The Serpent's Secret: Chapters 6–11

Lal’s words startled me, because they were tinged with that same wistful jealousy I thought I’d seen on Neel’s face back on my front lawn.

“Oh, it’s going really well!” I said in a rush. “You have excellent manners and perfect posture and great...erm, diction!”

The red-brown ground was dry, without a sign of any tree, bush, or shrub. More bald than our front yard even, and that was saying a lot. Weirdly shaped outcroppings of stone, and a giant mesa-like mountain marked the eerie landscape.

Lal, Neel, the two horses, and I picked our way over the rocky ground. As we approached the base of the high mesa, Lal turned to me. I noticed Neel still wasn’t meeting my eyes since we’d argued.

The animals were doing well on the hard rocks, but neither of them had unfurled their wings.

The lines were marked with large signs. The first one read:
Those upstanding royalty, citizens, animals, and demons holding papers (this way)

But my question was answered as the princes headed toward the right side, and a disembodied voice barked, “This line is for those with papers only!”

P.S. If your arms shoot fire, that's okay. But you will be liable for anything or anyone you accidentally set on fire. And you must provide your own fire extinguisher.

If you must, use conveniently located spittoons for the appropriate deposition of your bodily fluids.

“Fear not, fear not, fear not! You won’t be maimed or shot!
Truth be told I can’t hold my own against one so strong, I’m a bag of bones! Sharp horns have I, but I use them not, my joints are old, my muscles shot...."

“If the princess gets me fired,” the officer shrieked, “who will feed these boys I’ve sired?”

Going up the mountain had been a hard scramble over sharp rocks. Now I ambled down a grassy slope.

The buildings lining the main street seemed to be built by the same architect as those ramshackle alleyways, because they zigzagged too. They were slapped together haphazardly, with the top floors at slight angles to the bottom floors, so that nothing exactly lined up.

The buildings lining the main street seemed to be built by the same architect as those ramshackle alleyways, because they zigzagged too. They were slapped together haphazardly, with the top floors at slight angles to the bottom floors, so that nothing exactly lined up.

Everything looked odd and precarious. The entire place seemed to be thumbing its nose at any principles of sense or gravity.

“Have you seen two brothers—one in red, one in blue?” I asked a rickshaw puller, who looked at me blankly.

The market was starting to feel less like a homecoming and more like an overload on all my senses. I hadn’t made it five steps before I was accosted again.

“I have your color!” she insisted, pulling out a dozen silver and pink bangles that she slipped on her own robust arm.

“I’m sorry, they were very nice,” I began. “Maybe in a different color...”
But she was already hawking her wares again.

“I’m sorry, they were very nice,” I began. “Maybe in a different color...”
But she was already hawking her wares again.

As ravenous as I was, neither item seemed particularly appetizing.

The man took out a metal rod and began to pull down the corrugated shutters in front of the shop.

I rolled my eyes. Someone needed some lessons in basic capitalism.

“What do you know about it?” The shopkeeper seemed ready to keep running, so I grabbed the potato chips from the pole. This incensed the little man even further.

“This girl has stolen my moustache!” The man pointed a spindly finger at me.
A portly police constable pushed his way forward of the group. “Brother Madan, calm yourself. When did this theft occur?”

The crowd rumbled, and I felt my amusement congeal into fear.

“It took you long enough!” Neel muttered. But underneath his glowering brows, I could see a hint of a smile.

“It is an excellent weapon,” Lal said, handling my new purchase. “The bow is supple but strong, and these arrows will fly true.”

I didn’t have time to ask more questions, because Neel was urging us along. He led us toward a dingy little stall all the way at the end of the market.

“My brother is determined to make a purchase from Chhaya,” Lal said as he tried to control an increasingly aggressive Midnight, “the purveyor of shadows.”

I hung back with Lal, helping him control the skittish horses. I caressed Snowy’s nose, whispering to him.

The old crone peered at Neel with one sharp eye. The woman’s other eye, rheumy and diseased, focused directly at me.

The old crone peered at Neel with one sharp eye. The woman’s other eye, rheumy and diseased, focused directly at me.

The old woman hobbled over to a tiny purple vial with a pointed cork. The vial seemed to be full of a pulsating, swirling energy.

“What the what?” I snapped around so fast I almost slipped off Snowy’s back. “You told me they were in that demon wellspring!”