The Serpent's Shadow

Rhadi's eyes flashed; he flew to her shoulder as Charan leaped into her lap. 'Love you!' the parrot exclaimed, as a declaration, and not an endearment. Then, astonishingly, 'Watch for you! Fight for you! All! All! Shivani bad! We guard!'

Charan balled his little fists and nodded emphatically, even as Maya's mouth dropped open in shock. Reflex- ively, she looked at the others. As she met the eyes of each in turn, each one nodded, slowly and deliberately.

These—are not pets. Even as she thought that, she wondered just what they were. Or perhaps, what Surya had made them. . . .

They all clustered closely around until they touched her, the owl and the falcon swooping down to land on the arms of her chair, the peacock nestling in against her right leg, the mongooses jumping up into the chair to share her lap with Charan. Then Charan reached up, touched her cheek with his little black 'hand' and turned her face so that she looked into his eyes.

And all that she could see were his eyes. She felt as if she were falling into them, but how could she be afraid? She had known him from her birth; he had shared her cradle, her playtime, her very food. He was her friend and companion. They trusted each other with a surety past words.

We are—briefly—more than we seem, little healer.

The words flowed into her mind. For this moment, astonishment, fear, any other thought or emotion that might interfere with this communication was held at bay, so that she could hear what they needed to say to her. A strength so great that it could easily crush her if it cared to cradled her instead, and dropped its words gently into her open heart.

This is not our land, and you are only half our child, but you are in our charge, the words went on. We will fight for you and stand guard over you. Charan's face took on a solemnity and wisdom mingled with a hint of great mischief; Nisha's feathers were as white as snow. Rajah spread his fan for her, the parrot's eyes flashed, and the two mongooses sat erect, small but proud warriors, their large eyes bright with intelligence. But you, too, may come to a place where you must take up arms, and you must find an ally of the power of this place, or nothing we can do will help you prevail. She has grown stronger with every passing day, and grows stronger still. There is much evil in this city, and darkness feeds upon and strengthens darkness. Child, your foe will not rest until she drinks you dry and casts away the husk. She lusts for what you hold, and will pursue you no matter where you go to have it. Your magic cannot hide you forever, and when it fails, you must be ready.

Charan dropped his hand from her cheek; suddenly she was herself again. She put her hand to her throat, feeling as if her collar choked her, cold with fear that bound her with rings of iron.

A touch from Charan's cheek on hers freed her from that terrible fear so quickly it had to have magic behind it. Her mind swirled with speculations, but one settled out and quickly became a certainty.

The many gods of India wore many faces and many guises, and not all of them were human.

Rhadi laughed, with a note in the laughter of triumph, and Charan nodded again. She all but collapsed against the back of her chair and stared at them.

'I need—a little time to absorb this,' she said weakly.

'Yes,' Rhadi said, and flew back up onto one of his perches, followed by the owl and the falcon. A little dazed, Maya was not so bedazzled that she did not notice that Nisha's feathers, which had been white, were slowly darkening to their usual brown and golden hues. A white owl, a falcon, a peacock . . . She tried to think; Charan surely was the voice of Hanuman—goodness, he was a Hanuman langur, how could she not have suspected? The others—

As often as Rhadi says 'I love you,' perhaps he does speak in the voice of Kama. Goodness—Kama, the god of all love—doesn't he even have a parrot as his chosen mount? A white owl—that would be Lak- smi; she's Vishnu's consort, and as fierce in fighting evil as he is. And when Rajah touched me, my fear was simply gone; the god Skanda slays terror, and I know he is represented by the fearless peacock. . . .

Who or what the others could be eluded her for now; she had lived for so long among all the tales and beliefs of her homeland, and yet she could remember so little!

STILL trying to think her way past the shocks of the last hour, Maya made her way around the periphery of the house, reinforcing her magics, trailed by the mongooses and Charan. It seemed to her that tonight there was more power there, behind her own, perhaps coming from her little friends. The walls glowed brighter to her inner sight than they ever had before, and there was a strong taste of honey and sandalwood in her mouth as she