed her hands against her belly, and then a moment later slumped back against me in relief, evidently feeling some movement from within. I stroked her hair and told her what the foxes had told me, including their final message to her. Her eyes glittered for a moment, hard and cold, then she looked up at me and her gaze softened again.

Meanwhile, the shadows were beginning to lengthen, and it appeared to be late afternoon or early evening. Sharmila glanced up at the sky, then at Avani before she looked at me. "I think we'd best get her to the village. Although Avani has two houses there, I would feel better under the circumstances if you would stay with us instead. Our house has plenty of room for everyone," she said, turning to glance at Dylas to include him in her invitation.

"I'm afraid, too, that we will need to call a meeting of the tribe," Rishi added. "It can wait until tomorrow, but upon our return, I must inform Kokila of her son's... demise. And I'm afraid she will want to speak with you, my love—she will not be pleased by this news. I will try to put her off for now, to let you rest...."

Avani shook her head. "No, Rishi. I'll see her. I will tell her of his death myself."

I looked up at Sharmila and Rishi, and after a moment, Rishi nodded. "All right, my sister. You may do this thing. But please take Leon with you—I can feel how vulnerable you are at present."

"I'm coming, too," Dylas called as he and Chanda headed towards us. "You know... just in case you need me."

I started to protest, then thought better of it. I'd seen what the son could do—I couldn't begin to guess what the mother might be like. I nodded my head, then I stood and lifted Avani up in my arms. "Then as soon as you're ready," I said, looking at Sharmila.

Chanda closed the gap and joined us, but Dylas stopped and said, "Hang on. There's something I want to do first." He strode over to the lone tree where Bhima's great sword stuck fast, embedded in the large limb. Gripping the hilt in his hands, he gave a loud yell as he pulled with all his might. The sword came free, and he staggered to regain his footing. Then he approached the blighted ground where Bhima had disintegrated not so long ago, and stood glaring down at it, his jaw clenched. Then he raised the sword high above his head and with another shout, he drove the blade down through the center of the black stain and into the rock below. He spat on the cloven earth and muttered, "Too bad you can only die once. A thousand deaths wouldn't be enough." Then he joined us, blushing as he became aware of our eyes on him, astonished by his display of pent-up hatred and rage.

Sharmila began to reach out her hand to us in preparation to teleport, when Avani suddenly looked over at her. "Wait... what was that again? What did you say a minute ago? Two houses?"

"Let's get you back to the village, my love. I'll explain after you've eaten and rested," Rishi said, tucking his wife's arm into his. Chanda grabbed Dylas's arm, and Sharmila put her other hand on my arm. We teleported first to the base of the rock, where Baldur sat in the precise spot where I had told him to stay. When he saw his mistress, he wriggled and writhed and whined and whimpered, remaining obedient to my command despite his eagerness to run to Avani. I set her down next to him, and she knelt, burying her face in his shaggy fur as he squirmed like a puppy in sheer delight. Once the wolf's raptures had subsided somewhat, we again teleported, this time into the middle of a large patch of green grass in the middle of a village.

I set Avani down on the soft grass and looked around. The village was set on the side of a hill, with lush growth all around. Trees, vines, small gardens full of fruits and vegetables and gorgeous flowers filled in nearly all the spaces between and around the houses. The houses themselves were mostly painted brilliant colors, like jewels set into a richly-embroidered garden tapestry.

Along one side of the expanse of lawn was a large, sprawling house with a huge veranda all around it. Unlike most of the houses, the wood was either stained or painted white. The tiled roof was a deep bronze color, and the steps and veranda were made of dark red terracotta tiles. Flowering vines climbed along one side of the house, a pomegranate shrub poked its branches under overhanging roof, and exuberant hibiscus plants lined the walkway and steps.

It was towards this house that Sharmila and Rishi began to guide us, when suddenly there was a shout and someone called Avani's name. Turning, we saw a scowling white-haired woman approaching, and I felt Avani stiffen as she looked at her. She let go of my arm and straightened, a cold look in her eyes, and she said, "Kokila."

"You! You dare to show your face here, and in that... that disgraceful condition?" the woman screeched, gesturing at my wife's belly. "You know our laws!" Turning to Rishi, she said, "She must be banished—she has broken the taboo and gotten herself with a child fathered by one who is not her husband!"

I started to step forward, by Chanda held me back this time, whispering harshly, "No. Keep out of it. You don't know our ways. Let them handle her." I was skeptical, and I could see that Dylas shared my misgivings, but the two of us kept quiet and waited to see what happened.

Rishi turned towards the elderly woman, his face serene as usual, and replied, "No, Kokila. She has had amnesia. She forgot everything that had occurred—her entire life—up to that point. Laws broken in ignorance of our customs may be forgiven, at the Ra'mara's discretion."

She spat on the grass at Avani's feet. "And of course you'd never banish your own sister, would you?" she said, spitefully, before turning again to Avani. "And what of my son? Where is he? He's your husband, you little harlot, not this... this...." She looked me up and down, as if at a loss to find a suitably derogatory term for me.

Avani stepped forward, confronting the old woman. "Bhima is dead, Kokila. I killed him with my own hands, to protect myself and my unborn children from him."

Kokila stared at her with horrified eyes. She put her hands over her mouth, shaking her head in denial as she backed a few steps away. "No.... No, you lie! You—you killed him in cold blood! I know you did! Bhima was too mighty to be defeated by the likes of you without trickery and deceit!" She pointed a shaking finger at her, accusingly, and her eyes went from shock to fury. "I demand a blood price from you! A blood price! For my son, whom you murdered!"

Avani's face contorted with rage in the face of her former mother-in-law's accusations. She stepped up closer to the old woman, whose anger suddenly turned to fear as she looked into the younger woman's eyes. "You want a blood price, do you, Kokila? Fine. Our customs require a payment of a blood price, either monetary or in like kind—an eye for an eye, a leg for a leg, blood for blood. Here, then, is the blood price for your misbegotten son!" With that, she reached down beneath her skirt, and when she withdrew her hand, I saw her fingers covered in a mixture of blood and... and more. She smeared a streak of this mixture on the horrified woman's face, down her cheek and neck and to the neckline of her dress. "My blood, spilled by your son and mixed with his foul seed when he raped me atop the Rock of the Mahapura! Take it—take it as your due!"

The old woman gasped, shocked and disbelieving. "No... you lie! Bhima was perfect, exactly like his father before him!"

Avani narrowed her eyes as she glared at her. "Bhima's father died before my birth, Kokila, but from what I've heard, he was nothing like his son. Neither in disposition, nor in appear—" She stopped short and stared at the woman, her mouth agape. After a moment, she said, "You—you broke our taboo! Your husband wasn't Bhima's father, was he? Some other man was! Did Bhima know, or merely suspect?"

"No! He knew nothing!" Kokila clamped her hand over her mouth and turned grey as she realized her unintentional confession.

"Oh, I think he did, Kokila," Avani said, icily. "Now I understand why he insisted that I stay away from Sundara, and his comments about 'raising the cuckoo's chick'. He was speaking of his own father—and of you!"

Kokila straightened up, and looked at Rishi. "And what are you going to do about it? Banish me? A feeble, old woman? And with no evidence?"

Rishi replied, his face still serene, though his voice had a new, harsh tone to it. "No, Kokila, I do not intend to banish you. Not because you don't deserve it, in accordance with our laws, nor because of your age. I will not banish you, because it's time to put an end to that and many other customs. Such thinking has no place among our people—not anymore. Those old, hidebound attitudes are what caused my sister to live in such agony for so long—and who knows how many others have suffered for them, too. Now that I am the Ra'mara, I intend to do what my father could not—or would not—do: bring us out of hiding and rejoin the world around us."

Then he turned his back on her, leaving her speechless on the lawn as he led us into his house. As he reached the first step, he turned back towards her, and said, "By the way, I consider that to have been more than adequate payment for your son's life—especially since no payment was due to you in the first place. Bhima's property belongs to Avani now, so you will not be permitted to return to his house tonight. You may come and remove any of your possessions under my sister's oversight at her earliest convenience. Until then, it will be locked and guarded to prevent... mishaps, shall we say?"

Then we mounted the steps and entered the warm glow of his home, shutting the door firmly on the darkness outside.