A Time to Change

Chapter Seven

There was a nip in the air and Vasusena shivered slightly. Night was never his favourite time and he preferred the warm fieriness of the sun to the cool serenity of the moon. The cold bothered him more than it did anyone he knew. Padmavathy laughed about it, teasing him mercilessly. So did Bhanumathy, Suyodhana's wife, though how she knew about his aversion to cold was a mystery. Surely, his wife and Bhanumathy did not discuss that. His face heated up at the thought and he hoped women had better things to talk about.

Vasusena sighed. He missed his family. His wife most of all. Padmavathy was who kept him grounded. Her presence was a comfort in trying times. Not that this was a trying time. This was as near to a holiday as a King not related to the hosts of a sacrifice could ever have. He had nothing to do, but to enjoy the amenities and pleasures the city of the Pandavas had to offer.

The search for the child had been a welcome distraction. He had been with Vikarna when they found the boy, and he rather liked the fearlessness in the child. He must have got it from his father. Even though there was never any love lost between them, fear was something one could never accuse Arjuna of.

He frowned as he thought of Bheema's rudeness. The big man's derision and rudeness had not abated one bit. And while it might be in part a siphoning off of his anger for Suyodhana on to his best friend, Vasusena had a feeling there was something more there. Not that it was any of his business. But he wondered if his friend had been completely honest about everything, especially the "only one time". Again, it was none of his business, but he cared for Bhanumathy almost as much as he cared for Suyodhana. And he did not want unresolved conflicts from the past to affect their lives.

He stopped short at the sound of voices, then continued on his way. A grimace was on his face as he had recognized who the voices belonged to. Arjuna and Bheema. Just his luck! Of all the people to be wandering sleepless in this cold night, he had to run into these two.

He was debating whether he should turn into one of the many paths that forked from the main one when he turned a corner and came face to face with the Pandava brothers. He gave them a curt nod and would have passed them if not for a strange sound that arrested his attention. From the sudden stillness that assailed the two brothers, it was evident they heard it too.

It was the sound of a flute, very soft, but unmistakable.