It was a little after sunrise, and the servants in the inn had just started to hustle when Bali announced himself with his fifty immortal men. A servant quickly scurried away to the next room, and in the next minute, the innkeeper came out, dazed and confused.
"We do not have rooms for fifty men," the yaksha announced, wearily, plopping down on the seat behind the counter, and began to count the coins he had in his money box. If there was one creature in the OneRealm that did not tremble before a powerful agni asura, it was a Yaksha.
Uncle Bhringi stepped up to the wooden desk. "An old man we seek, in your inn he lives. Bring them to us. We will wait here, we say," Uncle Bhringi's request was a thinly veiled order. But the yaksha did not budge, did not grant them one look, carrying on with his counting.
"There are many men, old and young, who live under my roof," he said lazily, "I have no notion of which old man you seek. And if you do not seek room, then make way for my customers."
Bali began to walk towards the insolent yaksha, but a voice floated in.
"Prince Bali," it was the familiar voice of the sage. Bali turned to find him standing on the other side of the hall, with the faint shadow of an amused smile behind the thick, silvery curtain of his beard. "Have you come here to fare us well? Or did you come bearing a message from your father?" There was a bite to his words. Bali had trained for years with Sage Parasu and was used to his wry humor.
"Neither. I only came to seek a place in your entourage," Bali spoke frankly, with no wish to hide his intention, "I believe this long, grueling journey would be nothing but a useless effort if you do not have the might of the divine force with you."
The sage approached Bali in long-limbed strides and stopped right before him. The human looked like a tall, silver-haired grasshopper with his lanky limbs and the slight stoop of his back.
"Is that a son I hear disobeying his father?" Sage Parasu's grey eyes regarded Bali steadfastly.
"It is the prince of this realm who must answer a call for help," Bali replied with practiced ease. By now, Bali had learned the words that the people of this realm wanted to hear from their dutiful prince.
The sage chuckled and nodded.
Once the sage and his companions broke their fast and readied their horses, the party set forth, trotting out of the open city gates and down the eastern road. Bali had learned from his tutors the OneRealm was created very much in the image of the earth, a land that his ancestor, Lord Puru, treasured. And the further away they rode from the divine capital of Amravati, the more it was plain to the eyes.
The majestic buildings of the city faded away into bright golden paddy fields that flanked the wide eastern road. The tall magical trees of the city that grew red and green gemstones turned more worldly, plain old fig trees that bore leaves and fruits. The floral scent in the air melted into the smell of grass and dirt and the music in the air gave way to the twitter of the birds. Bali surmised that it would be a long journey, but one that would fulfill his greatest ambition.
"Where he is going to, does the old man know?" Uncle Bhringi murmured from the side, sitting astride his dapple-gray horse.
Bali glanced at the sage, who was riding at the very front of the convoy. "He must. He is riding like a man on a mission." Bali's sable brown eyes flicked over to the two companions Parasu brought with him. Bali had not exchanged pleasantries with them as he did not see the need.
The little, skinny one was barely a grown man, more like a human boy who did not show any spiritual power so far. He was far less a threat than the other one, in a black robe, the one they called a tantric. That one had bold, defiant eyes and a lazy smile lurking about his mouth. Bali had a few run-ins with the likes of them, time to time, and knew they could be sneaky. But, one swift blow of his sword and no amount of tantra could protect them from Bali.
The further they walked eastwards from the city, the narrower that dirt path became with the fields closing in. The band of the bookseekers forded a swift moving stream and entered the next town, a town entirely made of humans. The sun was high in the sky, and the men were getting testy from not having some refreshment since they set out that dawn.
"We must make a short stop here," Bali declared in his deep, commanding voice. The rest agreed readily.
The townspeople welcomed the royal party with eyes full of awe and smiles full of admiration. Children sprinted innocently beside the mounted heroes they had only heard of in stories. The women folk whispered eagerly into each other's ears, and the young maidens could not help throwing curious, admiring glances at the liveried men.
One fair maiden caught Bali's eyes, and he wished he could stay in the town longer than a few hours. The royal party stopped before a decent-looking inn. The food that humans cooked was not the most divine or savory, but it was honest and sincere.
The innkeeper fell over his feet to welcome the eminent guests into his establishment. It was a decent two-storied inn, quite luxurious for a town that size. The large dining hall was already rich with the smell of meat and spices from the kitchen.
The owner seated them at two long tables that accommodated all fifty four of them, and soon plates upon plates of piping hot food were laid out in front of them that looked and smelled no less than the food from the palace kitchen. Excited voices of other customers buzzed around the royal party like a beehive.
"Lads, eat well, we must," Uncle Bhringi instructed, "next town is far, twelve hours away." He poured water from a pitcher before passing it along to the next man.
Sitting across Bali, Sage Parasu mouthed a few silent chants before he dug into the steaming rice mixed with lentil soup and wilted spinach. Beside him, his pupil stirred his food quietly with his nimble fingers and picked up a small morsel to his mouth. The tantric remained quiet, idly eyeing every god and demon of Bali's entourage. Their eyes clashed, and the sorcerer flashed the asura a vain smile before looking away.
"Rice and fish stew? I thought the tantrics consumed ashes for food and human blood for drinks," Narsingh bellowed from the other end of the table, which brought guffaws from the others around. He was a lion demon from the north, brash and prideful, who carried a personal grudge against tantrics. Bali never asked the reason why. Bali never asked much of his men so long as they pledged their loyalty to him.
The black clad tantric raised his thin right brow. "You thought right, and on occasion, we consume asura blood too, particularly of the ones that run off their mouths without much use of their minds," he replied with a cocky smile.
Narsingh face darkened. He slammed his fist on the table, making every bowl and plate jump. "If you have a death wish, bring it outside. I do not wish to scare the people in here with what I will do to you."
"Narsingh!" Bali warned, keeping his voice low, "Do not make a spectacle here. Remember, we are guests."
Narsingh flicked his blazing eyes at Bali. He wiped off the drops of madeira from his golden, bushy, beard, stood up, and left the dining hall fuming. Bali turned to Uncle Bhringi, who nodded in approval. The tantric looked around with defiance but the rest of the men refused to take his challenge after Bali's warning.
"Our journey will take weeks, may be months," Sage Parasu reminded, looking at no one in particular, "it will be a test of will and words, patience and restrain. Remember it is the book that we seek, not squabbles."
"The man who needed to hear this has unfortunately left this table," the tantric said, not wasting a second.
"I apologize to you," Bali's patience was quickly leaving him, "but I must remind asuras carry ten times the spiritual tantric power that a tantric guild forsaken could hope to wield."
The tantric sent a grim look his way, something that Bali particularly enjoyed on his enemies.
"May I indulge you in some madeira?" The innkeeper's cheerful voice cut into the tense air of the table. The man appeared with ten glass pitchers of the amber-colored spirit and enough glasses for the men there. The madeira began to flow, and soon raucous laughters started to run up and down the table.