BUSY was the group for most of the day, as they split to explore or do various things. Aiṛth became famous among the realm for her song, even though she thought little of her improvisation. It was not long after waking and taking a morning stroll that the throngs spotted her and dragged her off.
They wished for her to sing the complete version of the song, and she had no problem with doing so, for she liked to sing of the tales. They gave her a veena to accompany her song that they later let her keep, and she sang thereafter for hours on end. The crowds were amazed by not only how she gracefully handled the instrument—as her fingers plucked the strings and glided across them with ease—but also her ability in recitation and memorization that seemed to far surpass their own.
The Gazhigam may have a long memory of things past, but if one were to ask them to memorize a song that spanned thousands of verses, most would shudder at the thought. The skills of such things were lost to them when the priesthood was abandoned and so many could not sing long lays or recite long poems; though it did not seem to bother them, for they treated it much like a dessert that came by every so often.
Iḷēhaḥ had been given her new staff by Sanyhaḥmān and she felt that it was much stronger and sturdier than her last. But she still needed a Dvı̄sahlvah, of which Sanyhaḥmān said, “It’s only the Autirsāh I know that can make such things, but now that we know that more exist in the possession of the King Rṭyāshphaḥ, there should at the very least be more about Ārhmanhaḥ—perhaps sealed in some secret spaces. We need only keep our eyes open, for I’m sure the Gods will guide us to them.”
She sighed. “If only my forefathers could have related where they were, much pain could be avoided.”
“Enough with the sadness; to drinks we go!” he said, patting her on the shoulder.
She lightened her mood, and the two spent time at the various Triahkṣhels drinking away.
Feyūnhaḥ, unable to rest, joined them on their drinking spree later in the day. Her afflictions had not wholly been cured. While the bruises, cuts, and burns were healed, her muscles still ached and her body felt stiff. But unlike the day before, she did not have to bear the pain, for the soothing liquor dulled her senses just enough for her to give little care.
All the while, the quivering in the maiden’s arm would not stop.
Vrihkhaḥ rested in a cool cave that the Giant Snake had brought him to, while Tūmbṃār explored with Nakthaḥm. The heat became more bearable as the day went on. They did not notice it the day before, but when the King released his energy from his meditations, the bell atop his palace would ring and resound, and it would do so every three hours. When it did, the area would cool, and the haze of the magma would disperse for a time and freshen the air. The group would always feel a tingling sensation as their skin was prickled by the change in temperature. A wonderful feeling it was to them.
Out in the streets, the boy and demon perused many of the stalls looking for things of interest. Many gems and ore of various quality were mined in the caverns of the abyss, but hardly any items fashioned of them could be seen for sale. It seemed the residents had little love for such things instead taking to buying cleansers and adorned pots and other home accessories. They lived rather simple lives.
One thing that caught their attention was the vast quantities of food that they stocked with a greater diversity than could be seen in Trdsyḷūr. Most were dropped off from caravans, pulled by rather large but unusual horses whose bodies were scaled like snakes and whose eyes bore an elliptical pupil. They all would come in from the north of the town, descending through the multitude of stone tubes that hung from the ceiling.
Tūmbṃār recalled seeing horses of their likeness through the streets of Trdsyḷūr pulling caravans of hooded individuals, but he had given it little mind after the incident with the beggar.
Nakthaḥm, seeing a hint of sadness, broke the silence. “These horses are called Aurvhaḥhō, for they are Steeds of the Celestials that were given to the Gazhigam upon their descent from the Heavens. You must have heard of the horses with many wings and heads, but I do not know if any are left in Ārhmanhaḥ. They too are also Aurvhaḥhō, and lucky we would be to find one in the wild.”
Tūmbṃār found this interesting, but he still could not take his mind off his worries.
“You are surprisingly dull today. What ails your mind? Though I may be in chains to you, I will listen, as a friend should.”
“I still feel really sorry for the beggar,” Tūmbṃār said with a sigh, “and to you, for having worried you and the others.”
Nakthaḥm laughed. “You need not worry about me! And you have very well already talked about this to us, so put it behind you. Though I will not think my action of striking the King to be wrong. Were he to have had his way, he would have struck down not only the priestess but all of us. There was no choice but to fight. But you should be more vigilant of your body—keep mind to use Earth to encase yourself so you do not suffer such strikes in the future.”
Tūmbṃār nodded to that.
“Yet as for the beggar, I could understand why it is you would feel pity for him, but understand that that is the choice he has made.”
“What do you mean? It didn’t seem to me he had a choice at all, what with being beaten senselessly by all around him.”
“‘The man who self-deprecates is no better than the man who would flaunt’, is often what my master would say to me. Know that no matter what you may have seen from him and what he may have told you, that those whose minds are completely fixated on their suffering are not unlike those who suffer in the Hells. Even those in the Highest Heaven can become mired in this and fall prey to such delusions.”
“You had a master?” said Tūmbṃār, suddenly interested. “Does that mean a Gruvhō? But wait, while he suffered, he did not seem to think much on it. He seemed rather happy to have suffered. Perhaps it didn’t bother him, or maybe that the suffering didn’t matter? Ah, I can’t make sense of this!”
“Indeed, I had a Gruvhō, and it was he who tempered myself as you see now,” said Nakthaḥm with a smile, “but I cannot claim to know the beggar’s state of mind. Just know that whatever predicament he is in now is of his own accord. If he chooses not to fight against the evil that assails him, then that evil should surely consume him. I had heard a little of your talk with him before, and to me, he does seem like the rather mad fellow. He suggests having seen the same Light we have, yet has committed himself to passivity. That is certainly not a state one adhering to Khāryaḥ should hold.”
Tūmbṃār remained silent for some time, but then took a deep breath and exhaled. He looked at Nakthaḥm and said, “I think I understand better now.”
“Good!” said the demon, delighted. “Now come let us eat! I can smell delicious dishes yonder by the far stalls.”
The smell of cooked meals and myriad spices now wafted stronger, and the pungent aroma caught Tūmbṃār’s attention. All this business of worrying had made him famished, and he wished to eat as much as could be had. Their tour turned into a buffet. The two of them went from stall to stall, gathering as much as they could eat and gorging themselves.
They soon came by the others, and drinks and food of large quantities were passed around. It attracted the attention of the Gazhigam. A throng had developed around their table, and they watched the group endlessly drink and eat like the giants of old. It was not long before Aiṛth had come, and she chided them all for their lack of manners. They simply laughed and had their party for the rest of the day. The Gazhigam participated likewise, and there was ruckus all about the streets.
Among their number and unbeknownst to all, the advisors of the King followed each of them and watched closely. They had come to a resolution and were eager to put their plan to action.
