‘Isn’t it the day of the week when Lady Anandmayi bathes in milk and rose petals?’ asked Parvateshwar.

‘Yes, My Lord. Warm water on all days of the week except the day of the Sun, when she bathes in milk and rose petals.’

Parvateshwar smiled. ‘So, is it ready?’

Rati smiled indulgently. She had served Parvateshwar her entire life, but had never seen her master smile as much as he had in the last few days, since he had returned with the new mistress. ‘It’ll be ready any moment now, My Lord.’

‘Be sure to inform the lady as soon as it’s ready.’

‘Yes, My Lord.’

Parvateshwar turned and ran up the remaining two flights of stairs, before reaching his private chamber on top. He found Anandmayi relaxing in the balcony on a comfortable chair, as she observed the goings-on in the street below. A cloth canopy screened out the evening sun. She turned around as she heard Parvateshwar rush in.

‘What’s the hurry?’ asked a smiling Anandmayi.

Parvateshwar stopped, smiling broadly. ‘I just wanted to know how you’re doing.’

Anandmayi smiled and beckoned Parvateshwar. The Meluhan general walked over and sat down beside her on the armrest. Anandmayi rested her head on his arm as she continued to study the street below. The markets were still open, but unlike the loud and garrulous Chandravanshis, the citizens of Devagiri were achingly polite. The road, the houses, the people, everything reflected the prized Suryavanshi values of sobriety, dignity and uniformity.

‘What do you think of our capital?’ asked Parvateshwar. ‘Isn’t it astonishingly well-planned and orderly?’

Anandmayi looked at Parvateshwar with an indulgent smile playing on her lips. ‘It’s heartbreakingly lacklustre and colourless.’

Parvateshwar laughed. ‘You’re more than enough to add colour to this city!’

Anandmayi placed her hand on Parvateshwar’s as she remarked, ‘So, this is the land where I will die...’

Parvateshwar turned his hand around and held hers, in reply.

‘Any news?’ asked Anandmayi. ‘Has the Lord entered the territory of Meluha?’

‘No reports as yet,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘But what is truly worrying is the absence of bird couriers from Ayodhya.’

Anandmayi’s visage transformed as she straightened up with concern. ‘Has Ayodhya been conquered?’

‘I don’t know, darling. But I don’t think the Lord has enough men to conquer Ayodhya. The city has seven concentric walls, albeit badly designed. That is formidable defence, even if the soldiers are ill-trained.’

Anandmayi narrowed her eyes in irritation. ‘They are poorly led, Parvateshwar, but the soldiers are brave men. My country’s generals may be idiots, but the commoners will fight hard for their homeland.’

‘This reinforces my argument that the Lord Neelkanth couldn’t have conquered Ayodhya with just the one hundred and fifty thousand soldiers of Branga and Vaishali.’

‘So what do you think has happened?’

‘Clearly, Meluhan interests are not being served in Ayodhya. One possibility is that your father, King Dilipa, has aligned with the Neelkanth.’