‘I can trust my colleagues with my life,’ the man answered.

‘And you will surely forfeit it if you do not find who was responsible.’

The Mist nodded. Shakuni turned to look at the prisoner again. ‘We have to take him to Lord Bheeshma’s office in a few hours. Before that, I want my answers. Water.’

The Mist went to the corner, picked up a bucket and flung the contents into the prisoner’s face. The prisoner coughed, shook his head, flicking droplets from his sun-gold hair. He tried to stand but the chains around him rattled, snatching him back down to his chair.

‘Torture is a subtle art, Daeva,’ said Shakuni to his guest. ‘Its purpose is never to kill. Murder is anathema to the science of torture, and Vayu knows I am no murderer.’

The Mist brought forth a wooden chair and Shakuni wearily sat down upon it, moaning as pain once again spread through his body. He looked up. ‘I do apologize for the untimely death of your friends, but well, they did resist arrest and killed fifteen of my guards. I assure you that I will do everything in my power to let you live the remainder of your immortal life. But perhaps not in the way you imagined.’ The Daeva continued to stare lifelessly at him. ‘Unless of course, we become friends.’

The Daeva said not a word.

‘I know you understand our language. So why do you not tell me why the fuck have you come back?’

Silence. The strange eyes of the Daeva glowed.

Shakuni let out a weary sigh. What an exotic creature! He felt an unfamiliar surge of shame rise within him that the Daeva had to be treated this way. The beauty of a tiger vanishes when his paws are dug into your neck. Better chained than clawed. ‘I’ll let you in on a secret, Daeva. I thought as you do now when they captured me. I was determined not to speak, even when they began slicing my leg. My determination faltered a little when they broke my teeth. And by the time they tore off my nails, I told them whatever I knew. I made up lies to tell them more! I gave up every secret of my army, every tunnel, every stratagem, everything... Still, it did not work.’

Shakuni made a humming sound as the Mist laid out his tools. ‘But they did prove to be excellent teachers, for their emphasis…’ Shakuni opened his mouth to reveal his broken teeth, ‘lay in practical lessons. So, if you think you will not talk when I start with you, I assure you, my friend, by the time I am done, you will sing.’

A guttural sound came from the Davea’s throat, like the low incipient growl of a lion.

‘Well, that’s a start.’

III

The Daevas were said to be beings born out of Light, gone eons ago. Acharya Kripa, however, believed they never existed at all. So Shakuni could safely claim no living man had ever seen a Daeva. And yet here he was, torturing one.