The Library of Fates

by Aditi Khorana

  I thought about Sikander, realizing that it wasn’t the first time this very land was in crisis. “Except we don’t have Maya the Diviner to help us this time,” I said wistfully.

  “But we do.” Varun turned to me. He grinned that alluring grin and watched me carefully. “It’s a very special place. You’ll understand when you get there,” he said.

  I paused, struck by the similarity of his words and Meena’s. But before I could question him, I heard a thud and looked ahead of me.

  Her hissed whisper cut through the ambient sounds around us. “I can’t,” it said, and there was Thala, crumpled into a ball on the earth.

  Seventeen

  I RAN TO HER, collapsing to the ground next to her. “Thala! Thala, are you all right?”

  I reached for the skin of water, handed it to her, but she could barely lift her head. I tilted her face back to look at her. She had a smile across her lips, but her eyes were closed. “Feeling so strange . . .” she mumbled. “Out of sorts. Dizzy.”

  “It must be the heat,” I said.

  Varun reached down, pressing his palm against her forehead, a hint of uncertainty crossing his face. We helped her up, guiding her to the nearest fountain. The way her body slumped against it when we carefully sat her down frightened me.

  “Thala, Thala!” The pitch of my own voice was enough to induce a terror in me. She was practically the only person I knew in this world. If something happened to her, I would be completely adrift. I forced myself to maintain my composure, but my heart was already racing with fear.

  “Thala, I know you’re tired. We can rest here for a bit. And when you feel better, we’ll start walking again,” I whispered to her, and she merely nodded.

  I turned back to Varun. “She’s been through quite a bit today,” I said to him. “I think it’s probably just exhaustion. Maybe if we rest here—”

  Varun shook his head. “No, that’s not it,” he said. His voice was coated in worry, his brow furrowed as he carefully examined Thala.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Her eyes . . .” He gestured to her, and some sort of recognition registered on his face. “I’ve seen this before. Your friend—she needs chamak.”

  “She needs chamak?”

  “Look at her eyes, her skin . . .”

  I carefully inspected Thala’s face. Her skin was paler than I remembered it, beads of sweat glistening across her forehead. But it was her eyes that terrified me. Her irises were large and black. I placed two fingers on the hollow of her throat, as Mala had once instructed me to do to measure out my own heartbeat, and the swift pounding of Thala’s pulse, beating like a war drum, terrified me.

  Varun reached for my arm, touching it gently as though to brace me for a jolt. “She’s been taking chamak—a lot of it—and from the look of her, she hasn’t been properly weaned off it. Look at the goose bumps on her arms, the way her teeth are chattering. She’s very sick, your friend,” he quietly said.

  I anxiously watched Thala again, and I knew he was right.

  “What can I do?” I asked.

  “There are two options. We could give her more chamak to stabilize her, but the results would be temporary, and we’d have to keep giving her more and more. Taking risks with chamak can do severe damage to her body’s natural balance. Besides, it looks like it’s already too late for that, given her symptoms. At this stage, if you give her chamak, she might stay in this state indefinitely—hallucinating, her mind still active but her body unable to function. The best thing would be simply to wait until it’s out of her system, but I should warn you—”

  My head snapped back in his direction. “Warn me of what?”

  “It’s very difficult to wean one’s body off chamak. It can sometimes be deadly. And even if she does survive, it’ll get worse before it gets better.”

  “You mean she could—”

  “She could die.”

  His words hit me like a slap, blood draining from my face, terror filtering through my body. I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t speak.

  “She’s cold now, but soon her body will burn up from the inside. It’s excruciatingly painful. A medicine man can help with the pain, maybe give her some herbs to help boost her immunity, but there’s no way of knowing whether she’ll—”

  I didn’t want to listen. I couldn’t bear to hear those words again: She could die. “Where can we find one—a medicine man?” I asked, desperation in my voice. Thala’s head fell against my shoulder, her eyes closed. I tried to shake her awake.

  “Thala.” I squeezed her hand. “Stay with me, please! I can’t lose you too,” I whispered. I unwrapped my scarf from my face, dabbed the sweat away from Thala’s forehead before I turned back to look at Varun.

  He did a double take when he saw my face, and for a second, our eyes locked. I knew he felt it too, that strange electricity between us, a familiarity that neither of us could explain. I felt myself redden and turned my attention back to Thala.

  “She’s going to be all right. We just need to get help,” I said with determination in my voice.

  When I turned back to Varun, I noticed that his gaze was still fixed on me, as though he couldn’t look away. A series of emotions registered across his countenance: shock, morphing into tenderness. I wondered if he knew who I was.

  “Not . . . a lot of medicine men in these parts,” he said softly, crouching down next to me, so close that I could feel his breath in my hair. There was hesitation in his voice, and the look on his face suggested that he couldn’t bear to give me bad news.

  I looked up and down the path as I quickly wrapped my scarf around my head again. Varun reached to help me, his hand carefully tucking back a stray hair.

  I tried to speak, but I was distracted by the way he looked at me and scared of the condition that Thala was in, too overwhelmed to think straight. Finally, I found my voice.

  “We’re still hours away from Mount Moutza, and it’s a few hours back to Ananta,” I said to him.

  I considered walking back toward Ananta, but I was afraid to leave Thala on her own in this state. What if Sikander’s men were making this very journey right now? What if they found her? In the condition she was in, there was no way she could defend herself. My hands were trembling, my heart racing with uncontrollable terror.

  “Why don’t you stay with your friend? I can walk back toward the city,” he offered, gesturing down the road. “I’ll find a medicine man on my way. Perhaps there’s one making the journey to Mount Moutza right now.”

  A wave of gratitude washed over me. “How could I ever repay you?” I asked.

  He hesitated, but his eyes stayed on me. Finally, he smiled. “It’s my pleasure to help you, just as it’s my pleasure to have met you.” He pointed to the road ahead of us, toward Mount Moutza. “This road . . . it’s going to be filled with people all day. She needs a safe and quiet place to stay the night.”

  “Where can we go?” I asked.

  “Fifty paces ahead, you’ll see a break in the wall, a fork in the road, and from there, if you walk another fifty paces, you’ll see a forest. Look carefully and you’ll find a banyan tree as wide as an elephant.”

  An uncontrolled laugh escaped Thala’s lips. “An elephant,” she repeated in a hollow voice that terrified me. Then her tone became serious. “I’ve never even seen an elephant,” she quietly added. “There’s so much I haven’t seen.”

  Varun turned back to me, compassion in his eyes. “You’ll recognize it. Wait for me under the tree,” he softly said.

  I nodded, lifting Thala up and wrapping an arm around her waist. My heart raced in panic as she fell against me like a rag doll. I grabbed her arm and threw it around my neck. “Your pilgrimage . . . ,” I said to Varun, realizing that there was no way he would make it to Mount Moutza by sunset now.

  “It’s all right,” he said, touching my hand, spark
ing off an electric desire within me again. “Helping you is as good as making an offering to the Goddess,” he said. His eyes lingered on me for a moment as though there was something more he wanted to say. But instead, he turned and quickly took off. I watched him, overwhelmed by his kindness.

  I turned my attention back to Thala, reaching for the end of her scarf, making sure it was securely wrapped around her face, covering her indiscreet hair.

  “It was so short, my time. I wish I could have spent it all with my family instead of with those brutes,” she slurred.

  “We’ll find your family, Thala.” There was urgency in my voice. I remembered Shree once telling me hope could literally keep a dying person alive. “Once you’re recovered, we’ll travel to Macedon. To your mother and your aunts.”

  What I really wanted to say was: Don’t die. Please don’t die on me. If you die, I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ll be alone in the world. Instead, I held my breath and walked us to the edge of the forest, where I could make out a dirt path cutting into the trees.

  “Promise me.” Thala’s voice was firm. She looked at me with clear eyes. She was lucid in that moment, as though something in my words had awoken her from her trance. “Promise me that if I live, you’ll come with me to Macedon.”

  I swallowed hard. “I promise,” I whispered.

  She smiled. “I can’t possibly die now, can I?” she said, but the way she slumped into my side made me shudder.

  Eighteen

  THALA SLIPPED IN AND OUT of consciousness. There were moments when she was incredibly lucid, and others when her eyelids began to droop, and I had to shake her awake, sometimes violently. My whole body was alert, looking for strangers, predators, Sikander’s men.

  It was getting dark. I wondered when Varun would return. Something rustled in the distance and I jumped, my eyes scanning the woods. My heart raced, throbbing like fire in my ears. A small creature sprang from the brush, running toward us. I braced myself, swiftly grabbing a stick with my hands and getting back on my feet.

  I squinted my eyes. A rabbit. I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I’m so cold,” Thala groaned.

  “I know,” I said, trying to hide the panic in my voice. It was cooling down, but it was still summer, balmy and warm.

  I made Thala a nest of leaves and twigs. With a handful of grass, I crafted her a pillow. Since there was no one nearby, I removed the scarf from around her face and covered her with it. Then I took off my own scarf and layered it over the first one. I sat beside her, keeping watch. I was determined to keep her unharmed.

  “If I go—” Thala started.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” I told her, my voice firm. “We have a deal. You’ll be fine. We’ll go to Macedon and find your family.” I said it as though I believed it. I had to. “Varun will be here soon, with a medicine man. He’s probably on his way back by now.” I wondered if my words actually made a difference. If they gave her peace of mind.

  Thala paused for a moment and gasped for breath. “This is why,” she said.

  “What is why? What do you mean?”

  “Why I’m desperate to go to the Library. This is why. I don’t just want to change the part about my being kidnapped by Sikander’s men, about being a slave. They started giving me chamak when I was nine. Now I’m sixteen. I don’t even know if I can live without it. Don’t you understand? If I don’t change my fate, I’ll never be normal.”

  Her words caused all the air to escape from my lungs, as hot tears streamed from my eyes. “I’m so sorry, Thala. I’m sorry for what you’ve been through. I’m sorry I didn’t understand.”

  She reached for my hand. “You can’t let him get control of the chamak. You’re right to go to the Sybillines. You’re right to warn them. It’s in Sikander’s interest to breed addicts like me. The sicker people like me become, the more powerful he is.”

  It was horrific, what she was suggesting, and I felt an uncontrollable outrage toward Sikander. Everything bad that had ever happened in my life was because of him. And I imagined that it was the same for so many others.

  “It’s hot. I feel like my hands and feet are on fire.”

  I remembered what Varun had said about Thala’s body burning up from the inside out. How he had told me it would get worse before it got better. I needed to distract her. “Tell me about your mother,” I urged her.

  Her breathing was rapid, her entire body drenched in sweat. I fanned her with a large leaf.

  “She has red hair,” she said.

  “Like yours.”

  “And kind eyes . . . the best seer I ever knew. Maybe she can even see me now.”

  “Thala, we’ll find that Library. I promise you. I don’t know how, but we have to.”

  “I know we will,” she said. “I’ve known that from the very beginning. I just hope we find it before it’s too late.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It was the very first vision I had when I saw you,” she said, and her eyes turned a clear green, the color of algae. “You were there. You’re the only one who can find it. He’ll let you in, I know it. But I don’t know if you’ll be able to get there in time to change my fate. I don’t know if it will be too late for me. If there’s a chance for me to change this one life . . .”

  She didn’t finish. Instead, she closed her eyes, slumping back against the tree. I didn’t know whether she was hallucinating or if what she was saying was true, but I understood now why the Library was so important to Thala.

  And I was afraid. Thala was shaking violently now, her whole body seizing with tremors. Small cries escaped her lips.

  “It hurts,” she whimpered. “It burns!”

  I grabbed the skin of water, poured some on my scarf, and tried to cool her down, but by now she could barely even speak. My heart raced with terror. I watched her eyes roll back into her head, leaving behind an ocean of white.

  “Thala, it’s all right, just stay with me. He’ll be here soon, he’ll—” My voice was frantic, desperate, but it was no use. I wasn’t a healer. I dabbed the cloth on her forehead, panicked tears streaming down my face. “Just stay with me. Please,” I cried.

  I wish I had somehow been prepared for the turn that took place then. I wish I didn’t remember her screams, her body convulsing in agony, as though she was literally on fire. Her cries were desperate, as if her skin was being lacerated by hot knives. Her hands shook. When her wails became so loud that they pierced the quiet of the forest, I had to cover her mouth, for fear that someone on the trail—possibly Sikander’s men—would hear us and find us.

  I wondered, as I spoke to Thala in a soothing voice, trying to cool her down, if Varun had duped me, if I had been seduced by his attractiveness. Perhaps there was no medicine man; perhaps he simply fled at the sight of a messy situation involving two young girls he didn’t know. Maybe I had been wrong to trust him after all. What did I know of him? He was a stranger I had met on the path to Mount Moutza.

  Desperate, I held Thala’s hands, begged the trees, the sky, anything, for some sort of help, any kind of aid. But no aid came. Tears fell from my eyes as though some dam had been breached.

  My mind turned to an even darker place: I had told Varun my name. I had accidentally shown him my face. I had essentially given him everything he needed to turn me in to Sikander. I had even taken his advice to wait in the woods.

  My fears consumed me: terror of being caught, horror at Thala’s plight, but the Unknown was my greatest source of trepidation. We were alone and adrift, two girls who had lost everything, and I couldn’t bear to see Thala die or to be caught because of my own stupidity.

  I had believed till then that what had happened to Mala and my father, or even Arjun’s capture, or crawling through that tunnel in a state of panic, was the worst thing I had ever observed, the worst things that had ever happened to me. But Thala’s cries of agon
y were like nothing I had ever known.

  All of a sudden, her body went completely still. I froze, unable to speak or do anything, till my stomach lurched, propelling me into action. I reached for her, trying to find her pulse, some semblance of a heartbeat, some evidence that Thala, my friend, was still with me.

  “Thala?” I touched her wrist, her throat. Nothing. “Thala!” I tried to slap her awake, shake her. My breath quickened in my chest, terror poisoning my blood.

  And then I heard a sound that made me whip my head around, scanning the woods. A rustling, a flapping.

  I saw it coming straight for me, hurtling through the sky.

  My eyes desperately peered at the dark horizon as it approached, closer and closer, making my heart race.

  It landed with a thud just paces from me, and I had to fight the urge to scream.

  I braced myself, blocking Thala’s body with my own. In my hand, the dagger. This time I was ready to strike.

  Nineteen

  THE WHITE BIRD waddled toward me, squawking as it approached. It was massive, almost my size.

  I gripped my dagger tightly, and we stared at each other, unblinking, for a few moments before I noticed that there was something tied to its foot. Slowly, I approached it, reluctantly putting my hand out to pet it, worried that it might bite me. But it didn’t. It simply nuzzled my palm and made a contented noise. I tentatively reached for its foot and untied a small package that I sensed was for me. In it, a glass vial, attached to a note.

  I held the vial in front of me. It was filled with a thick, clear green liquid that shimmered in the moonlight. I unfolded the parchment and squinted my eyes to read it:

  Amrita,

  I’m sorry I wasn’t able to return to you. This is part of the antidote that your friend must take, but there’s something you have to do first: Find a tree that sparkles silver in the moonlight. Scrape off a piece of its bark. Add a pinch of the bark to the vial. It’s a potent drug. It will help her sleep. Before the sun rises, find the earliest morning dew. A few drops should do. Add them to the mixture too. Then ask all the forces of nature to help you: the earth, the sky, the wind, the rain, the sun. You will bring her back, I know it.