Bhurishravas laughed. ‘I have been waiting to see it happen again, but Father discourages her.’

‘It isn’t nice to insult Namins, no matter how much they deserve it,’ the old King said, suddenly turning his head. Lord Ketu of Malla had approached to sit beside them, but on encountering Bahlika’s stern gaze, he turned tail and went to the next row of seats, sulking.

Bhurishravas laughed and turned to Karna. ‘As I was saying, Duryodhan and his mace, you with your bow, father with his ledger statement, and I with my morning star... we will make sure the Kauravas win every Princess in Aryavrat, so they can do away with swayamvars altogether.’

Just then, Shishupal climbed the steps to join their ranks. He cast an eye towards Lord Ketu, unsure whether he himself ought to be there. Probably not. ‘Prince Bhurishravas, my thanks for inviting me to your gallery,’ Shishupal said, bowing.

‘Of course, lad. It doesn’t make sense for you to have that old grump for company any longer than you need. Withdrew your name, did you?’

Shishupal nodded, red-faced. ‘My skill is with the sword, Prince. With a bow, I might end up shooting the Princess.’

‘Why are the Emperor’s sons not here?’ Bahlika asked.

‘Erm…’ Shishupal glanced at Shakuni before turning to the old man. ‘Your Grace, Prince Saham Dev isn’t as interested in athletic endeavours as the Emperor. So, the Emperor desired the Prince to remain in Magadh to look after affairs of the Empire in his absence. I believe the Emperor seeks a more traditional betrothal for him.’

‘No need to sugarcoat it, lad,’ said Bahlika. ‘We are all aware of the rotten egg. Prudent of the Emperor to bring you here in his stead.’

‘Much good that did! I’m just glad Princess Vahura isn’t here. She would have left no opportunity unsought to embarrass me. There was this time…’

‘When she made an Acharya weep!’ Sudama chirped.

‘I see the tyke here knows everything.’ Shishupal tickled Sudama in the ribs and the boy’s innocent laughter filled the gallery, doing more good to Shakuni’s spirits than the goblet in his hand.

A hundred conch shells sounded, and the entertainers stopped performing in their suspended cages. A blanket of silence fell over the arena. Drupad rose.

‘And so it begins,’ Shishupal whispered morosely.

‘Kings and Lords, Paladins and Princes,’ Drupad spread his arms wide, ‘I welcome you all to the noble city of Kampilya. I thank you for honouring us with your gracious presence this week. The moment of reckoning, however, is now upon us. I therefore declare the swayamvar of Draupadi, Princess of Panchal, open to all. May the best man win!’

A hundred tiny mirrors installed on the ceiling, turned together to reflect the light of the rising sun onto Draupadi. It was apparent none had thought to inform her of the arrangement. She blinked her eyes, trying to focus through the blinding brightness. The loud cheers from the stands were drowned in the beating of the big drums, their wide rims covered with hide, stretched taut.