Nandini took up that radiant sword and, with longing, pressed it to her bosom. Then, bringing it close to her face, she kissed it with her crimson lips. For a moment, it was as if a lotus blossom of fire was kissing another lotus. In the next instant, it seemed as though a blood-red armored cloud was trying to block the full moon. Nandini’s face now resembled the fierce and beautiful visage of Kali, the goddess to whom the Kapalikas offer blood sacrifices. But when she set the sword down beside her as before, her face regained its former enchanting allure.

“Yes, this sword is the omen the gods have given me. But I do not yet know the meaning of that omen. I frequently send this sword to the blacksmith’s forge, to have it cleansed, tempered, and sharpened. I guard it as a tigress would protect her cub. Before the cub comes of age, it must not fall prey to the wild buffaloes with their long horns, must it? Just as the Arabs cherish their horses with tender love, so do I safeguard this sword. As Vanamadevi serves the ailing Emperor Sundara Chola, so do I serve this sword. The gods have not yet revealed to me what I am to do with it. Is it their command that these hands, accustomed to weaving garlands, must one day drive this sword into the venomous heart of some wretch? Or is it the divine will that I must turn this blade upon my own breast, letting my blood gush forth and smear these limbs adorned with silks and jewels, and thus meet my end? I do not yet know. The deity who gave me this sword will, when the time comes, reveal that too. Since I do not know when that moment will arrive, I remain ever prepared, day and night, at any hour.

Yes, it is well known throughout the land that the young queen of Pazhuvur, famed for her beauty, delights in fine garments and ornaments. All sixty nazhigais of day and night, I adorn myself, beautifying this body. Alas! Periya Pazhuvetaraiyar, for his sake and for the sake of his honor, rejoices in the thought that I am always resplendent, ever adorned! He does not know of the fire that burns unceasingly in my heart!” Vallavarayan, who had been listening to all this as if in a trance, regained his self-possession and asked, “Lady! Where is Periya Pazhuvetarayar?”

“Why? Are you afraid to meet that old man?” asked Nandini.

“No, Lady! I am not afraid to see you—why should I fear Pazhuvetarayar?” replied Vandiyathevan.

“Ah! That is the reason I like you. For some reason, everyone seems to be afraid of me. Even the mighty Periya Pazhuvetarayar, a warrior among warriors, who has fought in countless battles and bears sixty-four scars upon his body, trembles when he sees me. Chinna Pazhuvetarayar—Kalanthaka Kandar, who could strike terror even into Death itself—shudders when he comes near me. Even Madurantaka