“And you don’t want to get dehydrated or—”
“You could die!” said Mini and Chitrigupta at the same time.
They looked at each other with an expression that so clearly saidWe must be related!that Aru wanted to knock her forehead against the door. Repeatedly.
“Yeah, thanks, Uncle,” said Aru.
Chitrigupta patted both of them on the head, and handed them two small thimblefuls of a bright orange liquid. It looked like a captured flame.
So much for not being dehydrated. This couldn’t even be called a full sip. But Aru swallowed it dutifully.
A warm glow spread through her bones. Her throat no longer felt dusty. Between the sip of whatever this was, and one of the fancy Spring petit fours from the Court of the Seasons, Aru felt clearheaded and sharp-eyed.
“The dead have a tendency to leave us parched and tired. Watered-downsomaalways does the trick.”
“Soma?”repeated Mini. “As in the drink of the gods?”
“Yes, which is why it needs to be watered down. Undiluted, it can be deadly. Even to demigods.”
“Too bad it can’t make us immortal,” said Aru. “Then we’d definitely get through the Halls of Death alive.”
Chitrigupta eyed her shrewdly. “You must be the daughter of Indra.”
Aru raised her eyebrows. “What makes you say that?”
“Did you know that Indra’s Pandava son, Arjuna, was one of the greatest warriors who ever lived?”
Defensiveness prickled through Aru. “Just because Arjuna was an amazing warrior and we have the same soul doesn’t actually mean that I’m a great warrior, too, you know.”
“Aru!” hissed Mini.
“Sorry,” she bit out.
But she wasn’t, and she was sure Chitrigupta knew. He didn’t get mad, though. Instead, he smiled.
“What made Arjuna great wasn’t his strength or his valor, but the way he chose to see the world around him. He looked around, questioned, and doubted. You, too, are perceptive, Aru Shah. What you do with those perceptions is up to you.”
The hairs on Aru’s arm lifted. For a moment, she thought of the giant library in the Night Bazaar, and the book with her name on it. Maybe her imagination wasn’t just something that would keep landing her in trouble. Maybe it could actually help her save people.
Chitrigupta looked away from her and clapped twice. “All right, then, off you go!”
Mini and Aru reached for the door at the same time that Chitrigupta called out, “Wait!”
“Whaaaaat?”asked Aru.
It wasn’t that she was particularly anxious to embark on a journey of near-certain doom, but there was always “just one more thing!” when it came to Indian aunties and uncles. She experienced this whenever her mother dragged her to parties. The relatives would start saying good-bye in the living room, then spend another hour saying good-bye at the door. It was inevitably how they spent half the visit.
If they didn’t leavenow, they were probablynevergoing to leave.
“Just this,” said Chitrigupta. He held out his hand. A slim ballpoint pen lay in his palm.
“What does it do?” asked Mini.
“What do you think it does?” asked Chitrigupta. “It’s a pen! It writes!”
“Oh. Thanks?” said Mini.
“Don’t mention it. I cannot help you in defeating the Sleeper, but perhaps this will come in handy at some point. Wherever you are and whatever you write on, I will get the message. And if it is within my means…I will answer.”
