Fight? One last time? This was all news to Aru. Even the Guardians’ faces turned stiff at his words.
“Right. That,” said Aru. “So, you have to help us.”
“Oh, really?” said Urvashi. Her voice turned devastatingly calm. “If you’re Pandavas, then prove it.”
Hanuman stood up on his throne. “We have never forced anyone to undergo the Claiming before they were ready. The Pandavas were always trained, at least!” He stared down at Aru and Mini. “They’re only children.”
“According to the rules,” said Urvashi, smiling cruelly, “it must be unanimously agreed by the Guardians in residence that we believe they are semidivine. I do not believe. And if they’re only children, they shouldn’t bother.”
Aru was about to speak, but someone else got there first.
“We’ll prove it,” said Mini.
Her hands were clenched into fists beside her. Aru felt a strange burst of pride in the surprisingly brave Mini. But Boo did not seem enthusiastic. He fluttered to his former throne, his face as pinched and solemn as a pigeon could look.
“Let the Claiming commence!” called Urvashi.
The Court of the Sky zoomed back into the shadows. And where the circle of thrones had once surrounded them, now something else did: five gigantic statues. If they weren’t already in the sky, Aru might have guessed that the statues’ heads would have scraped the clouds.
Aru’s heart pounded, her previous burst of confidence gone. “You keep saying ‘claiming,’ but what are we claiming, exactly?”
“Like insurance? Deductions?” pressed Mini. She shrugged off Aru’s bewildered expression. “What? My mom’s a tax attorney.”
“You are not claiming anything,” said Boo. “It is the gods that will do the claiming. Each of the Pandava brothers had a different divine father. You are about to find out who yours is.”
From her mom’s stories, Aru knew that there were five main brothers. The first three—Yudhistira, Arjuna, and Bhima—were the sons of the god of death, the god of the heavens, and the god of the wind, respectively. The twin Pandavas—Nakula and Sahadeva—were born by the blessing of the Ashvins, the twin gods of medicine and sunset. And there was one more: Karna, the secret Pandava, the son of the sun god.
Aru wasn’t sure why they were all called brothers when they didn’t even have the same mom, but maybe it went back to what Boo had talked about—that they didn’t have to be blood-related to be siblings. There was a shared divinity-ness in their souls that was just as good as blood.
Or something like that.
“Wait. So, like, they’re just going to reach out from the heavens, weigh us, and say Yup, that seems like mine?” demanded Aru.
“What about documentation?” shrieked Mini, her voice hitching with panic. “Is this like a conversation, or are there needles involved, like in a paternity test?”
If Boo knew the answers, he had zero interest in sharing. Ignoring their questions, he walked toward one of the giant statues.
“Pranama as I say the gods’ names,” he said.
Pranama was when you touched the feet of your elders. Aru had to do that when she went to the temple and ran into the priest or someone much, much older and well respected.
“I always have to do that when my mom’s parents visit,” whispered Mini. “My grandfather has really hairy feet….”
“What about your dad’s parents?” asked Aru.
“They’re Filipino. My lola only likes her feet touched if I’m giving her a foot rub.”
“Shh!” said Boo.
“How will we know if one of the gods is claiming us?” Aru asked.
“Simple. They’ll choose to keep you alive.”
“WHAT?” cried Mini and Aru at the same time.
The walls of ribbon-lights started flickering.
“Don’t worry,” said Boo airily. “I’ve only been wrong about someone being a Pandava once.”
“So that means that person—”
“Watch out!” screamed Mini, pushing Aru.
The ribbon-lights slowly changed into a bunch of tiny bright spots, like stars. But then they came closer, and Aru saw that they weren’t stars at all.
They were arrow tips.
And they were heading straight for them.
Who’s Your Daddy?
Aru watched a lot of movies. Probably more than was good for her. Not that she cared. According to movies, right about now was when she should be seeing her life flash before her eyes while a bunch of people tearfully screamed, Stay with us! Don’t follow the light!
The arrows grew bigger the closer they got. They cut through the air, and the sound they made was halfway between a wince and a whistle.
Aru’s gaze darted across the empty sky. Forget the rules from a movie. She’d follow anything—even a suspiciously bright light at the end of a tunnel—if it meant getting out of here.
But then the rain of arrows stopped short. It was as if someone had just hit PAUSE.
“Don’t worry,” said Boo. “The arrows won’t actually hit until you’ve paid your respects to the five father gods of the Mahabharata.”
Aru and Mini were crouched and huddled together. Both of them were staring up at the quivering arrows hovering just a couple of feet over their heads. Maybe it was her imagination, but the arrows seemed really annoyed that they had to wait a bit before they got to launch themselves at Aru and Mini.
“Um, great?” said Aru.
“Dharma Raja, we acknowledge you,” said Boo in a deep voice.
The statue of the Dharma Raja, Lord of Justice and Death, loomed above them. He was as gray as ash. Two sharp tusks curled from under his lip. In one hand he held his danda stick, the rod used for punishing souls in the afterlife. In the other, he held the noose he used to rope the souls of the dead. Aru’s breath quickened as she remembered which Pandava was his son: Yudhistira. He was the oldest Pandava brother, and was known for being noble and just and wise.
Aru wasn’t sure she wanted the Dharma Raja to be her dad. Being known for being the wisest and most just? Way too much pressure.
“Pranama!” hissed Boo.
Mini and Aru rushed forward and touched his feet.
“Lord Indra,” said Boo.
The statue of Indra, king of the heavens, was next. His skin was the color of a thunderstorm. In his hand, he held the weapon Vajra, the thunderbolt. There was no way Aru could be the daughter of Indra. His Pandava son was Arjuna the Triumphant. Out of all the Pandava brothers, Arjuna was the most famous. He had the most adventures, and was known for his incredible skill with the bow and arrow. If being wise and just was pressure, imagine being considered the greatest hero out of the entire story.
No thank you, thought Aru.
“Lord Vayu.”
Huh, thought Aru. That wouldn’t be so bad.
Vayu, Lord of the Winds, stirred a slight breeze. He was dark-skinned and looked like the handsome star of a Bollywood film. He held a spinning flag that heralded the directions. His Pandava son was Bhima the Strong. Bhima was known for having a ridiculously large appetite, being superstrong, and also having a temper. All of which Aru thought she could deal with.
“The Ashvins, Nasatya and Dasra.”
Two statues with the heads of horses glowed. They were the gods of sunrise and sunset, and medicine. Their Pandava sons were also twins. Nakula the Beautiful and Sahadeva the Wise.
Definitely would not mind being known for beauty, thought Aru. She still had some misgivings about the whole wisdom thing.
Mini and Aru paid their respects to each. When the final pranama was done, the two of them stood back-to-back within the circle of gods. Above her, Aru heard the impatient hissing of the arrows. They were trembling, not like a leaf that’s about to fall from a branch, but like some sort of rabid beast that’s legitimately trembling with excitement over tearing you apart. Too late, Aru remembered Boo’s “reassurance” that the arrows wouldn’t actually hit them until they had finished their pranama.
They’d definitely finished.
A sharp sound cut the air, as if someone had dropped a handful of sewing needles. An arrow landed near Aru’s foot. Mini screamed.