“Can’t you make an exception?” asked Aru.
“If I could, do you not think I would have helped the heroes who came before you? Bright, shining things they were. Like living stars. I can only do for you what I did for them.”
“And that is…?”
Chitrigupta sighed. He spread out his hands. Two ivory-colored tokens—flat squares with screens, like tiny iPhones—appeared on the table. “I wish there were more, but you two simply haven’tlivedlong enough.”
Aru picked up one of the tokens. She saw little images of herself flashing on its surface. In one she was holding open the door for a young woman carrying a stack of books. In another, she was washing the dishes in the apartment. In the next, she was pulling a blanket over her sleeping mother.
“What are these?” asked Mini.
“Good karma,” said Chitrigupta. “They should allow you to get past at least some of the things buried within these halls. You see, there are many rooms in the Kingdom of Death. Many places you may enter but not exit. All I can tell you is that you must follow the signs and find your own way. The celestial weapons are kept near the Pool of Reincarnation. Right next to the Pool of Reincarnation is where you will find the Pool of the Past.”
“There’s only one way to get to them?” asked Aru. She was thinking about the handy trick Boo had shown them, where all they had to do to go somewhere was reach for a place with intention.
Thinking about Boo made her heart tighten. Was he okay? She hoped he was somewhere safe, blissfully asleep. Deep down, however, she feared that wasn’t the case….
“Oh, I don’t know about that. There are hundreds of ways. Some paved, some pebbled, some pockmarked.”
One of Chitrigupta’s miniature selves hopped onto his shoulder, climbed onto his face, and scratched his nose while he spoke. Aru tried not to let her eyebrows soar up her forehead.
“Even I do not know what you will find in the Halls of Death,” said Chitrigupta. “Things and places move through death differently than humans do. Things that were once real are now mere stories in this kingdom. Forgotten things endure their own death, for they are never reincarnated into something new.”
Forgotten things?
Aru wanted to believe this meant they would find objects like deflated basketballs, mismatched socks, or bobby pins. Or that pen you could have sworn you put into the pocket of your backpack but wasn’t there when you went to look for it. But she knew that was wishful thinking.
Mini was looking beyond both of them to the door behind Chitrigupta. It was made of polished onyx.
“When was the last Claiming?” asked Mini.
“Just before World War II.”
“That can’t be right…” Aru said. “Boo mentioned something about the last Pandava brother being a yoga teacher or something.”
“Oh,him,” said Chitrigupta. He rolled his eyes. “Couldn’t get that man to leave all the other dead people alone! He kept insisting on leading everyone through breathing exercises. Made some people want to die all over again, which is saying something. He was alatentPandava. His divine powers were hidden, even to him, and there were no calamities that forced his inner godhood to awaken. Sometimes you don’t even know how special you might be. Sometimes it takes moments of horror or happiness to, if you will, unleash that knowledge.”
“So the last ones, in World War II…did they make it through the Kingdom of Death and get to the celestial weapons?”
Chitrigupta sighed and leaned back in his chair. Even though he looked like a young man, there was something very old and tired in his eyes. His smile was sad when he said, “We had a war, didn’t we?”
Dare, Disturb, Deign
Chitrigupta refused to send them off without any food.
“I think I might be your uncle,” he said, whizzing about the office. “Or, at the very least, we all share some divine something or other. I do hope you make it back! I never even had a chance to regale you with my stories or essays. Did I tell you about that time I interviewed a snail? You wouldn’t believe how fast he could talk. Downright speedy.”
From a file drawer, he brought out a box of cookies. He opened it and offered one to Mini, who sniffed it.
“Why does this smell like…books?”
“Ah, they’re wisdom cookies! I’ve made these from scratch before. The secret is to allow the books to hit room temperature before mixing them. Cold writing doesn’t sit well in the mind.”
“Uh, sure?”
“Save it for later,” said Chitrigupta, plucking the cookie from Mini’s hand and returning it to the box. His outfit had changed again. Now he was wearing an apron that saidDO NOT KISS THE COOK. YOU HAVE GERMS.“And don’t eat them all at once. That might leave you feeling a little queasy. Or empty.”
“Thanks, Uncle!” said Mini.
