Why Are All Enchanted Things So Rude?

The three of them stopped at the wide aisle of frozen foods and started taking inventory: black bean soup, lunch rolls, pizzas, bagels, pizza bagels, tripe, codfish, catfish, I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-fish fish. Gross. Aru waited for her perception to change, for magic to prickle on the outside of her vision like television static. But she didn’t feel any different, and her hopes of seeing any magical toilet paper were quickly fading.

“So this is where every Otherworldly person does their shopping?” asked Mini.

“And weapons perusing, apparently,” said Aru.

Not to mention key-to-the-Kingdom-of-Death browsing.

In all of Aru’s previous grocery shopping, she’d never once picked up a gallon of milk and then wandered over to an aisle labeled SHARP DEADLY THINGS. (Unfortunately.)

“The Night Bazaar has had to adapt, change form, and account for things like families moving to new countries and imaginations evolving,” explained Boo.

“So what did it used to look—” Aru started.

“Just read the items,” said Boo, irritated.

Mini yawned. “Fine…more pizza rolls…why do there need to be so many different brands of pizza rolls? Peanut butter sandwiches. Frozen salmon.” She stopped. “Did you know you can get E. coli from salmon? It can kill you.”

Aru, who was shivering from all the refrigeration, scowled. “Anything and everything can kill you, Mini! You don’t need to point it out all the time.”

Mini straightened her shoulders. “My mother always says that knowledge is power. I’m just trying to make us more powerful.”

“And my mother says that ignorance is bliss,” said Aru under her breath.

Muttering the words made her pause, though. Ignorance hadn’t been bliss. Not even close. Bliss meant happiness, but here Aru was, not knowing who she was, where she was, or what she was supposed to do next. Had her mother said that because she had chosen to keep Aru in the dark?

Maybe her mom had done it to protect her. She did that a lot, even though Aru never understood until days (or even months) later. Like the time her mom had tearfully apologized when no one showed up at Aru’s birthday party during third grade. She confessed that she’d accidentally thrown away all the invitations. They spent the day at the movies and had breakfast for dinner instead (which was awesome), but Aru had been furious. It wasn’t until a year later that Aru learned the truth from a classmate. None of the invited kids had wanted to come, so her mom had lied to protect Aru’s feelings.

Aru thought back to Mini’s story about showing up to a birthday party on the wrong date. Mini had no idea how much they had in common….

Mini started to drone on again about the aisle’s offerings. “Frozen waffles, frozen pancakes, frozen stars, frozen wings, frozen—”

“Wait a sec…” started Aru.

Mini’s eyes became unfocused. “Frozen prophecies, frozen orreries, frozen gold, frozen lead—”

Aru looked around, trying to see signs of magic. Slowly, her vision changed. The supermarket faded. The cement floor transformed to packed earth. The fluorescent ceiling lights stopped flickering.

Her bones felt heavy. She grew sleepy.

And then…then it was like dozing off in class. One moment of perfect, heavy-lidded happiness.

That was ruined by the sound of a bell.

Except it wasn’t a bell; it was a loud squawking sound that came from overhead. The warehouse ceiling was gone, and a bird soared in the sky above them. Its wide wings were the color of evening turning into nighttime. Half of the sky was sunlit; half of it was moonlit.

“Whoa,” breathed Mini.

It looked as if someone had taken an ancient marketplace and squashed it together with a modern grocery store. Beyond a pane of glass, aisles stretched far ahead in every direction. From what Aru could see, they held a combination of shelves, displays, small shops, and tents. One shop sold strange bolts of silk whose patterns looked like spun moonbeams and ribbons of rushing water. Next to it was an Apple Store.

There were still metal grocery carts, but they were…alive. The metal grilles curved up and down like mouths, and an extra set of handles slanted like eyebrows. When someone came near them, tiny spikes of metal rolled up and down the grocery cart like bristling fur. They seemed a bit feral. A couple of them growled. One woman with a snake tail cursed loudly as she wrestled with her cart. Finally, when she took hold of its bright red bar with both hands, it gave in and allowed itself to be steered by the triumphant naga woman.

Three glowing signs hovered in the distance, but Aru couldn’t read what they said. When she started walking toward them, she felt a sharp nip on her ear.

“Stay in line!” said Boo.

Only then did Aru realize they were in a long line in front of the entrance to the Night Bazaar, which glimmered on the other side of a pane of glass.

“This is absurd,” said the naga in front of her. The snake woman turned to her husband, her cobra hood flaring. “I’m going to miss my haircut appointment. It took me months to book.”

Her husband sighed. As he did, a forked tongue flicked out of his mouth. He rubbed the back of his head and sank lower into the bronze coils of his tail.

“It’s a different world, jaani,” he said. “Less safe. Less secure. Plus, there’s rumors that none of the gods can find their vehicles—”

Mini pulled on Aru’s sleeve. “Did you hear that?”

“Obviously, Mini. I’m standing right here.”

Mini blushed. “Do you think they know about the Sl—”

Before she could finish, Boo pecked her hand. The warning on his face was clear: Don’t say his name.

“The You-Know-Who?” she whispered.

“He’s not Voldemort!”

“Well, I don’t know what else to call him!”

Aru knew better than to mention the Sleeper in the Night Bazaar. It would probably be the equivalent of shouting Fire! in a theater. Everyone here was clearly on guard. A frantic kind of energy was coming off the crowd, as if they were all waiting for something to go terribly wrong. Aru even caught a couple of muffled conversations:

“—the world is simply stopping. Whole groups of people and neighborhoods just utterly frozen! But the pattern makes no sense! Some place in the southeastern United States, another in a strip mall in the Midwest?”

“I’m sure there’s a good reason—”

“The mortals are befuddled….”

Aru tried to shrink. If anyone looked at her, would they see her guilt? All she’d done was light a lamp that everyone thought was going to get lit anyway (just maybe not so soon…). It felt almost cartoonish, like someone throwing a tiny snowball at a mountain and causing an avalanche.

The line moved quickly. Within minutes, the three of them were standing before a muscular man with the head of a bull. Aru recognized this type of Otherworld person from the paintings in the museum. He was a raksha. Aru almost panicked. But not all demons were bad. It was one of the things she liked best when her mother told her the stories: villains could be heroic, and heroes could do evil. Makes you wonder who the villains really are, her mother used to say. Everyone has a bit of good and bad in them.

The raksha regarded them with bored black eyes. “Empty your pockets, please. Take off anything remotely enchanted and place it in the bins at your left.”

A couple of crystal baskets floated to the left of them. On the right was a conveyer belt that looked like it was made from molten gold. Straight ahead curved a sparkling archway that reminded Aru of the body scanners at airports.

“If you happen to be carrying a miniature universe, please place it in one of the baskets on the right. If it is unregistered, a Devourer of Worlds will eliminate it. If you would like to make a complaint, don’t bother. And if you are a cursed being or under an enchanted form, please notify me prior to stepping through security.”

Mini was the first to go through. She placed the compact in one of the glass baskets. She was about to walk through when the raksha raised a hand.

“Backpack,” he said.

Mini handed it over. She was sweating and pale-faced. “Whatever’s in there isn’t mine,” she said. “It’s my brother’s.”

“That’s what they all say,” the raksha said, sifting through the contents.

He shook it upside down over the counter. Out spilled a sleeve of Oreos (Aru felt an indignant flare of YOU-HAD-THOSE-THE-WHOLE-TIME? feelings), a first-aid kit, a roll of gauze, a bunch of Boy Scout key chains (which made Aru raise her eyebrow), and the wrapped sprig of youth. The raksha scanned them with his eyes as he listened to someone talking in his earpiece. Then he pressed a small button on the lapel of his jacket and muttered, “Copy that. No sign of the godly mounts.” He swiped the contents back into Mini’s backpack and handed it to her. “Next.”

Boo fluttered to his shoulder and whispered in his ear. The raksha’s eyes widened for a moment.

“Sorry to hear that, mate. That’s some rough luck. You may proceed.”

Boo harrumphed and soared through the gate.

Next was Aru. She put the golden Ping-Pong ball in the basket and stepped forward, only to have the raksha stick out his hand.

“Shoes off as per Otherworld Transportation Security Guidelines.”

She grumbled, took off her shoes, and placed them in a bin. She stepped forward, only to have the raksha stop her. Again.

“Miss, are those your feet?”

“Are you serious?”

“Does this job look like something that encourages humor?”

Aru considered this. “No.”

“Then yes, I’m inquiring as to whether those are, in fact, your feet. You will notice on the board to your left that any removable body parts, yours or otherwise, must be registered as per Otherworld Transportation Security Guidelines.”

“Dude, these are my feet. It’s not like I’m hiding cloven hooves.”

“Why did you specify cloven hooves?”

“It’s just a joke! That’s what we say in Georgia when we don’t like someone! And then we add Bless your heart after!”

The raksha spoke into his lapel again. “Yup. Copy. Potentially small, unregistered demon.” Then, after listening to his earpiece: “Nope. Unthreatening.” He looked at her. “You may pass.”

Aru felt insulted. I can totally be threatening! But now was definitely not the time. She stepped through and glared at the raksha until he handed back her ball.

“Welcome to the Night Bazaar,” he said. “On behalf of the gods and storytellers around the world, we hope you leave with your life intact and your imagination brimming.”

Now that she’d stepped through the archway opening, the Night Bazaar truly unfolded around her. The half-torn sky of day and night glistened. And the smells. Aru wanted to roll around in them forever. It smelled like popcorn dripping with butter, cookie-dough ice cream, and fresh-spun cotton candy. She made her way to Mini and Boo, her head whipping back and forth so fast trying to see everything—the trees that weren’t made of bark at all, but glass; the stores that seemed to literally chase after clientele—that she almost tripped.

“It’s something else,” said Mini, grinning. “And it smells so good. Like a book! Or vanilla!”

Aru was about to ask if Mini’s nose was working right, but Mini kept talking.

“Only my brother has seen this place, but I don’t think he remembers it.”

“Your brother? Why?”

Mini’s face turned as red as a tomato. “They thought he was the Pandava brother…not me.”

“When did they find out it was actually you?”

Mini turned even redder, now looking like a tomato’s mutant cousin.

“Last week?” she said, squeaking on the word week. “Pandavas are supposed to sense danger and sometimes even react to it before they have full control of their abilities. Every time my brother did something that we thought was a miracle, I guess it was actually me doing it, because I was nearby and got scared, too. Last week, our car skidded into a ditch on the side of the road on the way to my brother’s track meet. I must’ve freaked out or something, because I…I lifted the whole car.”

“You what? I wanna do that!”

Mini looked horrified. “Really?”

“Mini, you lifted a car, when you’re so small that I don’t think you even register on—”

“Okay, okay. Geez, I get it.” She sounded annoyed, but Aru could see the small smile lifting up the corners of her mouth.

As impressed as Aru was, she also felt bad. Mini hadn’t been lying when she said the backpack wasn’t hers. It was meant to be her brother’s, when he went off on his quest.

Now Aru understood why Mini was so hesitant about everything. Not once had Mini been taught to think that maybe she was supposed to be the hero.

“Imagine what your family will say when they wake up and realize you saved the world!” said Aru.

Mini beamed.

Boo fluttered to Aru’s shoulder. “Come along. We need to find the Court of the Seasons. I know it’s in here somewhere…” he said.

“And the second key, right?” said Mini.

Aru glanced at the mehndi design on the side of her hand. The symbol for the second key was a book. But there were no bookstalls in sight.

“You move so slowly,” scolded Boo. “And your posture has gotten worse. I don’t know how such things are possible.”

“You’re so grumpy,” said Mini. “Maybe your blood sugar is low.” She fished around in her backpack. “Here, have an Oreo.”

“I don’t want an—”

But Mini broke the cookie into small pieces and shoved a bite into his beak. Boo looked outraged for about five seconds before he finally swallowed it.

“What ambrosia is this?” He smacked his beak. “Gimme more.”

“Say please.”

“No.”

Mini fed him part of an Oreo anyway.

As they made their way into the bazaar, Aru could finally read the three huge signs pointing down the three main paths through the market:

“Well, we need to get our armor and the second key…so the second sign?” Aru guessed.

Boo nodded, and off they went. Around them family clusters streamed toward the three paths. The signs floated above the ground, completely unsupported and shaped like giant ribbons with hanging tassels. The round, scalloped ends of the tassels reminded Aru of cat paws.

As Aru, Mini, and Boo got closer to THINGS YOU NEED, the sign started moving. It skirted around the edges of a shop that sold laptops and computer wiring. They jumped and lunged at the sign, trying to catch it. But the sign kept scooting out of reach. It was dodging them.

“Hey! We’re not playing!” shouted Aru.

But the sign wouldn’t listen. It moved behind a pack of empty grocery carts. The carts swiveled on their wheels in unison, like a herd of antelope. The sign sneezed and the grocery carts scattered off in a huff.

“Why is it making this so difficult?” grumbled Mini. She had almost walked into a family of tortoise-shelled beings.

Boo flapped his wings. “You can’t just ask for things you need. You have to chase them down! Make yourself known as a worthy recipient! I’ll distract it. Then it’s up to you two.”

Boo strutted back and forth in front of the sign, as though he didn’t care about it. The sign gradually lowered itself to the ground. It reminded Aru of the way a cat oozes down from a couch, curious to investigate. Boo walked faster and turned a corner.

The sign bent around to see where he had gone…and Boo jumped out at it.

“GOTCHA!” he shouted.

The sign whirled. It arched like a Halloween cat. When it had its back to Aru and Mini, they crept forward. Aru slunk behind a palm tree, which hissed, “You have no manners, child!” Mini brought out her compact mirror and pulled out an illusion of a candy.

“Heeeeere, sign!” she cooed, waving it around. “Come here, sign! Come here!”

The second the sign turned, Aru ran up and caught it by one of its dangling tassels. Instantly, the sign went limp. It puddled onto the floor, forming a circle. The circle telescoped into a tunnel. Amethyst steps spiraled down into the dark. Boo perched on Aru’s head and looked down the shaft.

“Ladies first.”