wait upon you.”
Sitara cast a glance up the dock. Yes. There were guards and servants there, paused to listen to this drama, and she saw faces on the palace terraces. This moment provided plenty of witnesses to see how much Radana loved her queen.
Sitara raised Radana to her feet. She clasped the concubine’s hand, feeling the tiny tremble there. “Radana, your place is here,” she said kindly.
See, I too can put on a good show
. “The king will need your comfort while I am gone.”
“But Great Queen …”
Sitara felt her patience straining. She could not permit anger now. Not before all these witnesses. “We all must serve, Radana, and we do not all get to choose the means of service.” She spoke clearly, slowly. She wanted to be well understood by those who stayed behind. “I thank you for your care,” she added, reaching out to wipe away the tears that fell so artfully from the concubine’s eyes. She rested her hand on the woman’s bowed head in blessing. “Go now. Let me leave while I still remember my dignity.”
“Yes, Great Queen.”
Sitara watched Radana turn sorrowfully and walk reluctantly up the dock, casting many a backward glance to make sure Sitara saw the tears in her eyes. For a moment, Sitara’s heart quailed within her. To give Radana free run of the palace for any length of time could be dangerous.
No
, she told herself firmly.
Kiet is no fool. He knows the extent of her worth as well as I do
.
So Sitara sailed on to the rhythm of the oars and the river, afraid for her home and afraid for herself, but never once turning back. The forests rose thick and green on either side. The dusts did not reach here. The rains never ceased to fall, and all was warm and green, and thick and close with life, wild and strange. It was in the forests the demons and the serpentine
naga
lived. It was to the forests the heroes and hermits went, for adventure or for enlightenment.
It was to the forests that Anidita sent the sorcerers to take them away from the danger of the corruption from their own power.
The monastery was a place of wood and thatch. The walls were made of ancient timbers painted red and carved with the hideous faces of demon fighters to warn away evil. Sitara felt their unsleeping eyes on her as she was helped from the rocking barge. The simple gates stood open wide, and the father abbot waited before them to greet her.
Father Thanom was a short, wiry man. His head was shaved to indicate his holy calling, and simple robes of saffron and burgundy wrapped his thin frame. Except on holy days, the abbot never wore any regalia that marked him as different from any of the other monks in this place. He bowed low before her, and Sitara returned the gesture, holding the pose until she felt his rough, warm hand touch her head in greeting and blessing.
“You are welcome among us, daughter.” His voice was strong and deep. “Come and meditate for a while.”
Sitara let herself be led across the yard toward the temple of the Awakened One, knowing that her people would be respectfully greeted and well looked after. The father abbot walked with her through the shadowed gardens, past the broad pools and drooping trees. There were no flowers here, only rich and varied greenery. The few times she had been here before, Sitara found herself with the strange feeling that the shadows were tended as carefully as the plants. The monks bowed as she passed them, and she nodded to them in return. There were no nuns in this garden. Their convent waited on the other side of the high wall; it was with them that she and her women would be housed this night.
Outwardly, the temple was a simple building; long and low, made of heavy timbers that were painted red, green, and gold. Inside there were mats for prayer, brass receptacles for the incense, and the great image of Anidita, his hands folded and his eyes closed in meditation. Like the rest of this place, this image had been carved from the forest, but it had
Sitara cast a glance up the dock. Yes. There were guards and servants there, paused to listen to this drama, and she saw faces on the palace terraces. This moment provided plenty of witnesses to see how much Radana loved her queen.
Sitara raised Radana to her feet. She clasped the concubine’s hand, feeling the tiny tremble there. “Radana, your place is here,” she said kindly.
See, I too can put on a good show
. “The king will need your comfort while I am gone.”
“But Great Queen …”
Sitara felt her patience straining. She could not permit anger now. Not before all these witnesses. “We all must serve, Radana, and we do not all get to choose the means of service.” She spoke clearly, slowly. She wanted to be well understood by those who stayed behind. “I thank you for your care,” she added, reaching out to wipe away the tears that fell so artfully from the concubine’s eyes. She rested her hand on the woman’s bowed head in blessing. “Go now. Let me leave while I still remember my dignity.”
“Yes, Great Queen.”
Sitara watched Radana turn sorrowfully and walk reluctantly up the dock, casting many a backward glance to make sure Sitara saw the tears in her eyes. For a moment, Sitara’s heart quailed within her. To give Radana free run of the palace for any length of time could be dangerous.
No
, she told herself firmly.
Kiet is no fool. He knows the extent of her worth as well as I do
.
So Sitara sailed on to the rhythm of the oars and the river, afraid for her home and afraid for herself, but never once turning back. The forests rose thick and green on either side. The dusts did not reach here. The rains never ceased to fall, and all was warm and green, and thick and close with life, wild and strange. It was in the forests the demons and the serpentine
naga
lived. It was to the forests the heroes and hermits went, for adventure or for enlightenment.
It was to the forests that Anidita sent the sorcerers to take them away from the danger of the corruption from their own power.
The monastery was a place of wood and thatch. The walls were made of ancient timbers painted red and carved with the hideous faces of demon fighters to warn away evil. Sitara felt their unsleeping eyes on her as she was helped from the rocking barge. The simple gates stood open wide, and the father abbot waited before them to greet her.
Father Thanom was a short, wiry man. His head was shaved to indicate his holy calling, and simple robes of saffron and burgundy wrapped his thin frame. Except on holy days, the abbot never wore any regalia that marked him as different from any of the other monks in this place. He bowed low before her, and Sitara returned the gesture, holding the pose until she felt his rough, warm hand touch her head in greeting and blessing.
“You are welcome among us, daughter.” His voice was strong and deep. “Come and meditate for a while.”
Sitara let herself be led across the yard toward the temple of the Awakened One, knowing that her people would be respectfully greeted and well looked after. The father abbot walked with her through the shadowed gardens, past the broad pools and drooping trees. There were no flowers here, only rich and varied greenery. The few times she had been here before, Sitara found herself with the strange feeling that the shadows were tended as carefully as the plants. The monks bowed as she passed them, and she nodded to them in return. There were no nuns in this garden. Their convent waited on the other side of the high wall; it was with them that she and her women would be housed this night.
Outwardly, the temple was a simple building; long and low, made of heavy timbers that were painted red, green, and gold. Inside there were mats for prayer, brass receptacles for the incense, and the great image of Anidita, his hands folded and his eyes closed in meditation. Like the rest of this place, this image had been carved from the forest, but it had
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