The moment the light of Indra fell upon the clay, the entire chamber began to quake. Aru dropped the horse.
Had it really been made of clay, it would have exploded into shards.
But it didn’t.
On the contrary, it began togrow. And not just the horse, butallthe animals.
Aru scuttled backward. The ball in her hand glowed so bright she couldn’t make out the books anymore. Light burst around her.
The hubbub of theBsection faded and was replaced by new sounds: the rustling of wings; the clop of hooves on the floor; the chuffing of a tiger. Even the hiss of a snake.
Aru blinked, her eyes adjusting.
Standing before her were the stolen mounts of the gods. Sothat’swhat the Sleeper was carrying the whole time. How could he leave it behind—?
Oh, thought Aru.
The magical headband from Summer that Mini had thrown at him.Whoever wears this will forget something important. Welp. It had definitely worked. As soon as they were out of his sight, the Sleeper had forgotten all about the precious mounts.
There was a beautiful burnished orange tiger. A stately peacock that trailed jewels. A stunningly white owl. But the creature that stole her breath was none other than the seven-headed horse. It trotted toward Aru, all of its heads lowering at once.
“Thank you, daughter of Indra,” said the horse, speaking from all seven of its mouths in seven melodious voices. “You have freed us from imprisonment.”
One by one, the mounts walked forward. The tiger nuzzled her hand. The peacock nipped her fingers affectionately. The owl lowered its head.
“Merely call for us, and we will come to your aid, Pandava,” said the owl.
They took off, leaping and flying and trotting into the air, until only the horse was left.
“You have somewhere to be, don’t you?” asked the horse.
Aru looked down at the waves on her knuckles and nodded. The third key—the sip of old age—was still out there.
“I shall take you,” said the horse. “None can move faster than I, for I move at the speed of thought.”
Aru had never ridden a horse. Unless you counted sitting on a rainbow-colored unicorn while revolving on a carousel and yellingGiddyup!(Which definitely shouldn’t count.) A step stool magically appeared on the left side of the horse. Aru clambered atop it, shoving the ball back into her pocket. She swung her legs over the horse’s broad back.
“Are you ready, daughter of Indra?” it asked.
“Nope,” said Aru. She took a deep breath. “But let’s go anyway.”
I Really…REALLY…Wouldn’t Do That
There are many ways to make an entrance. Aru, who had watched way too many movies, staunchly believed your three best options were:
You could show up like Aragorn in the last Lord of the Rings movie and raise your sword while a bunch of ghosts spilled out behind you.
You could show up like John McClane in every Die Hard movie, screaming “YIPPEE-KI-YAY!” while waving a machine gun.
Or…
You could show up like an actor in every Bollywood movie, with an invisible wind blowing through your hair and everyone suddenly dancing around you.
But after today, she was going to have to change that list. Because honestly? Riding in on a seven-headed horse beatallthose options.
They burst through the Night Bazaar to a flurry of gasps. Shopping carts squealed and scattered. Tents leaped out of the way, tassels wrapping around them like someone hugging themselves after a bad fright. A raksha who had just purchased a snack from a street vendor dropped his food. A smaller raksha cackled, swooped down, and ate it.
They crossed through worlds that had cities filled with monsters, and (she was almost certain) worlds where monsters made cities. She saw a giant scaly creature squish a mountain with its thumb, muttering, “Make a mountain out of a molehill, you say? Ha! How about making a mountainintoa molehill! That’s far more interesting. Yes, yes.”
