Nandini came and stood near the garden entrance of the Latha Mandapam and clapped her hands three times.

At that moment, it was impossible to say whether the lines on her face were those of fear or merely the dark shadows cast by the trees.

A little way into the garden, large trees and the vines that twined around them could be seen. Beyond that, it was a single mass of darkness.

Tearing through the gloom, pushing aside the creepers, a sorcerer emerged from behind a tree.

Nandini went and seated herself on her flower-strewn couch. Now, a calm had settled over her beautiful face.

The sorcerer entered the Latha Mandapam. The golden lamp’s flame cast its light upon his face.

A familiar face! Who was he? Yes! He was one of those men who had gathered at midnight near the Thirupurambiyam school barracks. The one who had poured out gold coins from his pouch with a clatter. This was Ravidasan, the man who had told the others, “Wherever you see Azhwarkadiyan, kill him at once!”

Even as he approached, anger was boiling on his face. When he saw Nandini, sitting serenely on her bed of flowers, his cat-like eyes flashed with a wild, furious fire.

He sat down on the plank that lay opposite the couch, fixed his gaze on Nandini, and began to chant, “Hoom Hreem Hram! Bhagavati! Shakti! Chandikeswari!…” reciting several mantras.

“That’s enough! Stop!” Nandini interrupted. “The old woman has fallen asleep on the threshold, it seems. Say what you must quickly! ‘He’ has come into the fort!”

“Wretched woman!” Ravidasan’s words hissed like a cobra.

“Whom do you mean?” Nandini asked, her voice still calm.

“You, ungrateful Nandini! The younger queen of Pazhuvoor! You!” Ravidasan pointed a finger at her.

Nandini remained silent. “Girl! It seems you have forgotten some events that you ought to remember. Let me remind you of them,” said Ravidasan.

“Why bring up old tales now?” asked Nandini.

“Do you ask why now? I will tell you. First, let me remind you, and then I shall explain,” replied Ravidasan.

As if she thought it useless to try and stop him, Nandini let out a deep sigh and turned away to face the other side.

“Queen! Listen! Three years ago, one night at midnight, on the banks of the Vaigai river, a funeral pyre was burning in the cremation ground. No last rites were performed there by priests according to the scriptures. They had gathered dried logs, twigs, and leaves from the forest to build that pyre. From behind a tree, they brought forth a body that had been hidden and placed it upon the pyre. Then they set it alight. The flames caught well on the forest wood and blazed fiercely. At that moment, from the shadows of the forest, some men dragged you forth. Your hands and feet were bound. A cloth was stuffed into your mouth. Today, you sit adorned with flowers and your hair neatly coiled, but then