Aru knew better than to say YUP.
“Well, it wasn’t pretty,” said Tumburu, scratching the end of his muzzle. “I think they had to bury me alive?”
Rudy looked horrified.
“I don’t remember much of that existence, to be fair,” said Tumburu. He waved his hands, and the television screens returned to live coverage of the Final Stage auditions. “What I do remember, however, is the curious beauty of the mortal lands. The poetry of thunderstorms. The song of the wind in the trees. The loveliest ragas one could imagine…Why, it was those recollections of my mortal existence that I used to inspire other musicians who won my favor. So I suppose even the worst moments in one’s existence have some purpose.”
Tumburu’s words wound through Aru. She wanted so badly to believe that there was a reason they’d lost their weapons and were down to the final days to fix things, but she wasn’t sure what it could be. Brynne had already managed to prove herself, but what about Aru and Mini? And even if Aru succeeded, what would she do with her lightning bolt?
In the back of her head, Lord Agni’s warning words echoed softly. All the weapons in the world cannot help you if you do not know what you’ll do with them. What will you do, Aru Shah?
“So…” said Aiden, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Does that mean you’ll help us win this competition?”
Menaka, who was floating above them, looked down at him. Aiden couldn’t see it, but pride glowed on the apsara’s face. Tumburu leaned forward in his chair. He steepled his hands for a moment and then snapped his fingers. The instruments lifted off the wall one by one and circled the Potatoes. The strings of the sitar began to vibrate. The flutes whistled. The drums began a steady thump, thump, thump. It was all very beautiful and majestic, but also creepy, and Aru had a brief vision of what it might be like to be stalked by a harmonica in the dark….
“Oh, yes,” said Tumburu. “I can see it now….The melody is all coming together. You will be my grand project. You will be the greatest band the world has ever seen—”
Rudy clapped eagerly.
“I will select an instrument for each of you, and forevermore you will be considered a master player of it,” said Tumburu.
Aru’s eyes went wide.
“We are about to break the world with all the talent I shall bestow upon you!” said Tumburu, rising from his chair.
“You mean save the world,” said Aiden.
Tumburu scowled. “Yes, that, too.”
Brynne was the first to be matched with a talent.
Tumburu had her stand in the middle of the small circular stage right across from his mixing board. The original four instruments had been joined by others—an electric guitar, a tambourine, a xylophone, and a keyboard—all floating in the air.
“Do you possess any musical skill?” asked Tumburu, flexing his fingers.
“I play the harp,” said Brynne proudly. “I’m pretty good at it.”
Aru was glad she wasn’t the only one holding back a wince. Mini studied the ground. Even Aiden suddenly looked very preoccupied with the wall.
“She does?” said Rudy. “I’ve never heard—”
Aiden shushed him.
From there, Tumburu’s line of questioning proceeded at rapid-fire pace.
“Favorite color?”
“Blue.”
“Fire or water?”
“Fire,” said Brynne.
“Clean bathrooms or vacuum the house?”
“Vacuum,” said Brynne. “But what does this have to do with—”
“Final question!” said Tumburu, pressing his hands together. “Is cereal a soup?”
This time Aru did wince.
Brynne looked outraged. Wind began to gather around her ankles, ruffling the hem of her shirt and the ends of her hair. “Are you serious? What kind of gastronomic blasphemy—”
“For you, the backbone of the group, your instrument is…” said Tumburu, clapping, “THE TABLA!”
A dozen feet above them, the two-sided hand drum perked up at the sound of its name. It somersaulted in the air toward Brynne. She threw up her arms to block it, but the drum seemed to take that as an invitation and thudded against her palms. A pink light gloved Brynne’s hands, from the tips of her fingers to her wrists, before vanishing.
Brynne frowned. She rotated her wrists. The tabla hovered before her, quivering.
Tentatively, Brynne’s fingers tapped the drum skin—slowly at first, then faster. Her wrist flexed as the rhythm sped up. Aru found herself nodding along to the beat. Even the instruments above them began to sway happily.
“Whoa!” said Brynne, staring at her hands in awe.
The straps on the sides of the drums stretched as if they were grinning.
“Now someone will actually compliment your musical abilities!” said Tumburu.
“I said I could play the harp,” said Brynne.
Tumburu blinked, then repeated, “Now someone will actually compliment your musical abilities!”
Brynne opened her mouth to protest, but Tumburu was already waving his hand to usher her off the stage. “You there! Glasses! Let’s go!”
Mini startled. With a slight hmpf she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and walked to the circular stage.
“Oh yes, I see it now,” said Tumburu, circling her. “You’re the enigma of the band. You’re the mystery! The girl with secrets behind her eyes!”
“Um—”
“It’s settled,” said Tumburu, pointing into the air.
An electric keyboard hovering just above Menaka zipped out a quick scale and snaked toward Mini. The moment her fingers brushed the keys, a bluish light surrounded her hands before sinking into her skin. Mini gasped. She closed her eyes and lifted her hands off the piano before slamming them down. Her digits flew over the ivory, and a wild, beautiful tune filled the air. Aru’s jaw dropped. Mini’s mom had made her take piano lessons, but until now, the only thing Aru had heard Mini play was “Chopsticks.”
“How long do these blessings last?” asked Aru enviously.
Brynne shrugged and looked at Aiden, but it wasn’t he who answered.
“A blessing given from the apsaras lasts forever,” said Menaka.
The whole time Tumburu was working his magic, the apsara hadn’t said much. She floated just shy of close to Aiden. While Aiden was watching Tumburu and the instruments, Aru noticed that his grandmother looked like she wanted to start talking at any moment. In the end, though, Menaka stayed silent. Maybe she thought that would be the wiser thing to do.
The idea saddened Aru. She thought of all the times she’d wished that she and her mom had said things out loud. Maybe if they had, things would be different now. As a former (and rather excellent) liar herself, Aru knew that, sometimes, speaking the truth felt like wrenching a thorn out of your side. But doing the opposite meant pretending it wasn’t there. And that made every single step ache.
It was no way to live.
“Good, good,” said Tumburu, ushering Mini off the stage. He stretched his neck from one side to the other, tossing his mane behind him, and then pointed at Rudy. “I suppose you’re the next one in need of some musical talent?”