‘There are no separate food stalls for Reshts, Namins and Ksharjas,’ Karna observed.

‘More food for us then,’ Sudama smiled, nodding in understanding beyond his years.

Karna ruffled his nephew’s hair and looked about awkwardly. All around him men and women of note were spearing delicious morsels with dainty prongs and chewing with elegant precision. While there may have been a common banquet table for all castes, Karna had never before thought that there was a higher-caste-way of eating food. He now realized his mistake. There were no separate stalls because no one anticipated a Resht amidst the guests.

Karna saw an old man with a thin mane of silver white hobbling along doggedly with the aid of a son and a cane to meet Duryodhan, who had been talking to Lord Dharmeyu of Sivi and his son Lord Niarkat, of Mathura. The son had curious blue skin.

‘King Bahlika the Ancient,’ Shakuni explained as he joined Karna. ‘Said to be the oldest King in the realm. Believe it or not, he is Uncle to the White Eagle.’

Karna gasped. ‘That would make him…’

‘Ancient, aye. He was in line to the Hastina throne but love took him to the exotic West. Don’t be fooled by the colour of his hair. He may be half-blind but has the sharpest foresight. Sometimes I suspect he is an Oracle. He has won more wars than Hastina has seen, without shedding a single drop of blood.’

‘How so?

‘Economic warfare, they call it; bankrupts kingdoms instead of bombarding them, and spits in the name of all Ksharjas. The one beside Bahlika is his son, Bhurishravas. He has the traditional Balkhan blue skin colour. I think you have met his granddaughter, Vahura.’

‘Only in passing. She’s a scholar, I hear.’ Vahura had been more interested in the alchemical properties of the breastplate attached to Karna’s skin. ‘I remember Arjun made an open wager that he could bed her.’

‘That boy does like to sow his seed around,’ Shakuni said. ‘If you must know, she wasn’t interested in him. On the contrary, she was more interested in the female spy I had planted in her household.’

Karna gave Shakuni a shocked look, praying Sudama had been too busy looking at the food to pay attention.

Shakuni shrugged. ‘Don’t be a prude. Ah, I see Lord Shalya Madrin. A member of the Eight. I envy him. He has made a glorious and rich career from war without once stepping onto a battlefield.’

Karna had met Lord Shalya in one of the feasts earlier. Grandfather of King Pandu’s two youngest sons, Sahadev and Nakul, he always looked like he had been forced into his clothes, his pink jowls bulging over the gilded collar of his lilac robes. ‘Let me guess…economic warfare too?’

‘Not at all. He…erm, exports it. A war broker if you will. They say he brought in the Greek Warlord, that one in the strange saree beside Shalya, to the Emperor’s cause. He is Kalyavan, Archon of the Yavanas.’