“They’ve stopped shooting,” said one of her surviving officers.

“Enough men have died for my pride,” said Virlomi. “May the dead forgive me. I will live a thousand lives to make up for this one vain, stupid day.” She raised her voice. “Lay down your weapons. Virlomi says: Lay down your weapons and stand up with your hands in the air. Take no more lives! Lay down your weapons!”

“We will die for you, Mother India!” cried one of the men.

“Satyagraha!” shouted Virlomi. “Bear what must be borne! Today what you must bear is surrender! Mother India commands you to live so you can go home and comfort your wives and make babies to heal the great wounds that have been torn in the heart of India today!”

Some of her words and all of the meaning of her message were passed up and down the highway of corpses.

She set the example by raising her hands and walking out beyond the wall of bodies, into the open. Of course no one shot at her, because no one had during the whole battle. But soon others joined her. They lined up on the same side of the corpse wall that she had chosen, leaving their weapons behind them.

From out of the trees on both sides of the highway, wary Thai soldiers emerged, guns still at the ready. They were covered with sweat and the frenzy of killing was only just leaving them.

Virlomi turned and looked behind her. Emerging from the trees on the other side of the road was Suriyawong. She walked back over the walls of corpses to meet him in the grass on the other side. They stopped when they were three paces apart.

She gestured up and down the road. “So. This is your work.”

“No, Virlomi,” he said sadly. “It’s yours.”

“Yes,” she said. “I know.”

“Will you come with me to tell the other two armies to stop fighting? They’ll only give up when you tell them to.”

“Yes,” she said. “Now?”

“Phone them and see if they obey. If I try to lead you away right now, these soldiers will take up arms again to stop me. For some reason they still worship you.”

“In India we worship the Destroyer along with Vishnu and Brahma.”

“But I never knew that you served Shiva,” said Suriyawong.

She had no answer for him. She used her cellphone and made the calls. “They’re trying to stop the men from fighting.”

Then there was silence between them for a while. She could hear the barked commands of the Thai soldiers, forming her men into small groups and beginning their march down the valley.

“Aren’t you going to ask about your husband?” said Suri.

“What about him?”

“Are you so sure your Muslim co-conspirators killed him, then?”

“Nobody was going to kill him,” she said. “They were only going to confine him until after the victory.”

Suri laughed bitterly. “You spent this long fighting the Muslims, Vir, and you still don’t understand them any better than that? This isn’t a chess game. The person of the king is not sacred.”