Vandiyathevan turned around. From his stomach, his intestines seemed to rise up and block his chest. Then, climbing higher still, they choked his throat. A thousand flashes of lightning coursed through his body. The points of a hundred thousand ripe and hardened needles pierced him all over—such was the terrifying sight that unfolded before his eyes.

In the endless expanse of darkness, here and there, ten, twenty, a hundred balls of fire appeared. There was no smoke from them; there was no light; nor were they the flames that rise from burning wood below. They were mere lumps of fire. Somehow, they had risen from the earth and stood suspended. Suddenly, some of those fireballs vanished. New ones sprang up in their place.

A colossal demon, black as the night itself, like the Kabandha of legend—one without a head, with a mouth in its belly—stood there. But this demon had not one, but many mouths. He opened and closed those mouths again and again. When he opened them, tongues of fire leapt out from his belly through those mouths. When he closed them, the flames disappeared.

Witnessing this scene, Vandiyathevan felt as though blood was seeping out through every hair on his body. Never before had such terror seized him—not even in the subterranean chamber of Periya Pazhuvettaraiyar.

Behind him, he heard a laugh—“Ha ha ha!” He turned. It was Poonguzhali! At another time, that very laughter might have filled him with unspeakable dread. But now, it gave him courage. The presence of a living, breathing woman of flesh and blood beside him was like a staff to cling to in the midst of great peril.

“Did you see my lovers?” Poonguzhali asked.

“These fiery-mouthed demons are my lovers. It is to converse with them that I come here at midnight,” she said.

There was not the slightest doubt in Vandiyathevan’s mind now that this woman was quite mad. Was it possible to reach Lanka with her help?—so he wondered. Yet, from deep within, another thought struggled to surface. What was it? Something about these fiery-mouthed demons.

“Can your friend Sendhan Amudhan ever hope to compete with such lovers?” asked Poonguzhali, her voice echoing as though it came from the depths of a well. For, at that moment, Vandiyathevan’s mind was striving to recall something. Ah! At last, a great struggle—yes, now he remembered…

In lands where the earth is mixed with sulphur, water often stagnates for a long time, turning the ground into a marsh. In such places, at night, strange phenomena appear. When sulphur-laden gases rise from the earth and escape into the air, it sometimes looks as if tongues of fire are flickering above the ground. Sometimes these flames linger; sometimes they flare up briefly and vanish. People who do not understand this natural occurrence are frightened by it. They give it a terrifying name—‘the demon of the burning mouth’—and are seized by fear…

He had heard elders speak of such things; now it all came back to him. Then, within him, a battle raged between his reason and his fear. Reason triumphed. But there was no use explaining all this now to this girl, who was so gripped by her own delusions. Somehow, he had to speak kindly to her and persuade her to come away.

“Girl! Your lovers are not going anywhere; they will remain here. You can come and see them again tomorrow, can’t you? Let’s go home, come!” he said.

Poonguzhali did not reply; she began to sob uncontrollably.

“What a nuisance this is!” thought Vandiyathevan. He stood silent for a moment.

“Girl! Shall we go?” he asked again.

Her sobs did not cease.

Vandiyathevan grew impatient.

“Very well; do as you wish! I am feeling sleepy. I’m going,” he said, and began to descend.

At once, Poonguzhali stifled her sobs. She started down from the mound, and in a flash, she was ahead of Vandiyathevan, standing below.

Vandiyathevan hurried after her and caught hold of her.

Together, they began to walk towards the lighthouse.

‘Is it wise to trust this mad girl and get into the boat? To cross the sea with her? Yet, it seems there is no other way. Should I try to win her over with kind words, and make her a friend?’

“Look, a comet has appeared in the sky! What do you think about that?” asked Poonguzhali.

“I have no particular opinion. A comet appears; that is all,” replied Vandiyathevan.

“They say that when a comet appears in the sky, great calamities befall the earth!”

“Yes, that is what some people say.”

“What do you say?”

“I have never studied astrology. I only know what people say among themselves.”

They walked in silence for a while.

Then Poonguzhali asked, “They say the Emperor is unwell. Is that true?”

‘She is not as mad as she seems,’ thought Vandiyathevan. A little hope arose in him.

“I have seen it with my own eyes. The Emperor lies bedridden. He has no feeling in either leg. He cannot take even a single step. I have come to fetch a rare herb to cure him. Girl, will you help me?” he asked.

Without answering, Poonguzhali asked, “They say the Emperor will not live long, that he will die soon. Is that true?”

“If you do not help me now, it may well happen as they say. There is a rare life-restoring herb in Lanka. If we bring it, the Emperor may recover. Will you row the boat and take me to Lanka?”

“If the Emperor dies, who will ascend the throne next?” Poonguzhali’s question struck Vandiyathevan like a blow.

“Girl! What does it matter to you or me? Why should we worry about who ascends the throne?”

“Why shouldn’t we worry? Aren’t you and I subjects of this kingdom?”

‘This girl is not mad at all. I must deal with her cautiously. There must be some other reason behind her strange behavior.’

“Why are you silent? Who will ascend the throne