At the end of the hall, dark gray rock reared up to meet us.
“I thought this was supposed to be a feast,” I muttered. “Does he expect us to eat away the shadows?”
“Oh no, dearest. We are far too glutted on such things,” said a silky voice.
The small hairs on my neck rose. Someone in the darkness clapped their hands. Light dripped like blood down the walls, thick and slow. I squinted. This was the kind of light that made you crave the dark. It was lurid and almost bruising, as bright as a sun but empty of warmth.
When the light dimmed, I could finally see what was in front of us: an empty table. At the end of it sat the Lord of Treasures and his consort, the Lady Kauveri. Kubera was the size of a child, with a generous belly, heavy lidded eyes. His smile was graceful. Radiant. But it was the kind of smile that belonged to power. Not joy. You could only smile like that if you possessed the kind of invincibility that let you sharpen your teeth on the world. Warning flared through me. Around his neck curled a golden mongoose. The creature yawned and an opal dropped from its mouth. Beside me, Vikram inhaled sharply. I shot him a look, but his gaze was fixed on the mongoose.
The Lady Kauveri smiled at us. She wore a sari of rushing water, and in her elaborate braids, small streams and pebbles, tortoises and crocodiles no larger than a thumbnail clambered through her hair. No immortal being betrayed any flaw, but there was something restless about her, a kind of anxious energy that belonged to someone expecting tragedy.
“Welcome, contestants,” said Kauveri, sweeping her arm before the feast. “Please. Eat.”
When we sat, a lavish feast appeared on the table. I eyed it suspiciously. There were fragrantbiryaniwith saffron rice, hard-boiled eggs white as moonstones in a thick curry, apple and mint chutneys in glass bowls, globes ofgulab jamundrenched in cardamom syrup and bright orangejalebiscoiled like gold bangles.
All the while Kubera eyed us, his gaze growing wider. He watched intently as we reached for naan, broke it and dipped it into a bowl of curry. I couldn’t afford to give offense. The moment I placed the food in my mouth, Kubera leapt from his throne.
“Finally! Our food has passed your lips! Now that guest and host hospitality has been satisfied, I may finally speak. You had us both so curious. At the edge of our thrones! As I knew you both would—”
“Patience, my love,” cautioned Kauveri.
I exchanged a look with Vikram. What did he mean that we made him curious? Nerves pebbled my arms. The day we escaped Ujijain, I felt the Otherworld reaching for us. Itwantedus. But maybe it wasn’t the Otherworld that had wanted us so badly but Kubera himself. Why? Did he want the other contestants here just as badly or did he intend to use us for some purpose?
Kubera climbed down from his throne and circled us like a merchant examining his goods. He reached for my hand and I extended it with as much grace as I could muster.
Kubera clucked approvingly. He dropped my hand and leaned toward Vikram. “Ah, what a hungering heart you both have. Delightful. I suspect both of you will make excellent storytellers. And king and queen, no doubt. Then again, that depends on which one of you will be allowed to leave. And now you are wondering whether that means one of you will die. Not so! One of you may stay here forever. You could be my new throne. That man—” He glared at his golden throne, which was shaped like a human on all fours. “—has a perpetual lower-back ache and I can’t stand hearing him groan on and on. The other option, of course, is death. Oh, and no. You may not use your wish to grant an exit to the other person.”
I refused to let the shock show on my face. I knew that the invitation ruby was good for two entries only. But, like Vikram, I assumed that winning the Tournament meant both of us could leave. Not one or the other.
“We can’t both return?” asked Vikram.
“Maybe! I don’t know! I make up the rules as I go.” Kubera grinned.
Kauveri rose from her throne and joined her husband in the middle of the room. Wherever she stepped, golden coins fell.
“Speaking of play, you came here to win a wish.”
Kubera’s eyes lit up. “Ah! Yes! Instructions. My apologies.” He laughed. “This is the realm of desire and treasures. And I want to see what you think is treasure. Two trials. One sacrifice. Three things in total. Because three is a very nice number. Exquisitely simple, as are most things that lead you to the greatest happiness or the greatest discontent.”
“Are we competing against the other contestants?”
“No. All the things that make us wish for something impossible are different. As are your trials. Everyone could win a wish. Or no one can. It is what it is.”
“My lord,” I said cautiously, “you mentioned sacrifice. What are we expected to give?”
“Nothing bodily, physical, animal or human.”
“That means he has not decided yet,” said Kauveri, smiling.
“And the details of our trial, my lord?” asked Vikram. “How much time—”
“Time?” Kubera laughed. “What is time in Alaka but a thing that comes and goes as it pleases? When a century wanes, even Time leaps back and forth in glee. The Tournament of Wishes is a place where all stories may renew or reinvent themselves.” Kubera smiled and ice danced along my spine. “We have borrowed a moon for the Tournament to keep track of ‘time.’ It is a new moon tonight and when it is a new moon again, then ‘time’ is up!”
A month. We had a month for two trials and a sacrifice. That wasn’t much, but if time worked differently in Alaka, maybe even that could be manipulated.
“What about in the human world?” asked Vikram.
I hadn’t even thought of that. I couldn’t imagine emerging fresh from victory only to see the ruins of a time that had forgotten us and moved on long ago.
