“Does the mother die when she enters the Otherworld?”
I pictured the Dharma Raja,the lord of justice in the Afterlife, riding toward the boy’s mother, swinging his noose to collect her soul and taking her to his bleak kingdom to await reincarnation.
Amar’s lips pressed into a thin line. “No one really dies. Death is just another state of life.”
“What’s the boy’s name?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I said. “Each thread has a color and each color belongs to a person. If I’m going to make such a decision, I don’t want a nameless person on my conscience.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier keep your victim faceless?”
I shuddered. “Not a victim.”
“What else do you call one hemmed in by fate?”
“Human,” I said, bitterness creeping into my voice.
“What about guilt, then? Why open yourself to pain?”
“Guilt is what makes you accountable.”
Amar smiled and I sensed that I had passed some test. “His name is Vikram.” I repeated the name in my head. “You need not make your decisions now. That moment takes practice. But if the time comes and you cannot perform—”
“No,” I said, a little too quickly. This was what I had wanted all these years, hadn’t I? The chance to demonstrate that I was worthy of power? I couldn’t back down now. “I can do it.”
“I never doubted you.”
My anger wilted.
“Last night, I told you I would test you,” said Amar, stretching his hands. “Consider this our first lesson.”
11
A BLOOM OF MARBLE
He walked to the center of the room, his hand hovering over the marble tiles. The space around him shimmered. Enchantment suffused the room. The floor trembled and in the next instant, a dusky pillar shot out from the ground. Its column ended in a delicate marble bud fashioned like an unopened flower bloom. He lay one hand against the bloom of stone, tapping his fingers against it expectantly.
“Ruling Akaran is a strange task. In many ways, it is like balancing an illusion. You must separate the illusion of what you see and the reality of its consequences,” he said. “Tell me, my queen, are you ready to play with fate?”
The light in the room dimmed so that the tapestry’s glittering threads were all but faint shimmers.
“Is that necessary?” I asked, waving my hand around the darkened room.
“You will learn to appreciate the shadows here. Better that you become accustomed to them now. The dark is more than just the absence of light. Think of it as a space for your thoughts.”
“My thoughts prefer sunlit spaces.”
“Then your thoughts need an education,” said Amar. “Allow me to enlighten them.”
He thudded his palm against the stone blossom. With a quiver, the marble petals uncurled. At the center crouched a marble bird. Amar tapped the bird once and it trembled, shaking its wings of stone and turning its head to glare at me. A small chain wrapped around its claws, rooting it to the slab.
“How did you—” I started, stretching a finger toward the animated bird when I felt a sudden heaviness in my arm. I turned to see a long sword in my grip. A flash of cold shot through me.
“Go on,” said Amar, gesturing at the stone bird in a bored voice. “It is a mere illusion of marble. Use your sword.”
“And do what with it?”
