The Serpent's Secret (Kiranmala and the Kingdom Beyond #1)(52)

“Oh, we couldn’t ask for anything, Ai-Ma,” Neel protested, still rubbing the noxious stuff into her feet. He stared at me with big eyes.

“Oh, no, how could we, Ai-Ma?” I added in my fake princely voice. My arms were aching from massaging the crone’s head, and I had more than one cut on my hands from pulling her awful gray hairs.

Without warning, Ai-Ma sat up. Neel and I both tumbled off her.

“Oh, shame shame, puppy shame, all the donkeys know your name!” she protested. “How can this be? My grandbabies must have a gift from their Ai-Ma—I have prepared no food, I have no new clothes or toys to give you. Please, please do not embarrass an old woman. What can Ai-Ma give you?”

“Well, Ai-Ma,” Neel suggested, “you could take us as far as the border of Demon Land.”

“Done!” Ai-Ma promised, scooping us both into her giant arms.

The rakkhoshi walked us through the desert of Demon Land for seven days and eleven long nights. Her arms were large enough to be warty hammocks, and Neel and I each rested in the crook of an elbow. As comfortable as a warty hammock may sound, let me assure you it was hard traveling. The only trees on our path grew thorns or poisonous-looking pods. There was little water, even less food, and no respite. Ai-Ma grew tired once or twice, but I was so nervous of what would happen if she stopped, that I kept telling her stories from back home. Appropriately adapted for a demon, of course. In most of them, Jovi was a greedy khokkosh.

As we left the desert, I was shocked to see such wanton waste, filth, and destruction everywhere the rakkhosh had been. There were piles of Styrofoam cups, mountains of single-use drink bottles, and plastic cola six-pack holders that no one had bothered to cut through.

“Demon Land needs a better recycling program!” I protested. “Look at those plastic rings; if ducks get caught on them, they might choke and die, Ai-Ma!”

“Well, I certainly hope so,” the old woman responded, her eyes a little glassy. Her long tongue was drooling like a dripping faucet on my turban, “Oh, grandbaby, forgive me, this nose of mine keeps making me think of roasted goose, partridge pie, chickadee stew!”

The turban almost jumped off my head in fright, but I held it on tightly.

After seeing almost no one on our long walk, we now approached a group of marauding rakkhosh, who were marching as they sang:

“Good flesh, warm flesh,

Toasted nice and sweet!

We’ll suck their marrow, chew their bones,

And curry up their feet!”

“Old woman, what tasty morsels are these you carry?” the head rakkhosh asked, peering at us with all three of his bulging eyeballs.

Neel gulped audibly, and my own heart beat in time to Tuntuni’s shudders on my head. Ai-Ma may have been half-deranged, besides being sweet on us in a twisted sort of a way, but these rakkhosh weren’t. They weren’t going to mistake me for a demon prince with an oversized, live turban. If Ai-Ma decided to hand us over, or got overpowered, we were goners.

Luckily, as Baba would say, Granny still had some chutzpah left in her.

“Be gone, you fart-faces!” Ai-Ma shrieked, waving a knobby arm. “These are my darling grandbabies, and if you so much as break wind in their direction, my daughter the Rakkhoshi Queen will have your entrails stuffed with gold and made into necklaces!”

The other rakkhosh responded immediately.

“Oh, terribly sorry, ma’am,” the head rakkhosh apologized, bowing low as he backed away.

“Entirely our misunderstanding, madam,” said the one with extra arms growing out of his chest.

“Unforgiveable, wretched thing to suggest,” said a third demon, who had what looked like teeth for hair.

“Scram! Scat! Hato! Shoo!” Ai-Ma yelled, and they ran off in the other direction.

“Your mother’s name sure packs a punch,” I said under my breath to Neel.

He said nothing, but pointed ahead of him. We were finally approaching the border. We knew this because of the sign that read:

Thanks for Visiting Demon Land!

“The Bloodthirsty State”

State Symbol: The Razor Blade

State Flower: The Thorn

State Bird: The Vulture

State Song: “Meat, Glorious Meat”

100 million victims eaten daily

Be sure to visit again soon!

(Please drop by our gift shop for

a complimentary toothpick!)

With tears, hugs, and more than a few slobbery kisses, Ai-Ma let us down.

“Good-bye, my licorice toadstools, farewell, my candied beetle dungs, come back to visit your poor Ai-Ma soon!”





I guess we’re in the Mountains of Illusions.”

It was hard to miss the drastic change of scenery. Instead of the carcass-filled, rubbish-strewn desert, we were now walking through rolling hills, the kind I’d never seen before. The colors were mesmerizing—shimmering blues, violets, yellows, magentas, and greens swirled all around us. In fact, it was hard to tell where the ground ended and the low-lying clouds began.

As soon as we were out of view from Demon Land, we stopped to rest. We drank our fill from a sweet turquoise-colored stream, and Neel helped me free Tuntuni from under my turban. The poor bird was half-comatose from fright and heat exhaustion, and crumpled next to me. It was great to feel my head again. The mist was cool and the air rushing down from the hills whistled through my hair.