Prince Satrajit rose and lifted a hand. The arena shuddered as if an earthquake had struck. The tremors sloshed some of the wine from Shakuni’s goblet onto his thighs. Perfect. Unseen hands pulled a dozen ropes and the centre of the arena split apart to reveal a small lower level under the bronze archway. There stood a large brass container, filled with water, on the surface of which could be seen the reflection of the rotating wheel and fish above.

‘What in the name of Vayu is that?’ Bhurishravas asked.

All those assembled had the same question on their lips as they craned their necks to see, brows furrowed in surprise.

‘He means for the contestant’s arrow to hit the fish on the revolving wheel,’ said Bahlika, who had been an archer of renown in his younger days, though seeing him now it was impossible to imagine he had ever been young. He had more wrinkles that a sack of prunes, and looked like he had been born that way.

‘It’s a modification of the Isle of Mirrors,’ Karna said, thinking aloud. ‘The archer has to look at the reflection of an object and hit the target. Only here, the target involves a fish on a revolving wheel at a height of more than two hundred hands, where the air current more than the arrow itself, will determine the hit. And the fish is not reflected in clear glass but in the murky waters below.’

Bahlika nodded. ‘Made trickier as the archer must stand on the artificial surface, and not next to the water.’

‘Why would that be an issue?’ Shishupal asked.

‘Because the archer will have three relative heights of the fish to consider – the actual height, the height as ascertainable from the water, and the relative height of the archer from the bowl and the wheel. Quite ingenuous,’ Karna admitted in evident admiration.

Soon enough, the announcer confirmed the rules of the contest, exactly as Karna had described. The challenge was onerous enough. King Drupad apparently did not think so, for the bow to be used had to be carried into the arena by five strong men, and carefully placed on a table. It was unstrung. A bowstring lay coiled beside it. The bow was reflex, curving away from the archer when unstrung. It had to be inverted to string it into the classic shape, and hence required great strength.

‘There is something nefarious going on with the bow, is it not, Karna?’ Bahlika asked, squinting at the table on which it lay.

‘Aye.’ Karna eyed the bow like a jeweller investigating for impurities in a gem. ‘It is a composite bow made of different constituents, but quite unlike any I have seen. Bows are usually made from a combination of horn, sinew, softened bone and wood. But this one has significant chunks of iron in it, making it terrifyingly heavy to lift, let alone string and shoot. And I do not think the arrow is any simpler. It is significantly disproportionate to the length of the bow, and made of weak wood, which is prone to warping over distances.’