The raksha regarded them with bored black eyes. “Empty your pockets, please. Take off anything remotely enchanted and place it in the bins at your left.”
A couple of crystal baskets floated to the left of them. On the right was a conveyer belt that looked like it was made from molten gold. Straight ahead curved a sparkling archway that reminded Aru of the body scanners at airports.
“If you happen to be carrying a miniature universe, please place it in one of the baskets on the right. If it is unregistered, a Devourer of Worlds will eliminate it. If you would like to make a complaint, don’t bother. And if you are a cursed being or under an enchanted form, please notify me prior to stepping through security.”
Mini was the first to go through. She placed the compact in one of the glass baskets. She was about to walk through when the raksha raised a hand.
“Backpack,” he said.
Mini handed it over. She was sweating and pale-faced. “Whatever’s in there isn’t mine,” she said. “It’s my brother’s.”
“That’s what they all say,” the raksha said, sifting through the contents.
He shook it upside down over the counter. Out spilled a sleeve of Oreos (Aru felt an indignant flare of YOU-HAD-THOSE-THE-WHOLE-TIME? feelings), a first-aid kit, a roll of gauze, a bunch of Boy Scout key chains (which made Aru raise her eyebrow), and the wrapped sprig of youth. The raksha scanned them with his eyes as he listened to someone talking in his earpiece. Then he pressed a small button on the lapel of his jacket and muttered, “Copy that. No sign of the godly mounts.” He swiped the contents back into Mini’s backpack and handed it to her. “Next.”
Boo fluttered to his shoulder and whispered in his ear. The raksha’s eyes widened for a moment.
“Sorry to hear that, mate. That’s some rough luck. You may proceed.”
Boo harrumphed and soared through the gate.
Next was Aru. She put the golden Ping-Pong ball in the basket and stepped forward, only to have the raksha stick out his hand.
“Shoes off as per Otherworld Transportation Security Guidelines.”
She grumbled, took off her shoes, and placed them in a bin. She stepped forward, only to have the raksha stop her. Again.
“Miss, are those your feet?”
“Are you serious?”
“Does this job look like something that encourages humor?”
Aru considered this. “No.”
“Then yes, I’m inquiring as to whether those are, in fact, your feet. You will notice on the board to your left that any removable body parts, yours or otherwise, must be registered as per Otherworld Transportation Security Guidelines.”
“Dude, these are my feet. It’s not like I’m hiding cloven hooves.”
“Why did you specify cloven hooves?”
“It’s just a joke! That’s what we say in Georgia when we don’t like someone! And then we add Bless your heart after!”
The raksha spoke into his lapel again. “Yup. Copy. Potentially small, unregistered demon.” Then, after listening to his earpiece: “Nope. Unthreatening.” He looked at her. “You may pass.”
Aru felt insulted. I can totally be threatening! But now was definitely not the time. She stepped through and glared at the raksha until he handed back her ball.
“Welcome to the Night Bazaar,” he said. “On behalf of the gods and storytellers around the world, we hope you leave with your life intact and your imagination brimming.”
Now that she’d stepped through the archway opening, the Night Bazaar truly unfolded around her. The half-torn sky of day and night glistened. And the smells. Aru wanted to roll around in them forever. It smelled like popcorn dripping with butter, cookie-dough ice cream, and fresh-spun cotton candy. She made her way to Mini and Boo, her head whipping back and forth so fast trying to see everything—the trees that weren’t made of bark at all, but glass; the stores that seemed to literally chase after clientele—that she almost tripped.
“It’s something else,” said Mini, grinning. “And it smells so good. Like a book! Or vanilla!”
Aru was about to ask if Mini’s nose was working right, but Mini kept talking.
“Only my brother has seen this place, but I don’t think he remembers it.”
“Your brother? Why?”
Mini’s face turned as red as a tomato. “They thought he was the Pandava brother…not me.”
“When did they find out it was actually you?”
Mini turned even redder, now looking like a tomato’s mutant cousin.
“Last week?” she said, squeaking on the word week. “Pandavas are supposed to sense danger and sometimes even react to it before they have full control of their abilities. Every time my brother did something that we thought was a miracle, I guess it was actually me doing it, because I was nearby and got scared, too. Last week, our car skidded into a ditch on the side of the road on the way to my brother’s track meet. I must’ve freaked out or something, because I…I lifted the whole car.”
“You what? I wanna do that!”
Mini looked horrified. “Really?”
“Mini, you lifted a car, when you’re so small that I don’t think you even register on—”
“Okay, okay. Geez, I get it.” She sounded annoyed, but Aru could see the small smile lifting up the corners of her mouth.
As impressed as Aru was, she also felt bad. Mini hadn’t been lying when she said the backpack wasn’t hers. It was meant to be her brother’s, when he went off on his quest.
Now Aru understood why Mini was so hesitant about everything. Not once had Mini been taught to think that maybe she was supposed to be the hero.
“Imagine what your family will say when they wake up and realize you saved the world!” said Aru.
Mini beamed.
Boo fluttered to Aru’s shoulder. “Come along. We need to find the Court of the Seasons. I know it’s in here somewhere…” he said.
“And the second key, right?” said Mini.
Aru glanced at the mehndi design on the side of her hand. The symbol for the second key was a book. But there were no bookstalls in sight.
“You move so slowly,” scolded Boo. “And your posture has gotten worse. I don’t know how such things are possible.”
“You’re so grumpy,” said Mini. “Maybe your blood sugar is low.” She fished around in her backpack. “Here, have an Oreo.”
“I don’t want an—”
But Mini broke the cookie into small pieces and shoved a bite into his beak. Boo looked outraged for about five seconds before he finally swallowed it.
“What ambrosia is this?” He smacked his beak. “Gimme more.”
“Say please.”
“No.”
Mini fed him part of an Oreo anyway.
As they made their way into the bazaar, Aru could finally read the three huge signs pointing down the three main paths through the market:
THINGS YOU WANT
THINGS YOU NEED
THINGS YOU DON’T WANT TO NEED
“Well, we need to get our armor and the second key…so the second sign?” Aru guessed.
Boo nodded, and off they went. Around them family clusters streamed toward the three paths. The signs floated above the ground, completely unsupported and shaped like giant ribbons with hanging tassels. The round, scalloped ends of the tassels reminded Aru of cat paws.
As Aru, Mini, and Boo got closer to THINGS YOU NEED, the sign started moving. It skirted around the edges of a shop that sold laptops and computer wiring. They jumped and lunged at the sign, trying to catch it. But the sign kept scooting out of reach. It was dodging them.
“Hey! We’re not playing!” shouted Aru.
But the sign wouldn’t listen. It moved behind a pack of empty grocery carts. The carts swiveled on their wheels in unison, like a herd of antelope. The sign sneezed and the grocery carts scattered off in a huff.
“Why is it making this so difficult?” grumbled Mini. She had almost walked into a family of tortoise-shelled beings.
Boo flapped his wings. “You can’t just ask for things you need. You have to chase them down! Make yourself known as a worthy recipient! I’ll distract it. Then it’s up to you two.”
Boo strutted back and forth in front of the sign, as though he didn’t care about it. The sign gradually lowered itself to the ground. It reminded Aru of the way a cat oozes down from a couch, curious to investigate. Boo walked faster and turned a corner.
The sign bent around to see where he had gone…and Boo jumped out at it.
“GOTCHA!” he shouted.
The sign whirled. It arched like a Halloween cat. When it had its back to Aru and Mini, they crept forward. Aru slunk behind a palm tree, which hissed, “You have no manners, child!” Mini brought out her compact mirror and pulled out an illusion of a candy.
“Heeeeere, sign!” she cooed, waving it around. “Come here, sign! Come here!”
The second the sign turned, Aru ran up and caught it by one of its dangling tassels. Instantly, the sign went limp. It puddled onto the floor, forming a circle. The circle telescoped into a tunnel. Amethyst steps spiraled down into the dark. Boo perched on Aru’s head and looked down the shaft.
“Ladies first.”
That Was So Last Season
No way was Aru going down those stairs first. And Mini looked like she was about to faint.
“Age before beauty,” said Aru, grinning at Boo.
Sherrilyn, her babysitter, liked to say that line whenever the food trucks came to the museum and she wanted to order before Aru. Aru didn’t mind, though. At least it meant someone thought she was pretty. With a pang, Aru realized she hadn’t thought about Sherrilyn since the second she lit the lamp. She hoped she was okay.
Boo grumbled, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he flew into the darkness complaining about the “privilege of youth.” “In my day, we treated our elders with respect!” he huffed.
Aru and Mini walked down the steps. For the first time, Aru felt…hopeful. She wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like she’d done anything heroic beyond trying to save herself.
But she had two companions on her side, and so far, aside from lighting the lamp, she hadn’t made anything worse. Was she a heroine if all she did was fix a mistake she made? Or was it heroic because she was willing to fix it in the first place?
Aru wasn’t sure what to expect ahead. The category THINGS YOU NEED seemed to cover a wide range of possibilities. For example, she needed water, sleep, food, and air.
At the bottom of the staircase, wind rushed past her. But it felt like three different things one after the other. At first, it was a gust of hot desert air that left her throat parched. Then it became the kind of sticky, humid air that felt like summer in the South. Her pajama top clung to her back, damp with sweat. In the next second, frost spangled across her skin and Aru shuddered with cold.
Beside her, Mini inhaled sharply.
Aru looked up, her eyes widening. Here there were no shopping aisles, just forest.
Aru and Mini stood in the center, Boo circling overhead. Around them, the forest was divided into six pieces, like a pie. In one section, frost sleeved the tree branches and icicles dangled like ornaments. In the next, a heavy downpour of rain made the trunks difficult to see. The third section was a riot of blossoms, the rich earth bursting with flowers and perfume. The fourth section was bright and dry, sunlight dappling the leaves. In the fifth, the leaves had turned scarlet and gold. The sixth section was a rich dark green.
“Where are we?” asked Mini.
“It’s like we’re stuck in all the seasons,” said Aru, her voice soft with awe.
“We are,” said Boo. “We’re in the Court of the Ritus. The Six Seasons. Be on guard. They’re brilliant, but horrible.”
Aru’s heart raced. “Why? Do they eat people?”
“Worse,” said Boo, his feathers ruffling. “They’re artists.”
“I thought there were only four seasons?” asked Mini.
“Four?” repeated a voice from somewhere in the trees. “How boring! How bourgeois!”
“I don’t know about that,” said another voice, this time behind Aru. “I could make summer endless. Imagine that. An installation of infinite fire.”
“People would burn up,” said the first voice.
“Good! I don’t like people anyway.”
Figures from two different seasons made their way toward Aru, Mini, and Boo. A pale-skinned man with frosted hair and silver eyes sauntered forward first. He wore a shiny blazer and pants that looked as if they were made of glass. When he came closer, Aru saw that it wasn’t glass, but ice. Fortunately, it wasn’t see-through, but white.
“I’m Winter,” he said coldly. “I’m underwhelmed by your acquaintance.”
“Summer,” said the other, extending a warm hand.
As Summer turned, the light seemed to change the spirit’s facial features from feminine to masculine and back again.
Aru’s confusion must have showed, because Summer shrugged and said, “Hotness doesn’t belong to any one gender.” The spirit winked before flipping their bright gold hair over one shoulder. Summer wore a tunic of flames. Their skin was the color of a smoldering ember, red-veined with fire.
“Why are you here?” Winter asked the girls. “Did that wretched sign bring you? Because we’re not in the mood to design anything. Especially not for random people who haven’t made an appointment. Besides, the inspiration to create just isn’t there, is it?”
“It certainly is not.” Summer sighed. “We only make dresses for the most fabulous of beings.”
They glanced at Aru and Mini, making it clear that they did not consider the girls remotely fabulous.
“You’re…tailors?” asked Mini.
“Did that just call us tailors?” asked Winter, aghast. Winter bent down to Mini’s height. “My little sartorially challenged slip of a girl, we are ateliers. We dress the world itself. I embroider the earth with ice and frost, the most delicate silk in the world.”
“I make the earth the hottest thing out there,” said Summer with a blazing smile.
From the rainy section of the forest, a third figure appeared: a gray-skinned woman whose hair clung damply to her face. She looked soaked to the bone, and delighted about it.
“I am Monsoon. I make the world elegant with a dress of water.”
A fourth walked up. Vines crawled over her skin. There were flowers in her hair. Her mouth was a rose.
“I’m Spring. I dress the earth in jewels,” she said haughtily. “Show me a ruby darker than my roses. Show me a sapphire brighter than my skies. Impossible. Our other two siblings, Autumn and Pre-winter, would join, but they are in the outside world, attending to a number of designing needs. All celebrities need an entourage.” She looked down her nose at the three of them. “But you wouldn’t understand that.”
“Do you always travel in pairs whenever you go into the world?” asked Mini.
“I will ignore the fact that you addressed me directly and will now face the empty space next to you to answer your question,” said Spring.
Aru thought this was a bit much and wanted to roll her eyes, but she controlled the impulse.
“Of course!” said Summer, looking pointedly at the air next to Mini. “One for the incoming season, one for the outgoing. It’s important to keep up with the times. Don’t you know anything about fashion?”
Aru looked down at the Spider-Man pajamas she was still wearing.
“Apparently not,” said Summer drily.
“What do you children want, anyway?” asked Spring, breezily.
“Well, we were hoping you could tell us?” Mini turned redder with each word. “Because, um, we were led here, and um—”
“Um-um-um,” mocked Summer. “You were led here? By a pea-brained foul-looking fowl? I’d believe that.”
“Puns!” said Winter, clapping his hands. “How devastating. How delightful. Chic cruelty never goes out of style.”
“Watch yourself,” warned Boo
.
“Or what? You’ll poop on us?” asked Monsoon.
The four Seasons started laughing. Aru felt as though someone had grabbed her heart in a tight fist. It was the same acidic feeling she got when she was called out for not arriving to a school in a fancy black car. This was just like Arielle and Poppy taunting and jeering, making her think she was small.
But they were wrong. She was Aru Shah. Daughter of Indra. And yeah, maybe she had made an epic mistake, but that didn’t make her any less epic.
Most important: she had a plan.
They needed additional armor to reach the Kingdom of Death safely. Some extra weapons wouldn’t hurt, either. That’s why the sign had led them to the Court of the Seasons. And she wasn’t leaving without what she needed.
Aru grabbed Mini’s hand. Then she squared her shoulders and tossed her hair. “Come on, Mini and Boo,” she said. “I’m sure we can find better.”
Mini shot her a questioning look. Boo cocked his head.
“They’re not good enough,” Aru said, glaring at the Seasons.
Aru started marching through the forest. The Court of the Seasons was the size of a football field, but she could see an EXIT sign glowing in the distance. Even without looking back, she could sense the shocked gazes of the Seasons. She would’ve bet all her pocket money that no one had ever walked away from them.
“Aru, what’re you doing?” hissed Mini. “We need their help!”
“Yeah, but they don’t know that,” said Aru. “Bring out your compact. Conjure us some big sunglasses. And ugly hats. Things celebrities would wear.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” huffed Boo. “I don’t like groveling any more than you do, but this is no time to be proud.”
“Oh, I know what I’m doing.”
Aru knew because she’d dealt with it every day in school, that flare of not knowing where you belonged. That craving to be seen and go unnoticed at the same time.
Mini handed her a hat and sunglasses before jamming on her own pair. Even Boo got a pair of bird shades.
Aru Shah and the End of Time Page 11
