THE trial then proceeded without further interruption, and the high priest stood before his lord. Prelūshyodhaḥm spoke, “High priest Furutham, you and your accomplices are responsible for the kidnapping of the thirty-three residents including my daughter, are you not?”

Furutham nodded. He hung his head low, intending not to look his lord in the eye. Though regret and remorse held in him, he did not seek to ask for forgiveness, and in silence sought to assent to any punishment his lord would mete. Prelūshyodhaḥm consulted with his advisors and questioned Tūmbṃār and company.

Each kept silent about their quest, only revealing that they were in pursuit of their friend who had ventured into the mountains and had found out about Furutham’s actions by following various leads—though they kept quiet of Hayutsu’s involvement. With Prelūshyodhaḥm having heard of Furutham’s dealings with the Demons and his subsequent use of the captives, it was not long after that he came to a deliberation.

“Furutham, now former high priest! Your accomplices shall stay confined for no less than three years for their actions seeing as they acted on your direction as is part of their duty. But for you, though you have done well by the Gods for your various services to the town and the many rituals conducted toward them, the wrongs committed go far past any good that could have come from your past activities. You have not only sought to murder thirty-three of your fellow men but also, to do so in sacrifice to the Demons of the Lower Realms in direct opposition to the Gods. For these crimes, I shall show no leniency. Tomorrow at first light, your death shall be handed under the feet of the elephants; to thrice defy, the Dehaḥṃār deserves no less,” said Prelūshyodhaḥm as his words echoed in the hall. He looked about him and continued, “I trust there are no objections?”

No one spoke. Furutham resigned himself to the punishment, expecting no less. All nodded in approval including Feyūnhaḥ, Sanyhaḥmān, and Nakthaḥm. But Tūmbṃār did not, and now standing next to the priest, he now voiced his objection much to everyone’s surprise in the hall.

“Lord Prelūshyodhaḥm, this is unjust! Isn’t it said by the law that an Arhaḥmā should never be killed regardless of vice, as they stand as the upholders of the various orders? They, along with the milk from the animals used as oblations, are also said to be needed for sacrifices to the Gods and it is asserted that killing them should bring about great doom to this world if truly their hearts haven’t been fully corrupted. I know his intentions were to lead many to death and even to summon the demon, yet we prevented the worst case and saved the captives. Furutham has shown remorse and guilt over his actions; he knows what he’s done is wrong. Surely there’s a fairer punishment that can be given to him!”

The aristocrats were horrified, and no less was Feyūnhaḥ, but she did not rush to Tūmbṃār’s side in fear of provoking the King’s ire toward him.

Prelūshyodhaḥm looked intently to Tūmbṃār and said, “Child, though you have saved my daughter and the captives and are a disciple of that great sage, not even you can say otherwise against this judgement that is indeed prescribed by the law; it does not permit leniency in this regard, for his actions have very well made an affront to the Gods. Would they even accept an offering given by him now? I would say ‘nay’, and so therefore, being stripped of any association to the order of the Arhaḥmān, should he be regarded as dead.”

Having heard this, the boy immediately said, “You said he’s to be only regarded as dead. It doesn’t necessarily mean he has to be executed. What little I remember from teacher regarding the precepts of the law would have me say that there are other ways of observing this punishment.”

Prelūshyodhaḥm while a little vexed, was intrigued and asked, “Then what punishment would you have me deliver upon him?”

“Banish him from this land! And let him join our group under our watch! Such punishments were given in the past for even the worst of crimes, especially those of Ghrthhāya, Civistahram, Shraovast, and Viscavim: the brothers of Zūryaṃār.”

The lord now furious, responded, “That is too light a punishment! Zūryaṃār himself was scolded to no end by his ministers for such a decision, and I no doubt know that Lūshhaḥ, had even his reservations on that point. What good would it do for the townsfolk for such improper justice to be handed? Do you think me a fool?”

“The purpose of a punishment is to correct a person’s character! What good would his death do other than telling people to ‘not commit the same action’? People know in their hearts it’s wrong, and yet still commit to such deeds, nonetheless. I’ve seen my fair share of crimes in my own village, and while I know the death of someone is rarely given, understanding my teacher’s words and the harsh punishments given there, this execution shan’t have the effect you want! Rare it’ll be for another person like Furutham to commit the same wrong, so there’s little merit in handing his death. Forgive his actions and let him redeem himself, even if he won’t be able to return here. I can’t tell you with confidence what is truly right or wrong, but this, in my opinion, is the more just and proper course!”

These words were quite unlike the boy, and though they could not say whether they were of right accord, they were surprised that he could even argue in such a way. Feyūnhaḥ who had, for the most part, treated him as no more than a child, knew then that the boy was more intelligent than he let on. Even the aristocrats, agitated over this argument, could not help but admire Tūmbṃār’s leniency toward Furutham, reminiscent of the tales of noble kings they had heard as children, especially of Zūryaṃār toward whom they could not help but feel an affinity even given his mistakes.

Hayutsu then stood and, bowing to Prelūshyodhaḥm, said, “Lord, I am in agreement with Tūmbṃār. The proposal he gives, I believe, is just as right. If I may be allowed to interrupt longer, there was a story given in the Atneṃārhaḥn of the kings of Utanjhanam and Yukandheyo.

“In it, we have been told that the King of Utanjhanam, Āvishvajysht – He of Unceasing Ambition, was wicked and evil beyond comprehension but his war with the King of Yukandheyo, Zhaukyavā – One of Pervading Compassion – led to his defeat. Usually, in such circumstances, the unjust King would be killed, and such was the case in many other stories and legends, but in this one, the King Zhaukyavā lessened the punishment and instead allowed King Āvishvajysht to rule over his kingdom so long as he swore fealty to him.

“While Āvishvajysht felt humiliated and over many years schemed against Zhaukyavā, he always thwarted the former’s activities before they could amount to anything. Over many years, Āvishvajysht slowly began to change his ways until he became a great and just ruler, well-versed in the Vādrunṃs, ever-righteous and beloved by his subjects.”

“What is your point, Hayutsu?” demanded Prelūshyodhaḥm.

He smiled and said, “Are you not descended from the King Āvishvajysht, my lord?”

Prelūshyodhaḥm was dumbstruck, and silence hung within the assembly. He sat collecting his thoughts. Though all in the town knew of their lord’s ancestry, never had they given thought to the ramifications that one king’s actions would have on their situation.

“Though the point you make is very good, I must say that my forefather lived during the Era of Foundation, a time where righteousness waxed stronger than it does now.”

“But I ask, sire, at least consider the boy’s suggestion; perhaps this is a reason why that great sage sent this boy our way.”

Prelūshyodhaḥm thought long and hard. He looked at Tūmbṃār and then at Furutham and said, “I shall give my answer tomorrow.”

The assembly was dismissed, and Furutham was taken away. He looked at Tūmbṃār with a smile, but the boy knew sadness abounded within him. And when the hall was emptied of most of the aristocrats and the lord, his friends and Hayutsu came to his side. Sanyhaḥmān ruffled the boy’s hair and said, “To think you would say such a thing to a lord! I thought you were brazen when speaking to the captain, but now I see you’re as foolish as can be. Though seeing as how luck seems to be on your side, it doesn’t appear to be such a bad thing.”

“Don’t encourage him,” said Feyūnhaḥ. She bent down to him and continued, “You need to take greater care in how and when to engage, Tūmbṃār. Were things to have gone afoul, we would all have had to flee from here, and who knows what could’ve happened to Vrihkhaḥ?”

The boy, however, was not dissuaded. “Things’ll be fine, Feyūnhaḥ. Plus, I couldn’t bear to see the high priest executed. Even though what he did was wrong, no one in this world deserves death. I saw all of you agree to his execution, and that is something I shan’t ever agree with!”

“Think as you will, but I ask that you be more cautious. Keep your goal in mind. Whatever injustices you see will have to be disregarded; we are not in a position to correct every wrong in this world. I myself have seen the injustice of the lower folk with which I’m sure Hayutsu is all too familiar.”

Hayutsu nodded but hung his head low. He thought that he was as much a problem as those who openly allowed and acted on such things.

“I wouldn’t have allowed such things to be, were it not for my position. I have a duty to find our friend and do as the sage asked. Can you tell me that you would forsake your mission for such things over which you have little power?”

“I have already done so now!” said Tūmbṃār, now much angered. “What comes shall come, but I won’t stand by while such things happen around me! Had I only thought about Iḷēhaḥ, even Nakthaḥm would’ve died! I know I can’t please everyone, but I mustn’t stand idle and let things that I don’t want to happen, come to pass.”

And after saying those words, he stormed out of the hall. Feyūnhaḥ did not know how to respond.

She then gave chase after Tūmbṃār and told the others to head back to the inn. When she was out of sight, Hayutsu spoke, “Though it is not my place to ask, what did the boy mean by you having to die, Nakthaḥm?”

He remained silent for a time and then said, “The one for whom we search, she has a particular distaste for me and my kind, and that—upon our meeting—almost led to my death. Though I should say her wrath was not unwarranted.”

Nakthaḥm wished to be vague but this only further confused Hayutsu. He decided not to question more deeply and bowed to them before bidding them well.

“You sure it was okay for you to tell him that?” asked Sanyhaḥmān. “It shouldn’t take him long to figure out what you are.”

“Little does it matter now. We shall be leaving tomorrow in any case, and I do not think we shall ever have to come back to this town.”

“Be that as it may, don’t you think it will still cause us a bit of trouble?”

“Perhaps, but I do not much care,” said Nakthaḥm as the two now walked out of the throne room. “It should only serve to make things more interesting than they already are.”

The monkey-man laughed and patted the demon on the back.

Feyūnhaḥ scoured high and low for hours, but Tūmbṃār was nowhere to be found. She went back to the inn multiple times to see if he had come back but to no avail. The moon shifted in the night sky, and when its light was hidden behind the clouds, she returned to the inn. She sat in the main hall and ordered some milk wine, thinking long and hard about where he could have gone.

She had looked in all districts and all the main vistas but seeing as Tūmbṃār had little intention of being found, such places did not warrant another look. She had also looked through the alleys and other hard-to-navigate locations, but there was no trace of his presence there either. He could have been in one of the buildings or public establishments, but most were closed, and she had already visited the ones that were still open—which were few—and found nothing.

She sighed to herself as a mug was brought her way. The waiter bowed and smiled, and she nodded in return. She took up the mug and gulped much of its contents, then slammed it back onto the table. It rattled a bit, but the princess did not seem to mind as she too slumped onto its surface with a flushed face.

A few moments passed, and she heard the chairs on the other end being moved, and she looked up and saw Sanyhaḥmān and Nakthaḥm. She brought herself up with little grace and immediately questioned them.

“Where were you two? Didn’t I tell you to return to the inn?”

Sanyhaḥmān ordered some Svyamhaḥ, and responded, “Sorry, Feyūnhaḥ, we did indeed come here as soon as we left the castle, but didn’t stay long. We were quite restless, and so we went on a stroll across town. We probably missed each other, but we can assure you Tūmbṃār wasn’t anywhere in our path, nor did he return to the inn.”

She sighed again and dropped down. “Where could he be? It’s not good for us to have to wait for him.”

“You needn’t worry so much; he can well take care of himself,” said Sanyhaḥmān as he sipped from his mug. “Granted, I’ve only known your party for a few days, but knowing his circumstances, he should come around soon enough. Latest by morrow’s morn.”

“That isn’t the issue,” said Feyūnhaḥ as her mug was refilled. “We shouldn’t be at odds with one another as we travel farther. Problems will arise, but Tūmbṃār needs to understand what we can and can’t do. He’s indeed right that there are actions we shouldn’t overlook, but sticking our nose into other people’s affairs when it isn’t needed will only serve up trouble for us.”

Nakthaḥm then asked, “But you were at odds with me, were you not?”

Feyūnhaḥ did not respond, but she knew he was right.

“I would like to think we are both on good terms now, but I know well enough that you still harbor some distrust for me, and I do not blame you for it. However, you seem to think we shall be journeying for quite some time. Do you not think it shall end when we reach the mountains?”

Feyūnhaḥ swirled the milk wine and inhaled the aroma. Though flushed, she was not much inebriated and could still think straight.

She understood well what Nakthaḥm said and responded, “No, I sense that this is but a prelude to an even longer journey. If what you told us is true Nakthaḥm, about the situation in the Lower Realms, then there’s indeed more to be had with the Dvhaḥṣhtro. And regardless, Tūmbṃār will most likely continue to travel afar. He has a little less than twelve years to the end of his curse, and he seems to want to see the entire world for himself. And having journeyed this far with him, I don’t wish to leave him alone. I also have some other personal business to attend to, but that can wait. I shall have to face it anyhow along our journey.”

Nakthaḥm smiled and tapped his nails against the table. “Well, once we meet the maiden, we shall have a whole host of other problems coming our way, unfortunately, because of me. But I guess such things will be solved in time. As for the boy, you still wish to converse with him, do you not?”

She nodded slowly.

“There is one place we neglected to search, and it was where I found the boy yesterday,” he said as he stopped his tapping. He had gotten Feyūnhaḥ’s attention, and he continued, “There is a shop in the southern district that sells pastries and other such food, though at this time it is closed. What I suggest – though lacking manners – is to eavesdrop outside the building. Given your exceptional hearing, it should be easy enough for you to tell if he is there or not.”

She stood up, dropped some coins onto the table, and thanked Nakthaḥm before running out of the inn.

“Wait, if you knew he could be there, why didn’t we check that place?” asked Sanyhaḥmān perplexed.

“Think for a bit, monkey!” said Nakthaḥm, “had we gone and found Tūmbṃār ourselves, would he really have talked with Feyūnhaḥ afterward?”

“He might have,” said Sanyhaḥmān with a shrug.

“No, I do not think so,” said Nakthaḥm, shaking his head, “and that being the case, let them resolve their problem on their own. There was also the issue with my powers. My senses are slowly being dulled, and now it seems, barring certain exceptions, I can only detect those who attribute malice of some kind.”

“I see. Well aside from that, quite the hefty sum we got from the lord, didn’t we?” said Sanyhaḥmān as he looked at the coins on the table.

“Indeed, three thousand gold coins richer we are. Though you can keep my share, I have little if any need for it.”

Sanyhaḥmān, giddy, thanked him much for his dispensation. He finished the remaining Svyamhaḥ, and the two retired for the night.