The Mosquito and the Lion

eight

If Arjun never saw another horse again in his life, he would not complain.

They had been riding on end for two days now, and every muscle screamed at him to stop. His joints cracked whenever he moved, and he could barely sit down without grunting with effort. He felt like an old man.

Still, he fed his noble steed a few sugar cubes, running his other hand along the horse's coat, brushing out any tangles with his fingers. "You did good, boy," he whispered. "I'll see you soon, promise."

When the stallion finished off the last of the sugar cubes, Arjun motioned for the stable boy to take him away. Having arrived in Purti, they no longer needed the horses. They would have to traverse the caves via foot if they hoped to stand a chance.

Navigate a labyrinth. Track a girl with the Gods' blood. And somehow keep Rahul and Vidya from killing each other. Unbelievably, all of those tasks seemed nigh impossible.

Rahul and Vidya were out looking for an inn for the night. They planned to stay a few days in Purti, digging up any information about the princess. If luck were on their side, they would capture her in the city, never having to step foot on those treacherous mountains.

Arjun knew he should head straight for the room. But that would mean listening to Rahul and Vidya bicker, and he had no interest in that. So instead, he lingered in the city, taking in the sights and sounds and — ugh — smells.

Purti was a bustling city. An evening bazaar had set up shop on its main street. Brightly colored awnings of reds, oranges, greens, and pinks stretched out as far as the eye could see. Within the market, peddlers thrust their wares in his face.

"Authentic carpets from Koloe!" screamed a shopkeeper, rolled up rugs behind him, all with fraying edges and faded design. "Two-for-one sale!"

An old woman with graying hair and harsh lines around her eyes shoved herself into his path, a bouquet of blue poppies in her hands. She leered up at him, gaps in her rotting smile. "A flower for a loved one?" she crooned, shoving them in his face. He could smell the citrus and sweet scents commingling the air.

"No thank you," he muttered, shoving past her. He felt claustrophobic in the market, the noises overwhelming him. It was always so peaceful in Yadav, where you woke with the sounds of the birds chirping and roosters crowing. Even in the Palace, a sense of serenity permeated the walls.

Not in Maurya, where chaos reigned. All around him, money exchanged hands with a frenetic speed, and yet it seemed to help no one.

Finally, he escaped the bazaar, able to breathe again. The panic subsiding, he tried to find some beauty in Maurya, but he could find none. He glanced around the street. It was nearing twilight, yet people still milled in the area, laughing amongst themselves. Did none of them see the beggars on the corners, desperate for alms?

He fished into his satchel, pulling out a few Mauryan coins. Slowly, he approached a young child, who could not have been older than seven. His face covered in dirt, his ribs showing through his tattered tunic, the boy eyed Arjun warily.

"Here." Arjun placed the coins in the boy's hand. "Take it."

The child did not say anything, only cocking his head to the side as he studied him. Then, he closed his fist around the coins and scurried up a drainpipe and out of sight. Arjun did not know what he expected, but he certainly felt better having done something.

"You're not from here, huh?" A girl had materialized next to him. She wore a pale purple salwar and a cropped cotton blouse. Her black hair, thick and coarse, cascaded down her back in unruly waves, but Arjun could not tear his gaze away from her eyes.