The Library of Fates(35)



“What for? There are men out there who want to capture us . . .”

“It can never hurt to please the spirits.” She hesitated. “I think you’ll understand when you get there.”

“A superstition, then?” I asked.

She watched me for a moment before she turned her attention back to the map. “From there, you can buy yourselves horses and ride through the desert all the way to the caves. Three fortnights to the edge of the desert.”

“That’s a long journey.”

“It is. But all you have to do is follow the map,” she said. “I can give you some clean clothes, refill your skin . . . I only wish there were more I could do to help you. But the Sybillines will know what to do. There must be a reason they had an intermediary leave the map with instructions, and the dagger too—it’s a key to many things. Make sure you keep it safe.”

She got up and opened a drawer in the wall, pulling out simple salvars and kurtas. “You’ll be relatively inconspicuous wearing these. People will think you’re pilgrims. Be careful to keep your identities hidden.”

I nodded, collecting the clothes from her. Thala and I took turns cleaning up and changing in her dressing room.

“It should be safe to head out by now, I think,” I said, peeking out the window. “I’m guessing it’s been enough time for Nico and his men to scour the area and head back.”

Meena nodded wistfully. I could tell she was worried about us.

“Can you hold on to this for me?” I asked her, removing the ring Arjun had given me and handing it to her. “In case Arjun ever comes looking for me. You can tell him where I went.” It pained me to part with it, but I wanted to make sure that if he was ever able to escape Sikander’s clutches, Meena could give him evidence that I had come here and that I was headed to the caves.

“I have one more question.” I turned to Meena.

“Of course.”

“The intermediary . . . who was he?”

Meena cocked her head to one side. “It was many, many years ago, but we have a story about it in my family. My great-great-great-great-grandmother opened the door to the map store one day, and there he was, this young handsome man with a satchel in his hand. He had her draw the map, paid her, and left the dagger with clear instructions.”

“Then what happened?”

“He told her that one day a young woman would come. She would bring with her an oracle. It was her fate to find the Sybillines and warn them.”

“She?”

“Yes. He also told her that it was her duty to keep all this in confidence. To tell her daughter and have her tell her daughter and so on. She was intrigued, as you can imagine.”

“And so she agreed?”

“She did . . . but there’s a part of the story that I always thought had been made up, inflated and exaggerated with time the way myths are.” Meena took a deep breath and looked at me. “You see, just as he turned to leave, my great-great-great-great-grandmother asked the man, ‘Who are you?’ and he replied, ‘I am the Keeper of the Library of All Things. And I will wait for her as long as I have to.’”

At this, Thala’s eyes widened. She squeezed my wrist so hard that I had to turn and look at her, vindication on her face.

“Then he stepped out the door, and my grandmother watched him fly away.”

“Fly away?”

“He was a vetala. Vetalas can fly,” Thala whispered.

“Not was,” Meena corrected her. “If he was a vetala, and if the story is true, then he’s still out there somewhere. He still is a vetala, an immortal. And he left the map behind for you,” she said, looking at me.





Fifteen



“IT’S REAL. Why aren’t her words proof enough for you?”

I glanced around the empty cobblestone alley, small yellow and pink cottages on either side of us. We were on the quiet side of the hill outside Meena Amba’s store. The air was still and the street devoid of human traffic, but I wondered if we would ever truly be safe again. I turned to Thala. “She said herself she thought the story had been exaggerated.”

“But she doesn’t believe that now!”

“So what do you suggest we do?”

“We have to find him! I could change my history. It could be like I was never separated from my family. And you could undo what just happened. Don’t you want your father back?”

I felt a pang in my chest that was so painful, I could barely breathe. “Of course I do! But I just don’t believe people can go back in time and change all the horrible things that ever happened to them! Don’t you think if that was the case, everyone would be seeking this Library? Everyone would be changing their fate?”

“But they don’t, because they don’t know how to find the Keeper of the Library . . .”

“Thala, do you know how ridiculous you sound?” I could hear the edge in my voice. “Even if I did believe you, and I don’t . . . how would we ever locate this vetala of yours?”

“Based on what Meena said, it sounds like the vetala is looking for you. We may not even have to find him—he could come to us.”

“Let’s get clear here.” I stopped in the middle of the road to make sure what I was going to say next registered. “You tricked me so I would release you from that cell. I don’t blame you. You wanted to be free. You’re free now, so there’s no need to carry on this charade about the Library of All Things and some magical vetala who can change the past.” Even as I said the words, I wondered if it was just a coincidence that both she and Meena had mentioned the Keeper of the Library. But I pressed on: “I have a duty to warn the Sybillines, and I won’t be distracted from it.”

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