Vasudeva had smiled grimly. “I believe this man, because neither fame nor riches could have lured away the sage I knew. And mistress, I beg you to strictly keep my confidences—there is a gold price on Kharanshu’s head.”

“Kharanshu?” she called out now.

He turned to her with a quizzical smile. “And who are you?” he asked.

“Ishvari, ex-High Tantrika of Melukhha, and now a fugitive like you.”

A smile flickered on his interesting face. “So I thought…but how did you recognize me?”

Ishvari shrugged. “My gardener in Melukhha spoke highly of you. Once, long ago, you guided him in the art of inner investigation. Not many would fit his glowing description of you.”

Kharanshu laughed. “Ah! Of course I rem...

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