“Wait a minute!” I protested. “No one stole it—your moustache is right on your face!” But my heart was starting to gallop. What was the punishment for theft in this place? Jail? Whipping? Being forced to eat gross snack foods? Something worse?
“Don’t believe her!” The little man shook his fist. “She’s a practiced liar! She came to sell me her rakkhosh-slaying invention!”
“I didn’t!” I protested. “I wanted to see your invention!”
“You see? A liar through and through! First she tells me she doesn’t like vinegar and chili chips and now that my moustache is on my face!”
“You don’t like vinegar and chili chips?” The constable took a step toward me. I put my hands up, and tried to back away, but the people behind me pushed me forward.
“Look!” a shrill voice piped up from the crowd. It was a round-eyed boy in too-big clothes, and he pointed at the shopkeeper. “His moustache is on his face!”
It was like a miracle.
The shopkeeper touched his considerable facial hair. “So it is! She must have snuck it back when I wasn’t looking!”
The police constable frowned. “Consider this a warning, young lady! Moustache theft is a serious crime!”
Mr. Madan Mohan, Esquire, was making witchy fingers in my direction, but I ignored him, and eventually he started back for his shop. He placed the bag of chips at the end of the fishing line and once again chased it until he was out of sight.
The crowd that had formed around me began to thin. I took a deep breath, willing my heart to calm down. That was a close one.
Someone tugged at my elbow. “You are wanting something to help you fight a rakkhosh?” It was the boy with the big eyes. Just like his eyes swam in his face, his slim body swam in someone else’s enormous shirt and pants. “Come into my father’s shop, please.”
He led me to a stall filled with weapons of every variety. There were rows of glittering swords, their handles inlaid with scrollwork and precious jewels. I picked up one, but it was so heavy it practically bent my wrist all the way back. Remembering how hard it was to control Prince Lal’s weapon, I returned it to the rack.
“What are these?” I pointed to a glass shelf full of bottles and powders.
“Hot oil for pouring in a demon’s ear,” the boy explained. “Snuff for making it sneeze. A tack to put on a sitting chair. Tricky chewing gum to glue its jaws together.”
I didn’t want to ever again get close enough to a rakkhosh to pour oil in its ear or put a tack on its chair. And how I was supposed to convince one to chew gum, I wasn’t sure at all.
“What about these?” I ran my hand over a beautiful bow and a set of arrows of light ash. When I pulled it, the string of the bow sang a note pure as a bell.
“Sister, you are knowing to use a bow and arrow?”
I nodded. Archery was something they did teach at school. And despite that unfortunate accident—where I hit Mr. Taylor, the assistant gym teacher, in the thigh with an arrow—I actually loved it. Whenever we were given a choice between sports, I always chose archery. When everyone else was practicing their spikes, lobs, or dribbling, I’d been practicing aiming an arrow at a target. (And trying not to injure any more teachers, no matter how tempting.) The bow and arrows came with a featherlight quiver I slung over my shoulder next to my backpack.
“What are these?” My attention was captured by a pair of cuffs with a swirling snake-shaped design on them. The big white orb in the snake’s mouth made it look like the serpent was trying to swallow the moon. I couldn’t take my eyes off them.
“Those are for protecting an archer’s arms from the bow.” The boy glanced at my arm. Was he staring at my scar? “There is a legend …”
I made a quick gesture I’d perfected from years of being stared at by curious kids. I turned my right side away from him, tugging the T-shirt sleeve down.
“I’ll take them all.”
I was just paying for the weapon and cuffs with some more of Ma’s rupees when a familiar whinny made me turn around.
“Snowy!” I threw my arms around the winged horse’s neck. He chewed on my shoulder, which I took to mean he was glad to see me too.
“Just Kiran, we were so worried!” Lal bowed low. “We are so delighted you are alive!”
I felt all fizzy soda-pop on the inside. It was good to see some familiar faces.
“It took you long enough!” Neel muttered. But underneath his glowering brows, I could see a hint of a smile.
All right, I’d made it past the transit officer, bought a bow and arrows, and finally found my princely tour guides. Time to get this rescue on the road!
It is an excellent weapon,” Lal said, handling my new purchase. “The bow is supple but strong, and these arrows will fly true.”
Lal’s words made the whole warrior-princess thing super real. I might be good at aiming at a target during gym, but would I be able to fight off another real-life demon? If I was honest with myself, the answer was yes. Growing up, I’d always had the feeling there was something special out there, something more, with my name on it. That it would involve battling rakkhosh, I never would have guessed. But still, it was like my heart had been caged up this whole time, and now I had finally set it free to beat as loud and brave as it wanted.
“Those armbands.” Lal touched the snake cuffs on my forearms. Then I saw his eyes widen as he spotted my scar peeking out from under my T-shirt. “Princess, the design—”
But Neel cut him off. “There’s one other thing we’ll need before we go.”
“My parents …” I began.
“We suspect they have been taken to a well of dark energy—the place from where all rakkhosh originate,” said Lal with a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
“Ma said something about the dark and terrible place where spells end,” I remembered aloud.
“They should be safe there for a little while,” Lal continued. “But in the meantime, we must make sure that we are well prepared with all we need.”
I didn’t have time to ask more questions, because Neel was urging us along. He led us toward a dingy little stall all the way at the end of the market. As we approached it, the horses fought their harnesses and stomped their feet. Maybe I was imagining it, but it was as if I could feel the fear coming off their skin in waves.
“I know how you feel, buddy,” I whispered into Snowy’s ear. The animal rolled its eyes back and shed a few feathers in its agitation.
“What is this place?” I asked Lal.
“My brother is determined to make a purchase from Chhaya,” Lal said as he tried to control an increasingly aggressive Midnight, “the purveyor of shadows.”
The shelves lining the walls of the little shop were covered in row after row of bottles. They were large, small, round, slim, some in deep colors of red and blue and green, others in clear glass, still others frothing and bubbling under their lids.
An old woman in a tattered sari stood behind the counter, leaning on a knobby cane.
“Why are you here, my prince?” she hissed. “Surely not for what I am selling!”