As soon as he reached the southern bank of the Kollidam, Azhwarkkadiyan turned westward. He saw that, due to the breach in the Kollidam, the land everywhere had become a vast floodplain. Yet, it seemed that the water level in the Kollidam was receding; even in the areas where the floodwaters had spread, the water was draining away swiftly. At last, he reached Thiruppurambayam. He was astonished to see that, despite the heavy flooding, that town alone had remained unaffected. He thought to himself, “Perhaps this is why the legend arose that, when the world was submerged in the primeval deluge, only Thiruppurambayam remained above water.” With this thought, he approached the forest near the temple.

Though many trees had been uprooted and fallen due to the storm, the forest was still dense enough to offer him the concealment he needed. As he peered through the thicket, he saw three men and a woman standing and conversing at the entrance of the temple. Looking closely, he realized that all of them were people he had seen before. These three men had been among those who had first gathered in this very forest to plot their conspiracy. One was Soman Sambavan, another was Kramavithan, and the third was Idumbankari. The woman was the wife of Murugaiyan, the boatman. Among them, Idumbankari seemed to be telling the others something. The news appeared to fill them with excitement.

“All right! In that case, let us also set out at once for the foot of the Pachai Hills. It will take us two days to get there,” said Soman Sambavan, and these words reached Azhwarkkadiyan’s ears.

Thinking he should leave before they did, Azhwarkkadiyan turned to go. Suddenly, he was startled to see a small dagger pointed at his chest. The hand holding it, he realized with relief, was Poonguzhali’s. Their surprise gave way to smiles as they recognized each other.

After the conspirators had left, Azhwarkkadiyan asked, “Poonguzhali! How did you come here from Thanjavur? For what purpose?”

“I have come to avenge a wrong,” Poonguzhali replied.

“What wrong? For what reason?” “One among these men is the wretch who murdered my aunt and fled. I pursued that criminal without letting him escape, and caught up to him here. But three others had already arrived before him. Among them, when I saw my elder brother’s wife, I was struck dumb with shock! At that very moment, you came and intervened! Now, what can I do? If you are willing to help me, let us not lose sight of them. I will follow them, slay the one who killed my aunt, and return!” she said.

“Alas! Poor soul! Your aunt—do you mean that mute queen, Mandakini? Why would one of these men kill her?” asked Azhwarkkadiyan.

“She was not killed by design. The spear that was meant for the Emperor, she took upon herself!” she replied.

“Oh! Is that so? The mute queen gave her life to save the Emperor? How did all this happen? Tell me in detail, let me hear it!”

“Is this the time to go into details? They will escape if we delay!”

“Poonguzhali! I know where they are going. I have guessed for what purpose and whom they intend to meet. It is best not to hinder them on the way. Let us go to the place they are headed. Once I have learned what I wish to know there, you may exact your revenge,” said Azhwarkkadiyan.

“In that case, let us set out! I will tell you everything that happened in Thanjavur as we go!” said Poonguzhali.

The two of them crossed the Kollidam by boat and reached the opposite shore. They journeyed northwest. For three days and nights they traveled, until at last they reached the foothills of the green mountain. At the base of the mountain, the forest grew thick and wild, making it difficult to discover where those they sought might be hiding. After so much arduous travel, their spirits flagged, fearing all their efforts might be in vain.

Suddenly, the hoot of an owl rang out. In answer, another call echoed in the same manner. Azhwarkkadiyan’s face brightened. He signaled to Poonguzhali, wordlessly urging her to follow him. Where the owl calls had sounded, a clearing appeared. There, seven or eight people were gathered. Some were tending a fire, cooking their meal. Others were deep in conversation. It was clear that those who had been there before and those newly arrived were exchanging some astonishing news with one another.

Ravidasan was already among those present there. At that moment, he was pointing out a mountain cave at some distance to the newcomers and explaining something to them. Azhwarkkadiyan noticed this. In a low voice, he said, “Poonguzhali! The people I have been searching for must be inside that cave. I will quietly slip in and see. If any of these people approach the cave, give me a signal!”

“I cannot hoot like an owl. I will call out like a cuckoo,” replied Poonguzhali.

The mountain cave had several large openings to allow air and light to enter. Thus, daylight streamed inside. In that light, Azhwarkkadiyan beheld a remarkable sight. Periya Pazhuvettarayar was dressed in a tiger-skin garment, like a fearsome ascetic of the Kalamukha sect. Beside him lay a garland made of skulls. From the pallor of his face, one could guess that he must have lost a great deal of blood. He was lying on the ground, and it seemed that he had just regained consciousness and was trying to sit up. He looked as though he had just awakened from a terrifying dream world. His eyes opened wide and glittered. Nandini was by his side. Her ornaments had been removed, and her hair was loose and disheveled. Yet her enchanting beauty shone forth now with manifold brilliance, surpassing even before. With a voice overflowing with love, care, pity, and regret, she said, “Sir! Please drink this gruel!” and extended a clay vessel