Satya spoke after a succinct pause. “Acharya will never agree to rename the store to a clinic. It’s just too soon to do that.” Her eyes turned downcast. “I don’t want to either. You know I can’t use my powers to treat patients anymore.” She fell silent again. 

While trying to save Anjalika from the mysterious dark magic poison, Satya had almost depleted her very own life force. Since then, she couldn’t risk using healing magic under any conditions. 

Fortunately, there had been no need for it. Her patients at the store and at the university hospital, where she accompanied Acharya during classes, responded well to the conventional medical treatment. 

Meanwhile, Uncle Madhava had taken charge of her recovery. Although he was unaware of how to restore her powers, he believed good nutrition, yoga, training, and meditation would prove effective for self healing. 

Satya had not regretted losing her powers. Not long ago, she had been using magic without discretion, even for treating the most basic ailments. At first, it had been childish rapture at seeing people recover faster than usual. Over time, it had become an obsession to see how far she could push her powers to the limit. 

She loved her studies, but only after losing her magical ability she understood her own weakness. A level of arrogance had seeped into her reasoning. She had believed that the medicine would not work without healing magic. Now she could appreciate the natural efficacy of the drugs. 

Shaking off her gloomy thoughts, she reasoned, “There’s a proper procedure to get the license. The senior scribe at the mayor’s office is helping me.”

Uncle Madhava rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said. “Acharya wouldn’t give me a definite answer about renaming the store. He told me something else has been bothering him.”

“Something else?”

“Is it true that Senapati Veerata still comes to visit you at the university?”

She sighed and nodded. “Every two days.”

Uncle Madhava frowned. “Satya, why didn’t you tell me?”

“There’s nothing to tell. He’s a patient, that’s all. I healed his leg three months ago, didn’t I? Sometimes he feels mild pain and discomfort. So, he seeks follow up treatment from me.”

“Is that true?”

She rolled her eyes. “Not you, too! My classmates have been making silly jokes. The great general of Satayu is in love with me. Ridiculous!” 

Her uncle smiled, yet his eyes betrayed a disquiet in his heart. The next instant, his face turned serious again. “Acharya sounded upset about Senapati’s visits.”

She shrugged. “A few days ago Acharya scolded Senapati for disturbing me during class. Since then, he only visits me once classes are over.”

The old man’s brows went up. “Scolded?”

She sniggered. “Right in front of me.”

Uncle Madhava grunted. “I thought Senapati would be busy enough, since he is the temporary mayor of Satvikshila right now.” He looked at her again. “Well, if you meet him so often, why haven’t you asked him to approve the store license?”

She shook her head. “He’s just a patient. It didn’t feel right to speak about licenses out of the blue. The senior scribe told me to apply for an appointment at the mayor’s office and present my case to him there.”

“Your Aunt and I will go with you.” 

“There’s no need for that. Why do you worry so much?”

Uncle Madhava stood up to his full height. The clean, early morning air and warm sunlight had invigorated him. Even at sixty-five, he towered over most of the residents of the tiny hamlet where they were living for the last three years. 

Home to thirty-odd families, the settlement had sprung up seven years ago outside the medical university town of Satvikshila, in the kingdom of Satayu. The economically backward residents of the hamlet worked as day labourers, providing basic amenities and services to temporary contractors living in the close by western suburbs, in a barter system.

Noted for his uncommon strength, great wisdom and respectable manners, Uncle Madhava was the best odd-jobs man in the hamlet. He spent his working hours at the construction sites where he assisted the temporary contractors in return for bags of rice, grain and other food items. Everyone knew him as a well-educated dasa, or commoner, reduced to poverty through past circumstances. Sulochana, his widowed younger sister, and Satya, his late brother’s daughter, were his only remaining family.

“I’ve been worried about this for a while now,” he said in a low voice, choosing his words with care. “We discussed it before. Senapati Veerata has not given up searching for Princess Amodini. He probably has spies everywhere. Everyone knows our family came here from Amritambu after the war. What if he figures out the truth? We can’t take any chances. You must not meet him alone under any circumstances.”

As much as she wanted to deny it, Satya knew her uncle was right. 

Three years ago, on Padmapani’s orders, Veerata, the great general of Satayu and his army, conquered the ancient kingdom of Amritambu. To avoid being captured, Princess Amodini of Amritambu escaped in secret along with her trusted maid, Sulochana, and her personal guard, Madhava. 

By some strange turn of fate, they reached Satayu and settled in Satvikshila under disguise. In her new identity, she became known as Satya, a scholarship student at the university. A chance meeting brought her face to face with the young general at the mayor’s palace in town. However, he failed to recognize the princess he was searching for all this time. When she cured his old battle wound using her secret magic, he sought her aid in treating Anjalika and took all three of them to the capital city. 

It was a miracle that neither Veerata nor Padmapani had discovered their secret. But would their luck last forever?

“I won’t be meeting Senapati alone.” Satya tried to convince her uncle. “The senior scribe will be there with me.”

He smiled again. “It can’t hurt to be careful.”

“Are you saying that Senapati Veerata visits me at the university because he’s looking for evidence to arrest us?”

“Satya, he doesn’t need evidence. In this kingdom, he is nothing less than a lawmaker. If he suspects us—if he knows even a part of the truth—, he will arrest us right away. We can only hope he knows nothing.”