Nala was happy. Murder was exactly what she had in mind.

‘What I propose to teach you is murder, plain and simple, the fine art of assassination, with the accompanying skills of maiming, blinding, poisoning, you get the gist eh? You won’t know what to do if ten soldiers headed towards you on a battlefield, but you will know how to cause impotency in a man. You will know how to force locks and break into houses, and bring about a plague in a city. No one will cheer you on. None will sing tales of you. If you are caught, there will be no trial. They will hang you in a cage or toss you to the sharks, depending on where you are caught. Considering you will grow into a woman, they will do other things. Do you understand what I am telling you, Nala?’

Nala nodded. This was the moment she had been waiting for. This sounded like something she could do, and even excel at. It seemed to use more mind, and less body. She was not in this to be a hero anyway. From whatever she had read, heroes would rather die than besmirch their honour. Fuck honour. She wanted to roast Bheem on a slow pit and kill his dog, if he had one. Adrenaline surged through her arteries like horses at a chariot race, but her tongue seemed paralyzed. Ultimately, she managed to mutter three coherent words, ‘I am ready,’ and then added, ‘Master.’

Parshuram looked at her for a long time. ‘We will see. I have learnt a few lessons in my torturous career as a teacher, and I have little patience for the dullard, in mind or body. You must already know I teach no Ksharja. I hate those cursed sword-wielding wretches. You are a Valka, forestfolk. Warriors yes, but not strictly Ksharjas. So, you pass. But there is something else you must do first. You will have to take a Vachan.’

IV

The Vachan had been simple enough though it took till noon to ordain: She would never disobey Parshuram. That was it. Crisp and concise. Not that Nala had any thought of disobeying the Bane of the Ksharjas. She suspected there was some other reason he wished her to take the Vachan.

The ritual left Nala hardened; a sudden vigour flowed through her nadis when Parshuram invoked the first mantras. By the next hour, the mantras had invigorated her and sharpened her senses. She felt cleaner for some reason. She had read enough about Vachans at Meru to know the physiology. The ritualistic Vachan had increased the muscle mass of her nadis, strengthening and stretching them, as in yoga. The Vachan helped her somehow ascend a level. She knew she needed it to face the trials to come.