Shakuni had barely recognized Karna when he strode in. The shy man of the evening before, clad in unostentatious raiment, was gone, replaced by a warrior with a golden half-sleeved plate over lean-muscled arms that made one yearn for some talent with a paintbrush. Shakuni had also noticed the puppy glances Karna had cast at the Princess. His face revealed his state of mind as clear as an autobiography. The lad was hopelessly in love. Draupadi on the other hand, was a different story. Shakuni could not quite gauge her feelings, for her inscrutable face was clearly a work of fiction.

‘Ah, the day breaks,’ Shakuni said, noticing the first glimmers of dawn through the coloured glass of the semicircular windows.

For some reason, Bhagadatt visibly tensed. ‘I fear I may be suffering from the same ailment as Duryodhan,’ he lamented. ‘I wish Hastina good fortune, and hope there will be future economic ventures between our kingdoms.’ Bhagadatt bowed and hurried off without waiting for Shakuni to answer.

Shakuni frowned at this sudden departure and the feigned ailment. Shaking his head, he made his way to where Karna sat with Sudama.

‘You look tired Uncle Shakuni,’ Sudama said.

‘Lord Shakuni will do, boy,’ Shakuni mumbled without malice. Despite his misgivings about Karna, he liked Sudama. He was a good-hearted lad. His unruly hair curled over his forehead, constantly annoying his bright eyes. For some reason he reminded Shakuni of himself as a boy – naïve, foolish, and utterly clueless. He softened. ‘Just jitters before the tournament,’ Shakuni lied. ‘Have you seen the other stalwarts present here? Everyone a mighty knight in their own right.’

‘They are nothing. I know my Uncle will win!’ Sudama’s eyes shone with pride.

Before Karna could respond, another voice boomed behind them, ‘I sure hope so, for I have put my wager on him.’ The ancient King Bahlika limped in, with his son Bhurishravas in tow.

Karna immediately rose and bowed. ‘It is an honour to meet the grandest of all Kauravas, Your Grace.’

Shakuni half rose and bowed too, with difficulty.

‘He means the oldest when he says grandest, Father,’ Bhurishravas said. The Balkhan had waxed his greying moustache into great curves. ‘My nephew did speak at great length about your skill with the bow, Karna. Lucky for you it is an archery contest. Were it a melee,’ he laughed condescendingly, ‘none could have stood against a Balkhan.’

‘And here I thought none could stand against a Balkhan where ledgers and stock certificates are concerned,’ Shakuni remarked dryly.

‘They are indeed our more subtle weapons,’ Bhurishravas conceded cheekily. ‘Why destroy the enemy when you can use him? Do you not agree, Lord Shakuni?’

‘I see your sister Vahura, has been training you in the art of quick retort, Prince,’ Shakuni smirked at the Balkhan. Of all the Kauravas in the extended family, he disliked Bhurishravas the least. ‘I wish she was here to liven things up. This swayamvar is much too dull for my taste. The last time I saw Vahura, she had just made an Acharya weep.’