The Chaos Curse (Kiranmala and the Kingdom Beyond #3) - Sayantani DasGupta Page 0,72
I didn’t have the heart to squeeze back.
As we walked away slowly from the clinic, I thought about Naya: the time she stowed away on the intergalactic auto rikshaw, the time she tried to give me a facial in outer space, the time she was captured alongside Ai-Ma because of me. And of course, this most recent time she’d saved my life.
I knew what we had to do, but I didn’t have the courage to do it. “I guess we have to go find that tree,” I said in a low voice to Neel. “To save Naya.”
Neel didn’t miss a beat. “We have to use the book Einstein-ji gave you.”
We were in a deserted area of the PSS hideout, a narrow hallway by the dormitories. I leaned against the wall and heaved a sigh. “My last plan didn’t go so well. That’s how Naya got this hurt. Are you sure we should do this?”
“Kiran, listen, the Trojan horse plan may have been your idea, but I went along with it too,” Neel said. His face suddenly had its old determination, like when I’d first met him last fall. “It’s both our faults that Naya is in there, fighting for her life. We have no choice. We have to use the book. We have to save her.”
“But to go back in time?” I pulled out the copy of Thakurmar Jhuli that Einstein had given me. “I don’t know, Neel. Maybe I’ve gotten a little too sure of myself, a little too brave. Maybe we need to think this through.”
“Look, Smartie-ji must have known something like this would happen. Why else would he have given us this book and made such a big deal about stories existing outside of time?” Neel asked, but I couldn’t answer. I felt the weight of Naya’s life squarely on my shoulders.
“Maybe Einstein was just being all metaphorical,” I finally hedged.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Neel grabbed the book and flipped through it, “Here it is! A story called ‘How the Demon Queen Chose Her Consort’!”
I started. “I’ve never heard that story.”
Neel frowned, scanning quickly through the pages. “Weirdly, neither have I. But then again, this isn’t just an ordinary book.”
I peered over his shoulder at an illustration of someone who looked a lot like a crown-wearing young-looking Pinki standing before two men who had their backs to us. Behind her throne was a sign for Ghatatkach Academy of Murder and Mayhem—and just to the right of the throne was a tree with some bright blue flowers on it.
“Look, those must be the blue champak flowers the doctor was talking about. We’ve got to at least try, Kiran.” Neel’s voice was so low and urgent, it was almost a growl.
“Neel, we almost got killed on our last trip to Demon Land. The only reason we made it out alive was because of Ai-Ma,” I reminded him.
“Well, we’re a better team now,” Neel said stubbornly. “And older. And more mature.”
I didn’t point out that neither of us could have gotten that much more mature in only four months. “But how does this time-traveling book work? Do we just ask it to take us back to your mom’s school?”
“I’m not sure.” Neel stared at the pages of the story. “I guess we could start reading it out loud and see what happens.”
I bit my lip. I had learned my lesson, at too great a price, about making rash decisions after the fiasco of the Trojan horse. I didn’t want to make the same mistake and hurt someone else again. “Neel, are you sure? Isn’t a part of that butterfly effect that you’re not supposed to mess around with time? What if we go back there and make things worse?”
“Einstein-ji gave us this book because he knew we’d need it!” Neel’s voice was definitive, but I could tell he was worried too, because he was chewing on his nail. “We can’t just let Naya die!”
That did it for me. He was right. I couldn’t just let Naya die. I wouldn’t just let Naya die.
“We can always join the rakkhosh dance team.” I smiled weakly, remembered the huge, webby water rakkhosh who had tripped on a flying rakkhosh’s wings earlier this afternoon and then proceeded to take about three fellow dancers out during a step-ball-change turn. The resulting demon pile was a disaster of talons, warty limbs, hair, teeth, and I don’t know what else. It looked worse than a tractor-trailer pileup on the Jersey Turnpike.