I took a good look around me as we entered Rishi’s and Sharmila’s house, which was substantially larger than even the houses in Selphia. Sharmila smiled at my curiosity, and explained. “This is the house of the Ra’mara, the Prince, the Son of the King that was and is no more. As the leader of the tribe, he is expected to provide hospitality to those in need—the rare stranger or visitor, but also any who are displaced and have nowhere to go. This often happens during the worst monsoons, when many homes are damaged or even destroyed. Furthermore, the house of the Ra’mara also serves as a meeting hall and the one and the seat of our government. Any and all who are in need of arbitration, justice, or succor come here to receive it. This is why the Ra’mara’s house is so capacious.”

“So this, then, is the house where Avani and Rishi grew up?” I asked as we walked down a long hall, passing several doors on either side.

“Yes. In fact, Avani’s room remains much the same as when she left it on the morning of her marriage. I would put you there tonight, but the bed is too small for two.”

“Might I see it?” I asked, my ears perking up. I felt a keen desire to have a look into her youth, as it were.

She smiled, and replied, “I’m sure that Avani will show you around later.” Then turning to address the group as a whole, she said, “I’m certain you all must be very hungry after the day’s efforts. I will leave you in our private sitting room and see to a meal.” She bowed her head to us, then started to leave, but Avani grabbed her arm.

“Please, Sharmila, before anything else, I want to bathe. I want to wash… all… that away.” She shivered a little, as she looked at her brother’s wife beseechingly.

“Oh, my dear, of course you do. I apologize for not thinking of that immediately. You know where to go—you’ll find the water hot and ready,” Sharmila said, looking distressed.

Avani glanced down at her clothing—torn and stained—and sighed softly to herself. I looked at Sharmila and asked, “Is there someone that could transport me to Selphia and back again? I should check in with Arthur and let everyone know that Avani has been found and is doing as well as may be expected, and I think that a clean change of clothing would not be unwelcome, as well. And I need to return Baldur to his pen, too, unless you wish to keep a monstrous wolf in your home.”

Sharmila considered for a minute. “You see, the difficulty is that we’ve already done so much teleporting, and it’s very draining to travel that way. I highly doubt that either Chanda or I could handle it, and Avani certainly cannot. Rishi could do it, as he has a fairly high capacity for spellcasting, but….”

“But you worry for him, because of his blindness?” I finished for her as she hesitated. She nodded, glancing quickly at her spouse. “If he is willing to take me, I will look after him. I may not look it,” I added drily, “but in my time and among my people, I, too, was a Dragon Priest to Ventuswill.” She looked startled, and I grinned. “So we may have more in common than you thought.”

She nodded slowly, and said with a rueful smile, “If Rishi is willing to go, I will trust you to take care of him. The decision, of course, is and always has been his. But I’ve been looking after him for so long now, it’s sometimes difficult to leave him to the care of others.”

“I will gladly take Leon there and back again,” Rishi said, smiling. “I am not entirely helpless, my beloved, despite my handicap.”

“Then let’s go now, while Avani bathes, so that she may have fresh clothing to put on afterward.” I held her for a moment, kissing her and whispering to her that I would hurry as quickly as I could and to just relax in the bath until I returned. Then, as I called Baldur to me, Rishi reached out and carefully caressed his twin’s hair before placing his hand on my shoulder and chanting the teleportation spell.

A moment later, we appeared in our bedchamber in Selphia. I hastily led him out the back door, stopping on the way to return Baldur back to his stable, and we headed over to see Arthur. As usual, he was working, despite the lateness of the hour. I gave him a very brief summary of the afternoon’s events and assured him that Avani was fine, then I left Rishi there to talk with Arthur while I returned home. I packed clean clothing for both of us, as well as pyjamas and a few sundry items I thought Avani would want or like to have. On the way back to Arthur’s office, I stopped at Dylas’s room and packed a few things for him, as well, shoving them into a bag I found next to his desk. I hurried as quickly as I could, wishing to return to Avani as soon as possible. As I bounded down the stairs leading into Arthur’s offices, he and Rishi both stood, recognizing my urgency. We said our farewells, and a few moments later we were back in the village green.

Once we rejoined our companions, I tossed Dylas’s bag to him, catching him by surprise, then Sharmila led me through the maze of halls and rooms to the bathing room. Stepping inside, I found Avani more than half asleep, her head resting on her arms as she leaned against the tiled edge of the bathing pool. I dropped the bag I’d packed on a bench nearby, shed my clothing, and showered as quietly as I could before sliding into the lukewarm pool next to her. The gentle rocking motion of the water caused by my entry startled her awake, and she quickly turned to look at me. I thought that her thoughts or dreams must have been troubled—possibly reliving recent or past events—from the relief in her eyes when she saw me by her side.

I sat and soaked alongside her for a while, though admittedly the water was much too cool for my taste—though perfect for her needs. We didn’t talk, though I had a hundred questions in my mind, but simply sat in congenial silence. After a time, we exited the pool and toweled off, dressed in the clean clothes I’d brought, and rejoined the others. A few minutes after we sat down, Sharmila appeared to call us to dine.

Tucking Avani’s hand into my arm, we followed Sharmila and Rishi to the dining room—a large room with a cool, tiled floor covered in thick, patterned rugs. Colorful paper covered the walls between the tall windows hung with saffron-yellow curtains, and in the center of the room was a long, low table surrounded by cushions in all shapes, sizes, and colors. A crimson and dark yellow patterned cloth was spread over the table, reaching the floor on all sides.

Rishi stood at one end of the table with Sharmila to his right, and she called us to come and sit where we pleased as they seated themselves on the cushions. Avani sat between her brother and me, and a few moments later, two girls began to carry in platters and bowls of food. Steaming, fragrant dishes of vegetables in heavily spiced sauces, golden rice mixed with finely chopped vegetables, flat breads, and one dish of some white cubes in a thick, green sauce. It was entirely unlike any food I recognized either from my youth or from recent experience, except perhaps a slight resemblance to the curry dishes I’d tasted at Porcoline’s restaurant or from Avani’s home cooking. However, nothing she cooked was like this, as she had evidently forgotten the food of her homeland in her amnesia.

She looked delighted by the food set before us now, though, and Sharmila smiled at her enthusiasm. “I asked the cooks to prepare all of your old favorites,” she commented, “in celebration of your homecoming. Speaking of which….” And she looked up at the open doorway behind us. Avani and I turned and looked, and a small crowd of men and women, boys and girls were jammed into the doorway, peering in at her in delight. Laughing, Sharmila said, “The servants were all so overjoyed at your return that they just had to come and see you with their own eyes. No, no—please stay seated. They know that you are tired and also that you are well along in pregnancy. They just wanted a look, not to disarrange you in any way.”

Avani blushed as she turned back to the small group, nodding and saying hello to each of them in turn as they peeped over and around each other to get a better view of her before smiling with a pleased reply to her greetings and departing. She looked at me afterwards, still rosy-cheeked, and explained, “Many of them were my father’s servants, and some of them have been here since before Rishi and I were born. The rest were boys and girls I’ve known since their births.”

As we began to help ourselves to portions of the delicious foods, I said, “Is this parte of the caste system you mentioned to Arthur? Is there a servant caste?”

“No,” Rishi said, pausing with his spoon halfway to his mouth. “Most of these had nowhere else to go—displaced for one reason or another. Some because their parents couldn’t afford to raise them, some were orphans, some simply had no other useful skills.”

Avani glanced quickly at Chanda, then at Rishi and Sharmila. “Chanda should have been given a place here by my father, but he was too superstitious. Still, I had thought that once you became Ra’mara….”

Chanda turned bright red and looked down at her lap as Dylas and I both glanced at her, then Rishi said, “I know, my love. But you see, it’s much easier to make friends with a servant than to make a servant of a friend. I know Chanda has not had a happy life in her home, though, and since our father’s death, she has spent most of her time here—not as a servant, but as an honored guest.”

Avani relaxed a little, looking relieved. “I’m so glad of that.” She looked over at her friend, saying, “I feel as though I hadn’t done nearly enough for you. All those years I left you to manage on your own while I was married to… to Bhima, and then of course during my amnesia. Has it been… very bad for you?”

Not meeting her worried gaze, Chanda shrugged. “About the same,” she muttered. “Though at least my father quit trying to sell me off after you intervened.”

“Sell?” I exclaimed, while Dylas stared, looking shocked.

Avani nodded, then placing a warning hand on my arm, she said, “Yes. But that’s a story for another time, I think.”

Then she turned back to her brother with a curious look. “By the way, my love, what is this about my having two properties here? How is that? I only know of Bhima’s property.”

Rishi sighed and set his spoon down, reaching for the tall, slender glass of sweetened hot tea next to his plate. After a long sip, he looked towards Avani and replied. “I fear you will not like what I have to say, but I will tell you nevertheless.

“As you know, you inherit all of Bhima’s property now that he is deceased. The fact that you killed him has no bearing on the matter, as you killed him in defense of your own life and that of your unborn children—thus absolving you of any responsibility for his death; his death lies on his head and his head alone. If I recall, his property consists of his house and the land on which it is situated, and also two or three fine fields scattered throughout the mountains. Not to mention the animals, the furnishings, and so on. I sent two of my strongest guards to keep watch over the house, though of course the fields remain unguarded.

“However, you already were the legal owner of another house, long before Bhima’s death. After Sundara’s death was reported, it was brought to our father’s attention by the Crone at that time that Sundara had left a will.”

Avani exclaimed, “A will?” Then sensing my confusion at her reaction, she turned to explain to me and to Dylas, “Wills among our people are permitted but virtually unheard-of. We have long-standing customs dictating the order of inheritance, and normally we just abide by those. I don’t think I can recall a will being discovered after someone’s death… well, ever.”

Rishi nodded agreement, then continued. “Yes, Sundara made a will. He had explained to the Crone that as he was an only child and his parents already had a satisfactory home in which to live out their days, he wished to leave his home to… to you.”

Avani gasped, shocked, and half-rose, saying, “What? Are you sure about this? And why… why wasn’t I told any of this until now?”

Gesturing her to be seated, Rishi went on. “Please let me finish, my love. He wished to leave you his home so that you would have a place of refuge from your husband, after his death as during his life. He loved you more than any of us realized, I think, except you. The Crone seemed to think that he felt a crisis was rapidly approaching—one that he feared he would not survive. And so he wanted to be certain that you were provided for, at least as best as he was able. So he left it all to you—the house, the land, all the furnishings… everything he had.

“However, our father feared that if you had a place to run to, a place to escape your husband, that it would only take that much longer for you to become reconciled to your ‘duty,’ as he called it. So he forbade the seers to breathe so much as a word of your inheritance to anyone, and kept you in the dark. I knew of it only because I happened to be studying quietly in a corner of the room, and Father had forgotten I was there until it was too late. Then he likewise forbade me to tell you, saying that if I did, you would surely suffer in the long term. I wasn’t sure that I believed that, but he was convincing enough that I feared to take the risk. I’m sorry, my love, for not telling you sooner, though I don’t know if the knowledge would have done you more harm or good.”

He sighed, leaning his cheek into his hand as he closed his eyes. Avani sat in silence for some minutes, neither eating nor drinking as she absorbed this newest development, and the rest of us likewise abstained as we watched her and waited. Finally she turned to her brother and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “My love, I don’t know if you did me harm or good. But unlike our father, you acted out of love and concern for my well-being. So if you did me harm, I forgive you gladly, and if you did me good, I thank you joyfully.”

Rishi smiled then, leaning forward to touch his forehead to hers, the tip of his nose to hers, as they smiled into each others faces—so dissimilar, yet so alike.

Later that night, after the meal was over, and fascinating stories of tribal legends and lore had been told over cups of hot tea and dishes of tiny pastries and other sweets, I slipped into bed alongside Avani. The bed was large and covered with a colorfully embroidered spread, and very comfortable. The whole room was quite colorful, like the rest of the house. Brilliant pink and green paper, embellished with designs of gold, covered the walls, and several portraits of proud men and beautiful women were hung on the wall opposite the windows. The furniture was all of some smooth, hard, black wood, painted with gilt designs. A vase of brilliant pink hibiscus rested on Avani’s night table, a book I had requested to borrow sat on mine, and massive beeswax candles had been placed on huge brass candlesticks on both tables, ready for us to light.

On our way to our room, Avani had stopped by her old room. Stepping in, I glanced around with avid curiosity at the spacious room, still full of the charm and grace of its former girlish occupant. The colors were bright, but more pastel than jewel-toned. Lavenders, pale greens, cyan, pink, and buttery yellow predominated, and the trim around the doors and the tall casement window opening to a small balcony were all painted with vines full of colorful flowers and birds and butterflies—all painted by Avani herself, she told me, mostly when she was confined to her room in punishment for some misbehavior or act of defiance, she added with a slight smile, and I grinned at the thought of her youthful misdemeanors until the remembrance of her later griefs sobered me.

Her bed was, as Sharmila had said, too narrow for two, but it was a very pretty, feminine bed, placed next to the east-facing window through which she could have watched the sun rise. Her furniture was painted sky-blue and decorated with pink and yellow flowers, and she had a pair of large bookcases filled with books next to a spacious desk in one corner of the room. Crossing over to examine her youthful reading material, I was surprised by the selection. There were, naturally, many childish storybooks, just as one would expect in a child’s room. But there were also many books and scrolls of history, magic, legends, and myths; of biographies, horticulture, geography, and geology; of medicine, alchemy, philosophy, and astronomy. Clearly, even as a child, my wife had possessed an insatiable curiosity, and I felt both pleased and proud with the good fortune that had brought us together.

Chanda had been staying in one of the smaller guest rooms, and since Sharmila had decided to put Dylas into another of the smaller rooms nearby, she led Dylas there on her way to her own bed. Sharmila, meanwhile, had simply told Avani which room to take, and I was grateful to discover that it was far enough removed from the others to secure a little privacy.

**************

I lit my candle and rolled over to look at Avani, who lay facing me, though her eyes were closed. I lay watching her for a few moments, thinking how close I had come to losing her—closer than ever, so far. She looked so frail in her debilitation, her skin pale, dark circles beneath her eyes, the thin blue lines of her veins standing out against the paleness of her eyelids and wrists and neck. The gauntness that had come upon her during her mourning for Venti had partly returned under the strain of the past few days combined with the rapidly increasing demands of the twins she carried. The bones of her collarbone and shoulders jutted out too sharply, and I could see the point of her hip beneath the coverlet. Even her wedding ring hung loose on her finger, I noted with concern, and I determined that whatever business she may have to deal with here in her home village, it would have to wait. Tomorrow I would insist she rest and heal and eat, damn it, if I had to feed her every morsel myself.

“My Lady?” I whispered, uncertain if she slept. But her eyes opened, and though they were a little sunken, and she was too tired to open them more than halfway, still I could see them shining with the inner radiance that was Avani.

“Yes, Leo? What is it?” she replied in a low voice.

Taking a deep breath, I asked one of the questions foremost on my mind. "Love, when you… when you left me… when you seemed to… to die… what happened? I was so sure I had lost you. It was unbearable. And then... oh, my love, you can't imagine my relief and joy when your heart began to beat again."

She snuggled up to me then, resting her cheek on my chest, slipping one hand over my stomach and one leg across mine. Closing her eyes in thought, she slowly replied. “I… I don’t remember as much of it now. It was like waking from a dream, you know—at first you remember all of it, or at least you think you do. But then a minute later half of it’s gone, and by evening you can only remember a few fragments of it, if anything at all.

“I remember… I remember Bhima was there, trying again to capture me. It was like a horrible nightmare. Oh, and it was all so… grey there. No colors anywhere. Except for his eyes—his glowing green eyes.” She shivered, then continued. “I can’t remember why… he was reaching out for me and I couldn’t move…. Oh! That’s right, it was the children. Our children—the twins. They were with me, and they were clinging to me in terror because of him. That’s why I couldn’t move. And Sano and Uno were there—I could see their red and blue eyes, I remember now—the only other colors, I think. But they were too far away to help me. Then… then… what was it? Something….” She hesitated, chewing on her lip and strumming her fingertips on my side as she concentrated. “White. Something… something white. A bird. An… an egret? No—a peacock, that’s right. A white peacock. It just appeared out of nowhere, and it attacked Bhima, then it picked him up—I don’t know how—and carried him away. It dropped him next to the foxes and flew away, and…” She made a slight retching sound, and I glanced at her quickly, and was startled by her sudden sickly pallor. “The… the foxes,” she said faintly, a moment later. “They… they ate him. Ate Bhima’s spirit, I mean.”

“They what?” I exclaimed, raising myself up on my elbow to look at her in surprise. Then I recalled their peculiar expressions after they delivered their final message.

“They ate his… his soul. I-I guess that’s what they meant, about Ventu denying my request….” She shuddered and shook her head as if to clear it, then lay lost in thought for a few moments. “I… I do remember one other thing now….”

“What is that, My Lady?” I asked, not without some trepidation, after her last revelation.

“It… it was before Bhima found me. I was crying, and our daughter was trying to comfort me. She kept saying that Daddy would come soon to help us.”

I felt like I’d been stabbed in the heart. I froze for a moment, then fell back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling in silence, thinking how once again I had let her down. I’d sworn to protect her—yet when had I really ever succeeded in that? I was crushed that even before her birth, our daughter had such confidence in me—and that it was entirely misplaced.

After a minute, I lifted her hand to my lips and kissed it. “I’m sorry, My Lady. I let you and our children down. I failed you all—failed to protect you, failed even to come to your rescue.” I felt a hot tear trickle down my cheek, but I couldn’t be bothered to brush it away.

She sat up and reached over, turning my face towards hers to look into my eyes, her expression alarmed. “Leo…,” she said, “my beloved—no, you didn’t fail us. You did come to our rescue—you found us, in spite of all the odds against you. And you pulled me out of that dark place—by bringing your foxes with you, who were able to go where you could not and retrieve what you had lost. If you hadn’t followed me… if you hadn’t found me….” She started to cry, then, and burying her face in my shoulder, she shook with the intensity of her weeping as she sobbed, “Oh, Leo, you have no… no idea what he was capable of, no idea of the things he could do….”

So I did the only thing I could do in that moment—I put my arms around her and held her close against me until she cried herself to sleep, and then I continued to hold her throughout the night as we both slept in the comfort of each other’s warmth.