Avani and Chanda reappeared after perhaps half an hour, their arms around each other’s waists and smiling happily. “We’ve settled our differences, and all’s well,” Avani said, grinning at me. “Now, I’m sorry to run off and leave you, but I must meet with Rishi before the tribe gathers later today. I’ll see you at the midday meal, if not sooner.” Then she gave me a quick kiss, and she was off.

I spent the morning perusing the Ra’mara’s library, which was extensive and full of ancient texts. By lunch time, I felt I had at least a rudimentary grasp of the elder script used by the Ventuani, though perhaps not quite solid enough to read any of the hundreds of books and scrolls on his shelves written in it.

Meanwhile, Dylas had gone with Chanda to teach her to fish. He’d asked her where the good fishing spots in the area were, and when she shrugged and replied she’d never been fishing, he was shocked—perhaps even horrified. So he asked her to take him to a nearby river or stream, saying that he could teach her how to spearfish, just as I’d once taught him. I declined to join them, and as they disappeared into the woods, I could hear him enthusiastically extolling the many virtues of his favorite pastime.

Avani and Rishi arrived a few minutes late to the midday meal. Rishi wore his usual calm expression, yet I could see that beneath his mild expression, his facial muscles were tensed. Avani looked angry—furious, even, her sea green eyes snapping with an emerald fire. She glanced at me as she sat beside me, and her eyes softened momentarily. “It’ll be okay,” she reassured me, placing her hand on mine, then her eyes again glittered coldly as she looked over her shoulder towards Rishi’s study. She said nothing further, though, and conversation during the meal was general—largely centered around Chanda’s fishing lesson. Despite their rocky start, the two of them seemed to be discovering some common ground.

After the meal, Rishi returned alone to his study to prepare for the meeting, and Sharmila hurried to oversee the servants in the kitchen as they prepared tea and other refreshments for the tribe. Dylas and Chanda went to clean their morning’s catch to be cooked for the evening meal, and I took Avani’s hand and proposed a walk. We slowly wandered through the village, hand in hand, and she pointed out places and introduced me to people as we went, telling me relevant anecdotes as we strolled along the dirt road. Finally she stopped at the edge of the forest, and stood looking down the path where it vanished into the green depths for a long moment before abruptly turning and walking away. Seeing my curious expression, she gave me a half smile. “That path leads to Sundara’s house.”

I gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze. “And you’re not ready yet?”

“I’m not ready yet,” she agreed, and we returned the way we came.

The tribe had already begun to gather when we reached the green, and it was full of people milling around, forming little groups as they shared the latest news and gossip. At the far end of the green, I could see a small group had clustered around Dylas and Chanda—and from what I could see of Dylas, he was not pleased.

As we drew closer, I could hear a man’s voice declaring angrily, “It’s because they’ve been associating with… with freaks like you and that dog-eared creature, not to mention ol’ redeye here, that everything’s going wrong now! You’ve led them away from us, from everything we believe, everything we stand for, and now the tribe is falling apart… all because of you!”

Dylas opened his mouth to respond, his eyes flashing, but Chanda’s voice rang out. “How dare you? Dylas and Leon are ten times the man you are, Chatur, or ever will be! You should have seen Leon as he fought against Bhima, who was easily the strongest fighter in the tribe. But he was no match for Leon’s speed and skill and power! And Dylas—Dylas killed a mukara single-handed! He crushed it in his arms, snapping its bones, then he struck it with bolts of lightning, and it died. Who among you is man enough to even face a mukara alone, let alone defeat it?”

There was a little resentful muttering, then another voice grumbled, “Well, that just proves it, doesn’t it? Unnatural magics, unnatural strength, unnatural people! You’re a bad influence on them, on Rishi and Avani—they should have had more sense than to take up with all of you!”

As he spoke, we reached the edge of the group, and with a face like thunder, Avani reached out and grasped the speaker by the shoulder and spun him around. He gasped in shock and his face turned pale when he saw her standing there.

“And you, Gopi, should have more sense than to speak ill of others behind their backs,” she hissed angrily. “These three are dear to my heart, and if you take issue with them, you take issue with me. If you have something to say to me, say it to my face—if you dare, you gutless son of an ill-favored snake-fucker!”

Gopi flushed red with anger, and flung her hand from his shoulder. But as he opened his mouth, I interrupted. “You’d better think twice before you speak, pal,” I drawled, looking him over disdainfully. “Not only did Avani defeat Bhima on her own in unarmed combat—while pregnant with twins, at that—she has also defeated clones of three of the Native dragons, and she once took down a demi-god with aspirations of godhood. Probably even the dust that clings to her feet is more robust than you.”

Before any more could be said, however, Rishi and Sharmila appeared and the small group dispersed, still muttering. This time, as there was no meal being served, the tribe seated themselves in two concentric rings. Rishi sat with Sharmila on one side and Avani on the other, and Chanda and Dylas, without needing to be asked, seated themselves behind his back. I saw that Sharmila carried Avani’s rucksack, and once we were all seated, she wordlessly passed it to her.

Rishi raised his hand, and silence fell over the tribe. “For the first order of business, I will make an announcement. Or rather, I will ask my sister, the Lady Avani, to do so.”

Avani stood, still holding her bag, and looked around at the collected tribe, her eyes flinty. “Last night, an attempt was made on the Ra’mara’s life. Three men, in league with at least one other, entered his room subtly and armed. Sir Leon and I followed them, and put an end to their scheme—at least, for now.”

A good many cries and startled exclamations followed her announcement, and not least among them were demands to know their identities and fates. She held up her hand, and as soon as it was again quiet, she said, “The men were all well-known to us, friends of our family… of our father. Ajit, Harit, and Vidhur all met their ends on the Rock of the Mahapura. I summoned forth a Nagani; these are all that remain of them.” And with that, she drew out the four long daggers from her rucksack and threw them down. They stuck into the earth before her, quivering in silent testimony to her words.

A moment later, a woman asked, speaking just barely loud enough for Avani to hear her, “You… you said there was a fourth. What of him?”

Avani turned to look at the woman, her expression still hard, though I saw a brief flicker of sympathy in her eyes. “Arun lives—barely—for now, Ananda. He is under Sharmila’s care; his fate will be determined later… should he survive that long.” The woman bowed her head and nodded, unable to meet her gaze.

Holding her head high, Avani looked over the gathered Ventuani. “There are others of you, and we know now who you are. A conspiracy has been discovered, one which my former husband, Bhima, and my father, Acanda, were the architects—a conspiracy to divest my brother of his place in the tribal succession, replacing him with Bhima, the son-by-marriage of the Ra’mara, instead.”

It was difficult to assess the full impact of her statement on the tribe, other than that the reaction was one of general consternation, because I myself was astonished by her announcement. This then, I realized, was why her father abandoned her so coldly, why her husband was so insistent that she and she alone must be his wife and provide him with sons. Things were starting to fall into place, and I didn’t like the picture they were forming.

Amid demands for proof of such an appalling scheme, Avani again reached into her rucksack. Pulling out the folio, she held it aloft. “This journal was in my former husband’s study, locked away in a cabinet, the key hidden in a secret place. I suspected its existence, and unearthed it after his death. It is written in his hand, using the old writing, and it chronicles the development and progression of this plan. My disappearance and supposed death threw their plot into disarray, as my father deemed it necessary for Bhima’s children to be mine, so that succession would pass through me and my father’s bloodline as the leaders of the Ventuani would be preserved.

“In this book are written notes of secret meetings, those conspirators involved and what their roles were, and lists of those who were approached but refused—some of whom conveniently disappeared afterward—and those who were considered obstacles, most of whom also died or vanished.”

At this announcement, chaos ensued. I spotted three men and a woman bolting for the forest, and a second woman leaped to her feet and charged straight towards Avani. I leaped to my feet to intervene, but before she could reach us, a globe of dark magic appeared before us and homed in on her. She screamed in terror as it relentlessly bore down on her, following wherever she turned, finally gouging along channel along her arm and across her shoulders before it dissipated.

As we looked on in startled astonishment, a voice from behind us said, “My apologies, Lady Avani, if I’m a trifle late to the party.” Whirling around, I saw Arthur standing behind Dylas, his diamond staff in his hand. At his side stood Forte, who wore a grim expression as she gripped the hilt of her undrawn sword tightly. The prince, however, looked as tranquil as always. It struck me right then that he and Rishi had that in common—the ability to remain not merely calm but serene under nearly all circumstances—and I wondered if that was the mark of a true leader.

Rishi stood, smiling, and said, “People of Ventu, the God of Creation, and of the Divine Wind, this man who stands before you is Arthur D. Lawrence, Thirteenth Prince of the Kingdom of Norad. He has come here to negotiate a treaty with us, one that will allow us to unite with the Kingdom while remaining autonomous. We will have the benefits of the King’s protection, aid in times of need, and access to the goods and services of the Kingdom; in exchange, the Kingdom will benefit from our specialized knowledge and skills. Our people will be able to continue to live as we wish—whether keeping to our old way of life or adopting a new—and to rule ourselves as we have done for millennia, with a few exceptions.” Turning to his sister, I saw his eyes glitter with repressed anger as he said, “Among other things, there will be no more forced marriages among our people.” And then he smiled at her.

Just then, there was a commotion in the surrounding woods, growing increasingly loud as if drawing nearer. A few minutes later, a Selphian soldier stepped out, holding tightly to a loudly protesting man with bound hands. “Sirs,” the soldier said, looking at both Arthur and Rishi, “here is one of the fugitives. We were ready for them when they came running, just as you predicted they would.” Within a few more minutes, all four of the escapees had been gathered together, their hands bound behind their backs to prevent incantations, along with Avani’s would-be attacker, whose injuries had been quietly tended by Sharmila. They stood in the center of the encircling tribe, and Rishi looked towards them, rubbing his chin as he thought. “So there are five of you. It seems to me that we are missing one or two, are we not, my sister?”

Avani looked across the tribe, her eyes narrowed as she scanned the faces there assembled. “Yes, there are two others, the healer’s servant, Bhiru, and Vidhur’s wife, Elakshi. But I do not see either of them here.”

“We will search for them later,” Rishi replied. Then he looked across the green at his subjects, rattled by the afternoon’s disclosures, and he raised his hand to call for quiet. It took a little longer this time, but soon everyone had settled down and looked to him, listening anxiously as he spoke.

“Though his actions cut me to the quick, it is important for us all to remember that my father and several of the others implementing this plot did so out of love for the tribe. They believed I lacked sufficient strength to lead you. But,” he called, holding up his hand to again call for quiet as the crowd again began to murmur, “they either failed to or chose not to recognize that there are other strengths aside from physical prowess. Though some of you may harbor reservations about my course of action, my decision to bring the tribe out of our long seclusion will bring about a new era for our people. The Divine Wind chose to live among the people of Norad for centuries, and she loved them well. Let us now follow her example, as behooves the servants of Ventu.”

Simple though it was, his speech struck a chord with many of the Ventuani, and after a brief moment, they erupted into cheers of concordance. He looked again, thoughtfully, at the men and women in the center of the circle, and once the commotion had died down, he said, “Though I believe none of you five would have hesitated to kill me or my sister, I also believe that, deep down, you are less guilty of treason than of shortsightedness. You have set your faces to the past, and see only what has been. You do not see what is, nor what may be. We cannot live our lives facing backwards, watching the road that lies behind us, never looking at the road that lies ahead. The time has come for you to turn and face the future. Will you walk that path with us, your brothers and sisters, or will you continue to yearn what was lost so long ago, never to be regained?”

Of the five of them, three looked uncertain while two merely glared scornfully. However, none of them responded, so at last Rishi sighed and turned to Avani. “My sister, as the Dragon Knight of the Ventuani, I place these five under your supervision, at least for the present time. What do you wish to be done with them?”

She sat back down and thought for a few minutes, staring at her prisoners with unseeing eyes. Finally she turned to Sharmila. “Rishi was able to do something to block my memories. Is there a way to do something like that, that will instead block rune energy and prevent them from using magic?”

After a moment, Sharmila slowly said, “I believe it could be done. I’m not sure, though, as that is even more specialized than blocking memories. Perhaps the Crone…. Now that I am home, I need to retrieve Pavitra and resume my duties at the shrine. I will speak with the Crone tomorrow. In the meantime, perhaps a circle of nullification?”

Avani nodded. “Thank you, my sister. I will accept your recommendation. Will you cast it for me? As Harit was a widower and lived alone within the village, I believe I will use his house for their confinement. Forte, will you please have your men bring the conspirators along?” Then she and Sharmila rose and departed, and the soldiers followed behind, bringing the prisoners with them.

She returned alone several minutes later, resuming her seat next to me. In a low voice, she explained that Sharmila was first healing the injured woman before casting the nullification spell over the whole house. Afterwards, the Selphian soldiers would stand guard around the house.

Meanwhile, Rishi and Arthur had been conducting what amounted to a question and answer session, and as they spoke, the mood of the tribe appeared to shift from caution, trepidation, and perhaps even some dread, to optimism and enthusiasm. The questions and answers gave way to an impromptu brainstorming session, and the villagers threw out all manner of suggestions—some ridiculous, others more circumspect.

In the midst of the lively palaver, Avani stood, and gesturing me to follow, crept away back into Rishi’s house. She turned to me, looking a little wan. “I need to inspect my houses and their furnishings and decide what I’m going to do with them. Will you… will you please come with me?”

“For moral support?” I said, half jokingly.

“You might say that,” she replied in a strange voice. Then she took my arm and cast the teleportation spell, and all went black.