The Chaos Curse (Kiranmala and the Kingdom Beyond #3) - Sayantani DasGupta Page 0,63
time to debate the Rakkhoshi Rani’s motivations right now,” said Mati matter-of-factly. “But if you want to try and smuggle a note in to her, Neel, we can do it with the tottho.”
“The what?” I asked.
“You know, Your Royalness, the tottho!” Naya pointed to a bunch of beautifully decorated trays already arranged in lines on the ground. I saw packets of sweets, jewels, saris, fish, and more. “The presents that one side of the wedding party sends to the other! But because Sesha is, well, a greedy Gus, he’s expecting tottho presents from everyone in the kingdom to commemorate the day of the gaye halud ceremony!”
“So that’s the ceremony where the bride and groom get smeared in turmeric paste—like for purification or whatever, right?” I asked.
“Very good, Your Highnosity!” agreed Naya. “Growing up in another dimension and everything, I know things can be confusing, but you catch on quick!”
I remembered Ma had told me stories about her cousin-sister’s gaye halud. How she and her other young cousins had all worn yellow. How they had watched as all their aunties had laughed and ulu-ulu’ed and smeared the bride-to-be’s face, arms, and legs with Va-va-voom Turmeric Cream, a product advertised to help clear up your complexion and make you look, according to their company jingle, “va-va-voomilicious!”
Neel, I noticed, was scribbling something on a piece of notebook paper that Naya had helpfully handed him. In classic Naya style, she’d also given him an assortment of sparkly and fruity-smelling markers to write his note. For who knows what reason, Neel was going along with her suggestion to write each word in a different color. I looked over his shoulder and saw that his note was simple but direct.
Dear Mother—You may be a killer, but you’re no stooge. Are you marrying this goon for real or are you a prisoner?
Your sometimes-loving son,
Neelkamal
“Huh,” I couldn’t help but say, “interesting choice of wording.”
“Don’t judge,” Neel snapped, as with Naya’s help, he tucked the note into a gift tray full of fake eyelashes, bobby pins, and nail polish.
Mati came over to me. “The plan is to smuggle some weapons into the wedding venue inside these trays of presents. So that they are there for when we decide to bring in a bigger force.”
“Weapons?” I echoed.
“Sure. We rakkhosh can use our strength and nails and teeth. But you human resistance fighters need a little more help. Take that giant sandesh shaped like a fish.” Priya pointed at a tottho tray lying nearby, wrapped prettily in bright pink cellopaper. “It’s the perfect shape to hide chakus.”
“What’s the point of smuggling in weapons without anyone to use them?” I asked. “I mean, you’re putting knives inside sandesh, but you’re only sending in four or five spies at a time to each of these events.”
“Weapons are expendable; my team is not,” Mati said. “I’m not risking even one PSS life unnecessarily. We have to study, scout, and plan everything out.”
“How long are you going to do that? The wedding is at the end of the week,” I snorted. Man, for an important resistance leader, Mati was ridiculously cautious.
“Do you have a problem with the way I’m running things, Cousin?” Mati’s voice got tense again as she caught my expression.
“No, no! Not at all!” I said, trying to fix my face.
I caught Naya and Priya giving each other a look. “What are in these saris, then?” Neel asked, pointing to a tray of saris starched and sculpted to look like a bouquet of butterflies.
“Oh, they’re not saris at all,” explained Mati. “They’re poison-proof shields. Armor for the humans on our side if and when there’s a battle.”
“Wouldn’t want to risk someone getting a hangnail,” I muttered.
“Kiran, come on,” Neel said. Now it was his turn to give me a “cut it out” look.
“The fate of the multiverse is at stake, Cousin,” Mati snapped. “I’m not going to just run in there willy-nilly without a plan!”
“If you’re so busy planning, maybe you’ll never have to run in there at all,” I countered.
Just then, one of the younger PSS girls skated on her board into the room and whispered something in Mati’s ear.
“Listen, I’ve got to go deal with some kind of crisis with the rakkhosh pedicures. I’ll be right back,” Mati said. Her face was tight and tired, and I felt bad for giving her a hard time. “Naya, will you give me a hand? I’m not sure I can always make out all these different demonic dialects.”