The Serpent's Secret

by Sayantani DasGupta

  “Would you have come with us if we told you we didn’t know exactly where your parents were?”

  I had nothing to say to that. We’d left Parsippany in such a rush, escaping from that rakkhosh. But if I’d really had time to think it through, would I have gone off with two princes I didn’t know, who didn’t even know how to find my parents? Probably not. And where would that have left me? Alone and no closer to rescuing Ma and Baba.

  We walked in a tense silence behind Lal to the palace stables. The big double doors had been hastily shut after the horses had trotted in. A little light shone from in between.

  “May I come in?” Lal called through the half-open door.

  “No, you may not,” answered a musical voice from inside. A girl’s voice.

  I glanced at Neel, who muttered, “It’s the custom here,” without meeting my eyes. “You never—never—say you invite someone through a door.”

  Before I could ask any more, the ornately carved doors of the stables flung open.

  “My princes, you are home!”

  Standing before us was a sturdy, capable-looking girl with shoulder-length dark hair. She was dressed like the boys, in loose pants and a flowing top. She had on knee-high boots and held a broom in her hand.

  “Princess Just Kiran, I am honored to introduce you to my very best friend.” Lal grinned ear to ear. “Except my brother, of course! This is Mati!”

  Mati joined her hands. “Namaskar, Princess Just Kiran, welcome to our kingdom.”

  “Um … hi.” I awkwardly namaskar-ed her back. Even with all the stuff I’d discovered about myself in the last day—that I could fight demons, that I really was a princess—I still didn’t like meeting new people that much. I could never think of what to say. Except with Neel, of course, but His Royal Pain-in-the-Heinie was obviously an exception to the rule.

  I stepped through the stable doorway and took in the surroundings. The place was sparkling, and smelled like … the closest thing I could think of was the smell of freshly washed cotton—like when Baba pulled me out a shirt straight from the dryer. And what was that other smell? Was it honey?

  “This is nectar from the bees in our forest.” Mati pulled out a silver pitcher and poured a rich golden liquid into Midnight and Snowy’s troughs. “It’s the best food for a pakkhiraj horse.”

  “A pakkhiraj?” I repeated.

  “The name for this type of flying horse.” As Mati moved from trough to trough, I noticed that she dragged one of her feet a little. It was barely noticeable, but one of her shoes had a thicker sole than the other, making up for the shorter leg. “Didn’t Their Royal Highnesses tell you?”

  “Cool it with the royal highness stuff, Mati,” Neel ordered. He had taken off his jeweled turban and collar, and his dark hair was sticking up on end. “We’ve known you for way too long to take that kind of beetlejuice from you.”

  “Mati is the daughter of our stable master,” Lal explained. “A wise teacher who taught all three of us to ride, to use weapons, to care for animals, and many more things.”

  “She’s like our little sister. She’s a lot tougher than she looks.” As he passed by her, Neel playfully messed up Mati’s hair, to which the seemingly mild-mannered Mati threw the nectar pitcher at his retreating head. It hit Neel’s shoulder and bounced harmlessly to the stable floor.

  “Nice! Your throwing arm’s improving!” Neel examined a big blob of nectar on his shirt, and took a taste. “Maybe you’ll make it as a bowler in the royal cricket league after all!”

  “All credit goes to you for giving me so much reason to practice my aim, Your Royalness!” Mati stuck out her tongue, then lobbed a horse brush at him, which Neel caught with a laugh and a bow.

  This was a different side of Neel than I’d seen before. With me, he just seemed irritating and self-centered and maybe even a little dangerous, but with Mati he seemed almost like a nice person. Almost.

  As I thought this, I looked over at Lal, and noticed that he wasn’t joining in his brother and Mati’s teasing. He made big eyes and gaped a little at Mati, then caught himself and studied a nail in the floor, a beam on the ceiling, and, finally, a little thread on his sleeve. In fact, he made such a big show of looking everywhere but at Mati, it was totally obvious that was the only person he wanted to look at. If the girl noticed, she didn’t say anything, but kept throwing random stuff at Neel. Suddenly, the reason for Neel’s earlier teasing of his brother became clear. Had we all been at school, I would have passed a note to Zuzu in class with the word *AWKWARD* written in big curly letters.

  “Unlike some people, I still have work to do.” Mati shook her finger playfully at Neel, and moved over to the white horse.

  “Excuses, excuses.” Neel tossed the horse brush back at her. “You’ll never fulfill your potential as a cricket star with that attitude.”

  I felt a pang of jealousy at how comfortable Mati was with the princes, how much she fit with them. They were all so relaxed in one another’s presence—there was no arguing, no lying, no calling one another 2-Ds or anything else. Instead, everyone seemed to just be so happy and, oh, I don’t know, at home with each other.

  As Mati worked, she radiated such a sense of purpose and competence that I could almost feel it. Snowy nuzzled her cheek, leaving a nectary trail on her neck. “There you go, my handsome one, my Tushar Kona, my star,” the girl murmured.

  “What did you call him?” I asked, feeling a little shy.

  Mati looked up at me with steady caramel eyes. “Tushar Kona—snowflake.”

  “You didn’t realize that was his name, my lady?” Lal asked. “I thought you must have heard that from us—and perhaps that was why you were calling him Snowy.”

  The white horse whinnied and I could have sworn he was grinning at me.

  “No, I didn’t know,” I admitted. “But maybe Snowy told me himself.”

  I would never have thought such a thing possible back in New Jersey, but stranger things had happened to me since leaving home than in my entire life.

  “He likes you,” Mati said. I believed her. Mati knew a lot more than I did, it seemed. About a lot of things. I peeked at her from under my eyelashes, watching her clean bejeweled tack and brush glossy coats. Now she was laughing at something Lal said, shaking her head. What made her so comfortable with herself? Did she ever wonder how people saw her, what they thought of her? Did little kids laugh or point or whisper about her on the street like they did sometimes with me and my scars? Somehow, I got the feeling that she didn’t care, even if they did.

  Mati was over by Midnight now, and she took the comb with which Neel was attempting to untangle the horse’s mane. “Here, give me that, Your Highness; Raat doesn’t like it when you pull.”

  “Whatever you say, boss lady!” Neel said as Mati gave him a shove.

  My skin got all hot and prickly. I felt completely alone. These three were each other’s family, and I was a total outsider. I bet they wished they hadn’t brought me along. I bet they wished I wasn’t even here.

  “And I suppose Raat was the one who told you his name meant night?” Lal asked.

  I nodded, not trusting my voice. I felt a sudden and overwhelming urge to get out of the cozy stables, to do something—anything—productive toward finding my family.

  “Should I go look for this minister guy?” I asked, moving toward the stable doors. “Maybe you could just tell me where he is …”

  “No, you won’t be able to handle him alone. He’s a bit of a birdbrain.” Prince Neel fell into step with me and beckoned to his brother. “Come on, Bro.”

  Lal looked sheepish. “Um, you two go ahead, I’ll catch up.”

  Neel stopped and turned around so abruptly I almost bumped into him. “I am not leaving you alone here.”

  “Wait.” I was so surprised I actually snort-laughed. “Aren’t you the same guy that wouldn’t save his brother from the rakkhosh on my front lawn until it was almost too late?”

  “That was different.” Neel didn’t
even have the courtesy to look at me as he said this.

  I didn’t necessarily want to be alone with Neel, but I also didn’t want to rob Lal of his precious time with his friend. Plus, it was fun to annoy the bossy older prince.

  “So here’s the thing—Lal’s a big boy. I’m pretty sure he and Mati will be okay.”

  “You don’t understand—” Neel began, but Lal cut him off.

  “Just Kiran is right, Brother, I am not a child any longer. I will be fine here in the stables.”

  “Lal, you know we should stay together …”

  “Neel, stop worrying! We’ll stay inside the stables and we won’t invite anyone in,” Mati said in a calm voice. “You said it yourself, I’m tougher than I look.”

  Neel seemed about to argue, but he looked from his brother’s face to Mati’s and then just nodded. “Come on, Princess.”

  I shrugged and followed him. Boys were so weird.

  I walked with Neel out of the stable, wondering what I would say to the king’s minister. He was probably some important, busy guy with a lot of government stuff to do. How was I going to get him to help me?

  I turned to Neel, to ask him what the minister was like, but the expression on his face made the words dry up in my mouth.

  “They’re totally BFFs, you know. Best friends since they were babies.”

  “Huh?” I asked in my not-so-eloquent way.

  “My brother and Mati.” Neel gestured over his shoulder to the still open doorway of the stable. As Mati came to close it, I could hear the prince chattering away to the stable hand, telling the girl all about his adventures in the far-off and exotic land of New Jersey.

  “They have these things called Giant Gulpies and machines that serve fizzy drinks—with free refills all day!” Lal’s voice became more muffled as the heavy doors closed off the cozy scene.

  “Mati seems nice. She reminds me of my best friend from home.”

  “They can’t spend as much time together anymore.” Neel picked up a stick from the ground and cracked it angrily in two. “Not since … well, since our father gave Lal so many more responsibilities.”

  Not knowing what else to say, I just mumbled, “Oh?”

  We were walking away from the stables on a pebble path through a manicured lawn. On either side of us were fragrant fruit trees and flowers. I could smell orange blossoms, hibiscus, some heady jasmine, and a dozen other perfumey scents I couldn’t identify.

  Neel kept talking, as if to himself. “Of course, in my father’s eyes, a stable master’s daughter isn’t anywhere good enough to hang out with the precious crown prince.”

  That caught my attention. “Wait, didn’t Chhaya Devi say you were the crown prince? Anyway, isn’t Lal younger than you?”

  “Yeah, well, that’s a long, complicated story.” Neel kicked at the ground, sending pebbles flying. “But it’s totally for the best. There’s no way I would want to be crown prince anyway.”

  Curiouser and curiouser. Did Neel really not want to be crown prince or did their father just not want his oldest son to inherit the throne? Why would that be? Had Neel done something really bad—or did their dad think he was just too arrogant to rule the kingdom?

  “My poor brother. He can’t stand disappointing our father, but he can’t stand disappointing Mati either. He doesn’t get that you can’t please everyone all the time.”

  “I don’t think it’s such a bad thing to be a nice guy.”

  “That attitude’s going to get him hurt some day,” Neel snapped.

  I tried a different tack. “Is your dad strict like that with you too?”

  “You could say that.” Neel laughed—a harsh, unhappy sound. “You could also say that as far as our father’s concerned, I’m invisible.”

  “Oh, come on,” I scoffed. “Not really?”

  “Yeah, really. I might as well be a ghost.” Neel pointed at a nearby coconut tree. “Like the one who lives in that tree trunk.”

  “Please, you’re trying to tell me there’s really a ghost that lives in that tree?”

  “Usually. Unless she’s out trying to impersonate a human woman and sneak into a real family again. Don’t ghosts live in coconut trees in your dimension?”

  “No!” I still wasn’t sure whether to believe him, but quickened my pace just in case, to put more distance between myself and the tall brown trunk. “Are you just trying to scare me?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Well, just lay off. I don’t scare easily.”

  Neel snorted. “Good, ’cause I don’t roll with scaredy-cats.”

  “Whatever. Could we go meet this minister guy now?”

  Neel didn’t say anything else, but loped off, leaving me to dash after him. To my surprise, he didn’t head toward the palace, but toward the edge of the forest. I hurried to follow, and almost crashed right into him when he stopped. He stood under a guava tree whose branches were heavy with fruit.

  “Tuni!” he called. “Oh, Tuni Bhai! Come on, Brother Tuni, show yourself!”

  There was a twittering and a chirping from above our heads, and then something hard and fast pelted down at us.

  “Ow.” I rubbed my head. Something solid had hit me. Something solid that hurt!

  Thunk. Neel rubbed his head too. “Stop it, Tuntuni!”

  An adorable yellow bird with a bright red beak danced on the branch above our heads.

  “Yeaaaaah, boy! I got you good!” The bird chewed on a piece of bamboo that bobbed up and down in his beak like a cartoon cigar.

  “Come on, Tuni, chill out,” Neel protested. “This is the princess—”

  “From the other dimension!” the bird chirped. “You don’t gotta tell me! I can smell the ordinariness on her from a kilometer away! Pee-yew!”

  “Please don’t tell me this rude bird is your father’s minister.” At this, the bird tossed a few more unripe guavas, which we managed to duck.

  “Don’t take the act too seriously,” Neel muttered. “He likes to keep everybody thinking he’s a few crackers short of a packet.”

  “Tuni doesn’t want a cracker!” the bird rhymed, spitting seeds. “Especially from a royal slacker!”

  “Tuni, sir … um, do you know where my parents are?” I asked as politely as I could.

  “And why should I tell an unimaginative 2-D like you?”

  “Come on, Tuni, strike us a deal—how can we convince you to tell us what we want?” Neel wheedled.

  The bird considered the offer. “Okay, slacker, why don’t you convince your royal father to arrest the barber?”

  “I don’t think the cuckoo thing is an act,” I whispered.

  “Nah, he’s just a big poser,” Neel said. Then louder, “Why should I do that?”

  “When I had a thorn in my foot last week, that dratted barber wouldn’t come—he made me wait and wait. Said he had human customers who came first.” The bird spit more guava seeds. “The nerve!”

  “I don’t think my father would arrest the barber for that,” Neel said.

  “Well then, how about I ask the palace mouse to bite his royal potbelly?” Tuni suggested.

  “Why would the mouse do that?”

  “Well, what if I asked the castle cat to chase the mouse?”

  This was getting silly. “Where are my parents?” I interrupted.

  But Neel shushed me with a gesture. “And if the cat refused to chase the mouse?”

  “Why then”—Tuni was gaining steam—“I’d ask the stick to beat the cat.”

  “And if the stick refused to beat the cat?”

  “Why then, I’d ask the fire to burn the stick.”

  Neel was apparently enjoying the game. He picked up one of the hard guavas that the bird had thrown and began to toss it in the air. But I wondered if he was playacting too, because there was a muscle twitching suspiciously in the prince’s cheek.

  “And if the fire refused to burn the stick?” Neel asked the bird.

  “Why then, I’d ask the sea to drown the fire!”


  I was getting the hang of it. “Okay, so if the sea refused to put out the fire?” I asked. Neel gave me a glimmer of a grin, and I was startled by how nice it felt to be on the same team for once.

  “Well then, I would ask the elephant to drink up the sea!”

  “And if the elephant refused to drink the sea?” Neel and I asked in one voice.

  “Why then, I would go to the smallest animal I could find.”

  “An ant?” I guessed.

  “A gnat?” Neel supplied.

  Suddenly, I felt a sharp bite on my arm. As I slapped the sting, something Neel had said in the market came to me.

  “No, it’s the mosquito, right?”

  Tuni pecked at a guava. “Oh yes, I would ask the mosquito to bite the elephant.”

  “And if the mosquito refused—” Neel began to say, but now it was my turn to shush him. A light bulb went off in my head. Weren’t all of Baba’s animal stories about creatures fulfilling their destiny—their dharma? The moral always seemed to be that if you ever came across a tiger or a crocodile in the woods, you weren’t supposed to trust it. Because no matter how much they promised they weren’t going to eat you, they definitely would, because that was their nature. To eat people. Like a mosquito’s was to bite people. I’d never thought there was much use for Baba’s animal stories—I mean, it’s not like I was bumping into tigers and crocodiles on a weekly basis in the Willowbrook Mall. But boy, was I glad for them now.

  I called to Tuni, “The mosquito wouldn’t refuse because that’s what mosquitoes like to do—that’s their nature—they bite, right?”

  “Yessiree! The Princess Kiranmala will be performing nightly at seven and eleven in the royal forest tea salon!” the bird burbled into the stick, as if it were a microphone. “Catch the best puzzle-solving act this side of the transit corridor! And be sure not to miss our early-bird shrimp cutlets special!”

  “So the mosquito—” I began, but Tuni interrupted me.

  “Did you see what I did there?” He put his wing up to his mouth as if telling me a secret. “With the early-bird special? Early bird, get it?”