When the sword slipped from his hand and fell to the ground, the sound mingled with the soft laughter of Nandini, a laughter brimming with sorrow.

In a flurry, she said, “Sir! The will of the gods is otherwise. Let the sword remain here. You must leave at once and hide yourself!”

Vandiyathevan, paying no heed to her words, bent down to pick up the sword. He tried to lift it by grasping its sharp tip. At that very moment, Nandini pressed her foot firmly on the hilt of the sword.

“No! The prince may have heard the sound of the sword falling. If the sword is missing from here, it will arouse his suspicion. Already, he harbors doubts about you. Go! Disappear from here as you did once before—vanish without a trace this time as well!” she urged.

In his attempt to pick up the sword by its tip, Vandiyathevan’s hand suffered a small cut. He let go of the sword and straightened up. Nandini noticed the thin trickle of blood oozing from his palm.

“I will fulfill the promise I made to you. By my hand, I will not kill my own brother. You will escape. But if he finds you here…”

“Go! Go at once!” Manimekalai pleaded, joining her voice to Nandini’s.

The sound of approaching footsteps grew louder.

With reluctant annoyance, Vandiyathevan hurried toward the storage chest of the veenas and other musical instruments. He opened the chest, slipped inside, and concealed himself. The footsteps now sounded very close, right by the entrance.

Nandini glanced at Manimekalai, who was staring in astonishment at the place where Vandiyathevan had hidden himself.

“Sister! You must hide as well! Conceal yourself behind the curtains of the bed! When we are speaking, slip away from here without his notice!” Nandini whispered urgently.

The very next moment, as Manimekalai hid herself behind the bed’s curtain, Aditya Karikalan and Kandanmaran entered the room. Karikalan, all the while glancing around him, drew closer to Nandini. He noticed the movement of the curtain draped over the bed, but he did not let on that he had seen it.

When he reached Nandini’s side, he looked at the sword lying on the floor, half-hidden in the shadows. Then, he fixed his gaze intently upon Nandini’s face. Unable to withstand the piercing intensity of that look, Nandini bent down, pretending as if to pick up the sword. Sensing her intention, Karikalan was quicker; he picked up the sword himself. He examined it closely, from the hilt to the sharp tip. He noticed a fresh bloodstain at the tip.

Then, turning to Nandini, he said, “Devi! The sound we heard as we entered—was it not the sound of this sword? It must have slipped from your hand and fallen to the ground! It seems you were ready to welcome us with sword in hand.”

“To receive valiant young tigers and lion-hearted youths, is that not the proper way?” replied Nandini.

“Wild tigers and lions need sharp claws and teeth. But does a leaping, playful spotted deer need such weapons? Is that why God did not grant them any?” said Aditya Karikalan.

“Even a deer may find need to use its horns, may it not? Perhaps there will come a time when the gentle deer must thank the Creator for giving it those horns. Please, in your mercy, return that sword to me!” Nandini pleaded.

“No, no! This does not suit your hands. How can the tender hands that Brahma created for plucking flowers and weaving garlands hold a sword?” said Karikalan.

“Great Prince! There was a time when these poor hands eagerly plucked flowers and lovingly wove garlands. There was a time when I waited and waited, hoping for the one worthy to wear that garland, only to be disappointed. The days of dreaming such daydreams have passed—many ages have gone by since then. Now, these helpless, orphaned hands are forced to seek solace in the sword. Sir, do not take even that solace away from me!” said Nandini.

“Devi! What is this you say? Do you call yourself a helpless orphan? How many young warriors wait, ready to fulfill with their heads the tasks you set with your feet? This is—” “Do you not know?” asked Karikalan.

“If, by some misfortune, my foot were ever to fall into the hands of such scoundrels, I would have to cut it off, my lord! For that alone, is not a sword necessary?”

“Oh! What a harsh and merciless speech is this? Are those feet, which ought to learn the graceful gait of swans and the modest walk of maidens, echoing with the tinkling of anklets in the palace halls, to be cut off? If these words were to reach the ears of Periya Pazhuvetaraiyar, how much would his heart suffer?”

“My lord! Who is there to worry about him? When that old lion lets out a single roar, did not the young tigers, trembling with fear, flee and hide? But now, how boldly those young tigers stride out in the open! Was it not only after hearing the news that he was swept away in the flood of the Kollidam that these young tigers found such courage? I kept this weapon only to ensure those tigers did not come too close to me. To protect the honor of that great man, who took me from the dust and called me to the world’s attention, granting me palace life and royal splendor, I sought the help of this sword. As you said just now, I trained these hands, meant to pluck flowers, to wield a sword…”

“Devi! Was it truly only for that? Was it only to protect Periya Pazhuvetaraiyar’s honor that you kept this sword in a casket and worshipped it, that you caressed and cherished it with cheeks softer than flowers? Or was it to keep at bay the fools who draw near, laughing foolishly as they gaze upon you? Was there no other purpose?”

“What other