“It’s just an excuse!” Aunt Sulochana grumbled while she helped Satya clean up the store the next evening. “Inspection? My foot! He just needs some excuse to come here and stare at you like he did at the office yesterday. Does he think we know nothing?”

Frustrated, she swept the floor of the consulting room and dispensary with renewed vigour. Despite being short and overweight, the old woman appeared active and elegant at the same time. Wearing a plain bluish-grey sari and white bodice did little to hide her grace and dignity from twenty years of being the head maid at Amritam palace. 

Her snowy white hair, turned up in a tight chignon on the top of her head, made her look closer in age to Uncle Madhava, although she was at least ten years younger. A constant frown knit her eyebrows together over her dark eyes. The thought of her niece seeing the young general again so soon made it worse. 

“Aunt Sulochana,” Satya pleaded, “please be careful what you say.”

“Senapati or no, I would really like to give him a piece of my mind.”

Satya kept silent. She shared her aunt’s uneasiness, but knew it was futile to dwell on it. The great general of Satayu would be here soon for the scheduled inspection of the store. Getting the place tidied and ready of inspection took priority. 

Sitting on a straw floor mat behind her writing desk, she dusted the medicine shelves to her right while listening to her aunt’s incessant grumbling. Various glass pill bottles and ceramic tincture pots littered the parallel wooden racks. A red, cloth-bound ledger of papyrus sheets stood closed on the writing desk. It contained detailed records of all her patients, their ailments, her diagnosis, and the remedies she administered to them.

Having finished cleaning, she surveyed the room to her satisfaction. Another straw floor mat, meant for patients, occupied the floor on the other side of her desk. A row of similar mattresses lined the opposite wall, where patients could squat and wait their turn. 

The store was a modest little two-storeyed wooden structure, sitting in the market square between a large children’s playground on one side, and a common plant nursery on the other. Rumour had it the place used to be a guest-house for visiting faculty in the university’s founding days. Both the playground and the nursery had been a part of the building itself until sold off as separate entities. 

At half-past six every evening, the sunset gong tolled the start of the first quarter of the night. Satya opened up the store to a queue of patients with the usual cases of common cold or skin rashes or indigestion. She welcomed everyone, glad to be kept busy until closing time two hours later. 

Keeping to her studies and her work was paramount to all else. While attending to the cases, she enjoyed listening to the children’s happy, shrill voices as they tramped about the playground outside. Sometimes, her neighbour, the florist woman, came in to chat about the day’s events. 

Occasionally, a patient with an injured limb or a heart condition or a relapsing illness showed up. As per her teacher’s instructions, she wrote them a preliminary diagnosis and sent them to the university hospital for proper treatment. 

Today, for the first time, the store was closed on account of the scheduled inspection. The playground also seemed deserted, since Veerata’s personal guards had stationed themselves around the market square before his arrival. Their presence created a strained silence among the vendors and visitors alike, echoing their leader’s powerful influence. 

His stares had not fazed her yesterday. Whenever he visited her at the university, she was aware of his undisguised adoration, though she feigned ignorance and treated him as a patient. Assured that Veerata had not killed her beloved sister, Nandini, she had long since given up trying to avoid him. 

Uncle Madhava’s concern was justified. The young general might figure out her true identity if she wasn’t careful. But while she lived her new life, she would remain steadfast to her true purpose. 

Rather than fear of recognition, the royal grant distressed her. She wanted none of it. Did Veerata think she was being generous because she used the reward money to dispense free medicine? He was completely mistaken. She hated Samrat Padmapani and still blamed him for Nandini’s death. Accepting the royal grant made her feel like she was betraying her sister’s memory. 

A step on the staircase leading to the upper floor made her look up from her work. Uncle Madhava came climbing down the stairs. 

“Satya, I’ve finished my work upstairs,” he said. 

“Did you change the nails on the window bars?” she asked.

“Yes, I hammered some into the wooden frame as well,” he nodded. “And I found a couple of cracks in the walls. I’ve boarded them up with mud plaster for now. I’ll need to get some adamantine glue and sand to fix them properly later. Now, I need to get to work soon. Will you two be alright without me?”

Satya nodded. “We’re almost done cleaning. There’s nothing to do but wait for Senapati to arrive.”