what he is able to do with them in his state confounds my imagination. Oh, how I praise the gods that I came to you first!” She studied Ishvari’s face intently in the moonlight, her face melting into admiration. “Many say you are one of the sixty-four yoginis, come to ease the suffering of our people. May I presume to ask your origins?”

The urge to tell Amrita her own incredible story rose fierce. How much more pain, terror, loss and degradation did she, Ishvari, have to speak of? But she would not speak, not for lack of trust, but because burdening Amrita with such information could crack her fragile composure. “I came to this valley as a desperate girl,” Ishvari murmured, “and my spirit has lived here since. Once I too was rabid with hate, but fortunately the gods took p...

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