The attending nurse dropped the clay amphora she was carrying when she saw the rishika sitting up on the bed. She screamed in horror and surprise at the sight.
There were many rumours circulating among the people of the royal palace about the infamous new sorceress. The latest one was coming from a trusted source. One of the maid swore upon her mother's grave that Samira of Honta was an evil witch who could raise the dead.
[She made a head talk! A head! Without a body! And her eyes, oh her eyes and face, it was so scary. Her eyes were white and her face as blue as a corpse! And she said she would kill me. Dear Gods, I am going back to my village, I tell you. I can't stay here. She'll kill me!]
The nurse wasn't one to believe a silly maid's story without taking a grain of salt. But she witnessed it herself when Samira of Honta was taken into the Healing Halls. It was as if she's possessed. It took five men to tie her down and three healers to perform rituals on her. Nothing worked and she lashed out the whole day until suddenly she calmed down herself the next day. Afterwards she was sleeping the whole time without showing signs of waking.
However, the officials didn't speak bad things about her. The Great Maharishi Kaimana himself told the attendants of the Healing Halls to treat Samira with the utmost respect. Even Crown Prince Ekram came in person too, staying watch at her bedside with the other officials for a few hours. Discussing serious matters in hushed tone.
From the pieces of information the nurse heard, it seemed there was an accident that caused the rishika to be this sick. A ritual gone wrong, something like that. The Queen gave a gag order on this matter but it was too late by the time it's given. People were already speculating about what secret did the rishika uncover.
The most treasonous of all rumour was that the higher ups going to make the rishika summon late King Soma's soul.
Just thinking about the supposed implication was scary. Were they trying to find out if the king had indeed died by accident? And if it wasn't, will there be... war?
All of that scary things and horrible rumours, was it really because of this frail looking young woman? The nurse came back to her senses. No matter what the patient background was, her sense of duty as a healer comes first. The nurse smiled weakly at the bedridden patient.
"I'm sorry, Miss. I was just surprised," she explained while picking up the pieces, tidying them a little.
Samira of Honta was very pale and gaunt. She must've been a lovely girl if not for the bluish veins marring her pretty face. She looked tired and a little lost but she wasn't a scary evil witch like the rumours said about her, thought the nurse. Just an unfortunate sick person.
"How are you feeling, Miss?" asked the nurse by her side. "I will inform the healers soon. Do you want to drink? Anything you need?"
The young woman paused as if to study her for a moment. Samira has lovely brown eyes, the nurse thought. They were big and bright, even when the rest of her body says otherwise. Then Samira turned her head to the bedside table.
"That flower... Who brought it?" her voice was weak and raspy.
"Oh, this? I'm sorry, I'll throw it away. It must have bothered you—"
"No, don't. I... I like it. Leave it there."
In the eyes of the nurse, the vase filled with dried flower looked unsuitable for a recovering patient. She knew not who brought it here, but it was for the patient so she didn't dare to throw it before Samira wakes up.
But to Samira the bouquet held a different meaning.
To a rishika with talent for necromancy like her, any organic things around her might rot or withered if she lost control of herself. It rarely happened so not many would know of it. However, someone appeared to take notice of it. Dried flowers wouldn't be affected by her. The person who brought her this flower took special care regarding her particular quirk.
Was it the person who saved her? The one who shared years of their life for her?
She hadn't slept this peacefully for months ever since the incident with Mantara. She had almost lost her reason and self-destruct, if not for that voice and chakra calling her soul back. And the warm touch, like her father's. She was still daydreaming when the nurse came to her side again.
The attending nurse was busying herself looking after Samira. The rishika obediently let herself being taken care of. She knew soon people will start coming and inquire the findings about the monster. She would need enough energy to deal with them.
Breakfast was watery congee and lightly sweetened soy milk. The healers came to check on her and forced some bitter medicine down her throat. At noon, her first guests were received into the Healing Halls. It was Prince Ekram and Isvar Kaimana.
"The council was in uproar," said Ekram after Samira gave him a satisfying explanation about her condition. They were the only ones left in the Healing Halls. Apparently, all the other patients were moved to another pavilion when she was brought in three days ago.
"My mother gave an immediate gag order. This issue has become bigger than it first appeared to be. We thought it was just a mutated monster, but for it to come from Patala, that would mean we will be dealing with asuras."
Patala was the world where asuras reside. Pureblooded asuras were the eternal enemies of the deva gods. Humankind were no match against them. Unless the devas would be willing to come into the middle realm themselves or if there's any mighty sage left on this earth, then there's no hope for them. Even thousands of Mantara would not be enough if they were really going to war against the asuras.
"That is if they were really going after humankind. We don't know the extent of it yet but the monster was only looking for their 'king'," said Isvar Kaimana. "We shouldn't involve ourselves in the war between devas and asuras. But, I am in the opinion that we must prepare for the worst."
"I'm sorry. I could've found out more if I hadn't made that stupid mistake," Samira admitted regretfully.
"What are you on about, girl!" Kaimana shook his head. "You're stubborn, but I admit your performance was satisfactory. What happened was just an accident. An occupational hazard."
"Muni[1], she was unconcious for three days." Ekram frowned.
"Perfectly normal risk. She's a necromancer." The maharishi shrugged heartlessly but Samira nodded.
"There was some special circumstances but it's been dealt with for now," Samira agreed.
She skirted around the issue of having Mantara's soul inside her. Her head would be in the chopping block if people knew she killed the great rishi. Theoretically, a normal backlash for minor rituals like that would only make her bedridden for one day. She had learned her lesson, she'll be careful next time so Mantara wouldn't be able to take advantage of her.
"I'll be fine. Don't you remember how many times I was bedridden while studying under Mantara, Ekram? This is nothing."
"Precisely because of that." The young crown prince was still worried. "It's dangerous."
"Of course it was. But I succeeded this time," added Samira proudly.
"That's the spirit! Good, very good!" Kaimana slapped his knee excitedly. "Because I just have several monster corpses ready for you. New reports were coming in, we need to interrogate more of them. Get well soon, girl, we have work to do!"
"Muni! Don't encourage her—Samira! Stay in bed! Nurse, nurse! Take this old man out, he's disturbing the patient!"
The maharishi was escorted out unwillingly. Although he managed to shove a few strings of lontar to Samira's lap, telling her to not waste any time and catch up with the most recent reports. When the hall was finally quiet again, Ekram sat tiredly by her bedside, looking at her reading the lontars with disapproval.
"You're quite cheerful for someone bedridden," commented Ekram.
"Am I?" Samira said lightly, stealing a little glance at the dried flower by her bedside.
"This isn't from Farhad," Ekram said cautiously when he followed where Samira was looking. "He was immediately called back after your accident. The monster was sighted as far as Hookeun Reservoir, it was only a mountain away from his territory."
"I know."
She hid it well, but hearing it Samira couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. So it was indeed not Farhad who came to save her. But whoever it was, she felt grateful. Samira put down the lontars she was reading and calmly turn to the crown prince.
"Alright, Ekram. Spill it out. I can hear you thinking from here." Samira sighed.
"So you succeed in summoning a dead soul from the underworld. You're sure it's not spirits, right?" Ekram turned serious.
"Yes, it wasn't a spirit this time."
Samira nodded and Ekram's face became hopeful. So hopeful that it pained her to ruin his wish.
"I still couldn't do it too much and it was only for a short time."
"It's still a big improvement in your ability. And if the soul had entered the cycle of rebirth?"
"Then it wouldn't answer my call..." She gulped nervously. They were both thinking on the same direction. She suddenly didn't want to continue this talk.
"Then... My father..."
"Ekram, no." Samira cut his words. She looked at him straight in the eyes. "You can't. You must not think of it."
"And what about you?" Ekram looked hurt. "Don't tell me you never thought about the same thing, Samira."
"Don't you dare."
"Yes, I dare. You are not the only one losing their loved one. You're not the only one wishing if things could be different, thinking if only you could've prevented it."
"It's forbidden for a reason! We can't be sure if the soul will still be pure when it was summoned. What if we fail and the soul become fragmented? Do you wish to see them unable to enter the cycle of rebirth, huh?"
"With enough time, your power will improve, won't it? You'll be able to do it flawlessly. Have faith in yourself, Samira. You're the strongest rishika I've ever known."
"I am not strong enough, Ekram. I've only summoned a mere monster's soul and look where it got—"
"Excuses! You keep giving me excuses!" Ekram roared and banged his fist on the bedside table. The vase fell and broke into pieces, the dried flower scattered on the floor. "I am your crown prince! You are my rishi and you will obey me!!"
Samira clenched her jaw. Ekram was breathing heavily, trying to reign in his outburst. They didn't speak another word for a long time. It was rare for the good natured Ekram to be losing control. Samira was hurt, but she understood his pain. After awhile, he leaned back on his chair and speak in a weak voice.
"I saw his dead body, Samira. I saw my father's body, torn and mangled. I carried him myself because I couldn't bear to let anyone else touch him."
His eyes reddened and his voice carried an anger he used to hide.
"I stood vigil at his side for a whole night. They said it was a boar that killed him. But was it, really? Could a boar snapped all his limbs like that? I kept thinking it was such a cruel way to die. My father must be in so much pain at his last moments. And he was all alone. Where were the guards? Where were the other hunters?"
She took his hand, trying to calm him down. He didn't resist. "Ekram—"
"You were there, Samira. You, Farhad, and I. We were there at the hunt. We were laughing, having fun the whole day. Then at sundown I was carrying my father's dead body."
Samira couldn't bear to look at his broken face. She pulled him into a hug. Ekram was clawing at her back, his body shivering with sorrow and anger. He was a kind hearted young man. He had hid his grief for the sake of the kingdom. He was her friend and she couldn't bear to see him this hurt. But there was nothing they could do.
"Farhad's my friend and I do love Ishani. But if they—if their family had a hand in my father's death—" Ekram choked.
"They have no reason to want him dead, Ekram. Calm your heart, my friend. I'm sorry... I'm truly sorry..."
"Please, Samira. Please, I beg you. Give me peace. Only you can lighten the burden in my heart. I don't want to see the face of my friend and my wife, and think that they might be the killers of my own father."
Samira shut her eyes tightly. She knew that whatever she does, she could never give him peace. She whispered defeatedly.
"And if... If the truth was something so horrible, what then?"
"Then we will go to war."
--
[1]Muni: holy man.