I’m on my feet and running before I hear another word. I don’t even bother with the trail; I just scramble up the mountain, underbrush cutting into my calves and branches scratching my cheeks. The musky smell grows stronger the higher I climb, and I follow my nose all the way to the mouth of a cave. The reptilian stench curls from the opening and I clap my hand over my nose and mouth, but it’s too late. I fall to my knees and retch until my stomach is empty and then stand up and wipe my mouth on the back of my sleeve. I can hear the soldiers behind me, racing up the trail. I pull the dagger from my bag and tuck it into my waistband. I will kill any one of them who tries to stop me.
The cave opening is small and I have to stoop to get inside. Huge rocks litter the path and I carefully pick my way across them. The farther I get into the cave, the more the ceiling slopes downward. Eventually the only way through is on my hands and knees. Sharp stones cut into my palms and tear through my pants. I can hear the sound of water rushing somewhere beneath me and fear claws at my insides. Am I in the wrong cave? The musky smell has nearly vanished, and I don’t know if my nose has adjusted or if the odor really is gone. The cave is so dark I can’t even see my hands in front of me.
A spray of rocks tumbles past. It must be the soldiers, though they will have to enter the cave one at a time. But now I don’t know if they are chasing me or the Naga. I crawl faster. I can feel blood trickling from my palms. After what seems like an eternity, the path beneath me starts to smooth out and becomes moist and slippery. I reach a hand above me and find only air, so I try standing. The cave has finally opened up and now I can walk upright without bumping against the ceiling. I trail the fingers of one hand along the wall and hold the other hand out for balance. The sound of rushing grows louder and I feel a stab of worry that I’m about to walk headlong into swiftly moving water.
Finally I see light ahead and I speed up, moving as fast as I dare, keeping my fingers on the wall to steady me. As I get closer to the light, the sound grows too, reverberating off the walls and filling the cave. With a start I realize it isn’t water.
It’s chanting.
I hurry forward and step into a cavernous space with a soaring ceiling. Hundreds of candles are scattered throughout the room, casting flickering shadows on the walls of the cave. I take a step back so I can survey the area without being seen, so I can search for Mani. The Naga—perhaps twenty of them—sit in a semicircle, holding hands and chanting words I don’t understand. They are wearing hooded cloaks made to look like snake scales—copper-colored and gleaming in the candlelight. A shiver races up my spine. It’s impossible to see their faces, but none of them is small enough to be Mani. My eyes scan the room again and it’s all I can do not to cry out his name.
And then I see him.
In the center of the semicircle is a stone altar. Mani sits on top, his hands and feet bound, fat tears crawling down his cheeks. I launch myself toward him, trampling over one of the Naga to make my way into the circle. The chanting dies away and the room breaks into confusion. I’m almost there. Mani sees me and relief floods his face, which only makes him cry harder. I get to him and pull on the rope tied around his wrists. I’ve almost got it loose when an arm circles my waist and drags me away from the altar. Mani screams, and it echoes through the cavern.
“Marinda, stop this instant.” Gopal’s lips are against my ear. I stop for a moment, and then when he relaxes his grip, I elbow him hard in the stomach. He lets go and I race toward Mani again, but I’m too slow. Gopal wrenches my arm so hard I’m afraid he’s broken it. I cry out and stop struggling.
“That’s a good girl,” Gopal whispers. And then he raises his voice and addresses the group. “My apologies,” he says. “This is our visha kanya and she’s feeling a little feisty today.” A few nervous laughs come from the circle. “I’m afraid she’s gotten rather fond of our sacrifice and now thinks she can keep it,” he says, and then squeezes both of my shoulders affectionately. “Entirely my fault. I’ve pampered her a little too much.”
Rage flies through me. I try to kick Gopal, but he twists my arm again and pain shoots from my wrist to my shoulder. Where are the Raja’s soldiers? Why aren’t they here apprehending the Naga? The others in the circle start to whisper to each other, and for a moment I have some hope that they might oppose Gopal, that they might let Mani and me go. But then Gopal clears his throat, and the cavern falls silent except for Mani’s sobbing.
“Have no doubt,” he says loudly, “that our dear Marinda will behave herself once the sacrifice is finished.”
“Don’t you dare touch him!”
“Silly girl. He was nothing but an experiment. Unfortunately, he can’t hold his poison as well as you can, my dear.” Gopal must see the horror on my face, because he laughs. “We had hoped to have someone the Naga could count on to kill our female enemies, but alas, the boys all seem to die eventually.”
I flail around, but I can’t seem to land a blow. Gopal just holds me tighter and whispers in my ear—Shh, shh—like I’m a baby who needs comforting.
“This child is the last thing keeping Marinda from being fully in our midst,” he tells the Naga. “Once he is gone, she will embrace us as family.”