We Shall Be Monsters, page 15
Kajal leaned over to peer at the drawings. They were quite good: One depicted a craggy mountainside with two indistinct figures lounging on a rock; another was undoubtedly the palace in Malhir; and another showed a landscape of tall, spindly trees above a lake, where a trident floated above its center.
She lingered on the trident, her gaze straying only when Tav laid down the last drawing. It was of a long, lazy stretch of river covered in a riot of lotus flowers.
For some reason, it made her breath catch. At Tav’s sideways glance, she waved a hand before her face.
“Sorry,” she coughed. “Dust.”
He sat on the bed and returned to the drawing. His fingertips followed the river’s gentle, serpentine curve, then reached for the pendant around his neck. That familiar, unspeakable grief made his eyes glisten, and Kajal had to look away.
“He was talented,” she said.
“Yes,” he murmured. “But these don’t tell us what happened. I—”
As he stood, his eyes suddenly rolled to the back of his head, and his body crumpled to the floor.
“Tav!” Kajal knelt and rolled him over. He was already stirring with a groan, eyelids fluttering. She grabbed his arm and pressed two fingers to his wrist, counting the rhythm of his pulse. Then she pressed her ear to his chest to hear his heartbeat.
“Hawthorn or chickweed,” she muttered with a snap of her fingers. “I knew I should have included one of those.”
She jumped to her feet and was halfway across the room when he weakly called, “Where are you going?”
“What? Oh.” Kajal looked between him and Kutaa. “You keep searching. I’ll return soon.”
He propped himself on an elbow. “No. You promised me one full day.”
Kajal put a hand on her hip. “The rebels told me that if I made one mistake, they’d turn me over to the Vadhia.” She was so practiced at lying that her body’s only reaction was to accelerate her pulse a little. “Your circulation is completely off. You just fainted. I can’t have you dropping dead again before the rebels even see you.”
He sat up against the wall and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I want to work with these people if they’re willing to do such a thing.”
“Unfortunately, the family that backs them has the money you need to raise an army against Bakshi.”
“Which family?”
“The Sodhis.”
“They sound familiar…” He frowned. “I still don’t like this.”
“I get the feeling you don’t like much of anything. Regardless, I’ll need to gather some things to fix your circulation, and you need proper clothes and food. You are hungry, yes?” His stomach rumbled again, right on cue. “That’s what I thought. Kutaa, bite him if he tries to run.”
She hurried out the door before he could argue further.
Chapter Fourteen
Kajal slipped out of the old palace and into the Elephant Court, her mind foggy with element ratios and measurements for improved blood flow. Maybe if she—
“What are you doing?”
The voice pierced through her like a fishhook. The only time she’d heard it was in the dead of night, and it had made her want to drop everything and flee. She felt much the same now as the Vadhia soldier, Jagvir, paused on his way to the commissary to give her an impolite once-over.
She was bombarded with a muddle of sensation: cool glass under her fingers, the crack of leather, the smell of blood and blight.
“I…Walk,” she mumbled, keeping her head down. “To stretch my legs.”
“This early in the morning?” He took in her windblown hair and her dirt-strained trousers. His eyes were cutting and curious, like he was trying to put some thought together. “Where’s that filthy scavenger of yours?”
In her mind she was strangling him, crushing his larynx with her thumbs. “S-Still asleep. Lazy.”
He spent another long, intolerable moment staring at her. Kajal’s hand drifted toward her scalpel.
“There you are.”
An arm was slung around her shoulders. Kajal jumped and nearly stabbed Dalbir between the ribs.
“I went to Professor Jassi’s flat to get you for breakfast, but she said you’d already gone to the commissary,” Dalbir went on. Their tone was casual, their smile unfazed as they turned it on Jagvir. “I hear they have egg bhurji parathas. You should get them while they’re fresh.”
Jagvir lingered a second more, then exhaled a scoff before leaving.
Kajal leaned against the nearest sandstone wall. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it would turn to pulp. She caught a flutter of white and shut her eyes tight, humming Lotus Blossom until she calmed down.
“You all right?”
She opened her eyes. Dalbir stood before her with a vaguely concerned expression.
“I don’t like the Vadhia,” she muttered.
“Shocking. No one does.” They crossed their arms. “Professor Jassi couldn’t find you this morning and was worried.”
“I wanted to stretch my legs.”
“So I overheard.” They arched one eyebrow. “What happened to those clothes you so rudely woke me for?”
“Uh…I was going to change into them after my walk.” She decided a change in subject was in order. “Don’t you have an exam today?”
“Not until this afternoon. And no, you cannot come with me.”
“I wasn’t planning on it. I’m going to wander the university grounds, see if I can find some ingredients for…for the experiment.”
“I’ll go with you. Show you around, make sure you don’t get lost.”
Kajal swallowed her immediate no. Despite their reactions to her antics on her first day, Dalbir didn’t seem to hold it against her. And they had gotten rid of that soldier.
“Only if you know where I can find hawthorn or chickweed,” she conceded.
Dalbir rubbed their chin. “Farmers sometimes plant hawthorn trees on their property for good luck, and to drive off wandering rakshasas. There’s plenty of farms around, and I’m sure I’ve seen hawthorn trees north of the lake. You might also be able to find chickweed in the gardens.”
“Then I’ll look there.”
The university was gradually stirring to life, a handful of groggy professors and yawning students on their way to breakfast or morning classes. The rising sun was already baking the paving stones, warming her tense shoulders.
“There’s been talk about you, you know,” Dalbir said after a passing student stared at Kajal.
“What sort of talk?” she asked warily.
“About your run-in with Vritika.” Their septum piercing glinted above a grimace. “About how you refused to apologize, as if you were some foreign princess. Riddhi’s been saying all sorts of nasty stuff too.”
Kajal bristled. “What’s her issue with me, anyway?”
“Rumor is that her and Siddhi’s older brother was seduced by a dakini, and he ended up throwing himself off a cliff when the girl broke his heart. They come from a superstitious family and think he was bewitched. Now she’s quick to point fingers at anyone who seems…” They paused with a pointed glance at her. “Off.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“That’s superstition. It’s even more of a scandal considering who you’re pretending to be.” Their tone was far too smug for her liking. “I want it on record that I did warn you not to get on Vritika’s bad side. The professors and students all adore her.”
Kajal snorted. “I can’t see why, other than that she’s a Meghani.”
“She’s smart, and she assists the professors all the time. And she doesn’t talk back.”
“Right. She has her lackeys do that for her.” Kajal peered at them sidelong. “You really care about what people think, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. Isn’t that natural? Besides,” they said bitterly, “I have to behave.”
The two of them walked through the open gates, their position on the promontory affording them a view of Suraj below. Smoke rose from long chimneys among the shimmering metallic roofs of temples. A long, wide thoroughfare broke the city into two sections, like opposite banks of a river. It seemed impossible that she and Tav had just been sitting on a hill looking at the same view.
Past the neem and teak trees were verdant gardens that gave way to a wide meadow. Beyond were rows of wheat that belonged to the local farms, and far to the north of that lay a stretch of rice paddies.
She couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to all this growth if the blight came to Suraj. If they found Advaith’s body and restored him as the asura, would the princes’ powers be enough to stop it? Would their claim of legitimacy be enough to dethrone Bakshi?
That’s not your problem, she reminded herself. Focus on Lasya. Just one more day, and the bargain will be fulfilled.
“Thanks for the excuse to get out, by the way.” Dalbir’s voice wedged into her thoughts. “I’ve only been here a month or so, and I’ve been too busy with coursework to explore.”
“I thought you said you’d show me around?”
“I didn’t say I’d be particularly good at it.”
Kajal suppressed a laugh. She wasn’t here to make friends or allies. She’d never had them before, and she didn’t see the point in having them now.
Still, her inquisitiveness got the better of her. “Why do you want to be a lorist?”
Dalbir tucked their hands into their pockets as they made their way down the path. “Growing up, my tutors taught me things like philosophy and astronomy and herbology. But what I really love is myth, and how it’s helped shape our society and beliefs—even our medicinal practices.”
Dalbir had had the luxury of tutors, while she and Lasya had fought to get even one book to read. She made a note to search Dalbir’s room later, in case there were any valuables they’d brought from home she could sell.
“Take the asura and deva, for example,” they went on. “I find them fascinating.”
Kajal caught herself before she stumbled. “What? Why?”
“There’s so much mystery surrounding them! It’s like what Professor Manraj said: They’re somewhere between historical and mythical figures, and we’re not sure what the exact truth is. Some would argue the lack of evidence is the basis for belief, while others need that evidence to better understand.”
Kajal thought of the very real deva sitting in the dusty quarters of the old palace. “And what do you think?”
Dalbir grinned, exuding the same manic energy Kajal got when she was in the middle of an experiment. “What I think doesn’t matter, because even if they only exist in the form of story, they still exist.”
Kajal prudently remained silent. She didn’t know how to tell them she was one for evidence, not belief. And, yakshas preserve her, what evidence she had.
“In fact, that’s going to be my focus of study,” Dalbir went on. “I want to write a book about them.”
“About what, exactly?”
“Don’t know yet. But that’s one of the beautiful things about myths: They often don’t relay something that actually happened. Rather, they give an impression of the time period in which they were made, and reflect the morals and beliefs of those who made them. Take, for instance, the myth of the yaksha deities ordering the deva to carry a single drop of water and to care for it no matter what. But the deva sees an animal dying of thirst and gives it the drop of water, which pleases the yaksha deities. It’s just a lesson to be kind to animals, or those who are helpless.”
Kajal wasn’t sure if that was the lesson she’d take from it, but she nodded regardless.
“Anyway, when I heard about the university, I decided to visit and see if it was a good fit for me. But I’m the Sodhis’ third child.” Dalbir’s smile soured. “They want me to be invested in their schemes like my siblings are, so I had to agree to spy on professors who are loyal to Bakshi.” They let out an overdramatic sigh. “The things I do for knowledge.”
“Tell me about it. I couldn’t afford this place on my own.”
“You have no family to support you?”
Kajal was impressed they could so bluntly ask a question most people would politely dance around. “Ah…no. I’m on my own.”
“I’m envious.”
“You’re envious of me? You grew up in some lavish mansion while I’ve had to travel from place to place to get by.”
“And it sounds incredible. Think of all the experiences you’ve had! The types of people you’ve met! All the things you must have learned!” Dalbir’s hand fluttered through the air to take in the land around them. “Meanwhile, I got my kicks reading about adventures instead of having one. My parents would have a fit if I strayed more than half a mile from the estate. This is the farthest from home I’ve been.”
Kajal barely resisted the urge to trip them. “Trust me, scrounging for money and food is not romantic. Nor is performing ordeals when the townspeople decide you’re a little too strange for their liking.”
“Well, now you have to tell me more. Did you ever run into rakshasas? What are villages like? How many ordeals have you been given?”
Kajal indulged their curiosity with only the barest details until they reached the base of the promontory and followed a stone path to the sprawling gardens. Bright-red shrubs melded into a geometric hedge pattern, and plots of colorful flowers waved gently in the wind, visited by fat bumblebees.
Dalbir’s attention was stolen away by a plot of roped-off land reserved for experimental gardening. Kajal recognized a variety of Ayurvedic herbs, but there was no chickweed.
Remembering the farms, she left Dalbir to ponder some vines crawling over starter trellises and kept walking north, heading toward the wheat fields. A flare of victory rose in her at the sight of a hawthorn tree standing near the bank of a glittering lake, its leaves silvery green, its branches starting to sprout pink blossoms. Between the blossoms and leaves were the small red haws she needed.
She eagerly plucked them off and stuffed them into her pockets. She would grind them into a paste and have Tav consume it while she focused on his heart chakra. Then he’d be fit for an audience with the rebels.
The sudden disappearance of birdsong preceded the sound of rippling water. She froze, fingers pinched around another haw, straining to hear a sound in the ensuing silence. A moment later, the grass rustled. Her hand spasmed and the haw burst between her fingers, staining her skin red.
The breeze carried a whispering laugh to her ears.
“Little girl, what do you have there?”
A lithe figure rounded the tree, its movements sinuous. First came the sleek and beautiful face of a young woman, her hair dark and straight, falling past slim shoulders and bare arms dripping water. Her torso was wrapped in a leather bodice that hugged the curves of her waist.
But from that waist down, the young woman’s features were those of a large, muscular snake.
Kajal stayed perfectly still as the nagi slithered toward her, keeping to the shade of the hawthorn tree. The nagi’s eyes were black and lit with amusement, and there was a green undertone to her gray skin. The scales along her bottom half winked here and there where sunlight peeked through the branches.
When she got too close, Kajal lifted the hand stained with haw juice. “Stay back.”
The nagi grinned, showing off sharp teeth. “So afraid. I won’t hurt you.”
Kajal licked her dry lips. The nagas were a demon race from Patala, the only ones who could travel between the planes through bodies of water. They were generally not considered malevolent; in fact, there were stories of nagas assisting the yakshas in eras long past.
But that didn’t change the fact that they were venomous and bore fearsome strength. That even among the most peaceful were those prone to violence.
“What do you want?” Kajal demanded.
“Mm, nothing, nothing.” The nagi slithered around to her other side, leaning in to sniff her. Kajal extended her stained hand, and the nagi leaned away with a sibilant laugh. “Is it not enough to be curious?”
“You shouldn’t be here. Return to your home.”
The nagi breathed in sharply. Then her tail curled around Kajal’s feet, not quite touching. “What an interesting thing for you to say.”
Sweat formed on Kajal’s nape. She tried to take a step backward but nearly tripped over the nagi’s tail. She glanced toward the gardens, but there was no sign of Dalbir.
The nagi sniffed her again. Her nose was flatter than a human’s, the nostrils barely more than slits. “Oh, little girl, such darkness on you.” Her teasing expression was gone, replaced with an even more distressing somberness. “It smells like death.”
Kajal screwed her eyes shut as her breathing stuttered.
“Do you really think it’ll work?” Lasya asked, crouching before the notes Kajal had written in the dirt.
“It will,” Kajal insisted, indignant that Lasya, of all people, might be doubting her. “It has to.”
Lasya hugged her arms around her knees. “This is dangerous, behan. You could get hurt if you strain yourself too much.”
“I can handle it,” Kajal said. “I can do anything, remember?”
A flash of light, dozens of hands clawing at the ground, Lasya’s scream, the thundering crack of stone.
“Kajal?” Dalbir’s distant call wrenched her back to the present.
“Wait there!” Kajal cried.
The nagi came in close, putting her face right up to Kajal’s. The haw juice that stained her shaking hand would burn the nagi if she pressed it to her flesh, but Kajal made no move to do so.
“You tell me to return home,” the nagi whispered in Kajal’s ear, stirring the hairs that fell against her cheek. “You should listen to your own advice.”
