If the feasts were all about food, the swayamvar seemed to be all about the liquor brewed in the kingdom’s famed stills. There was no discrimination in this matter between the green rows of the Reshts or the blue galleries of the Drachmas. The same refreshments were served in the grey corridors of the Ksharjas and under the orange canopies of the Namins. In short, everyone was equally drunk. It also seemed to be doing the job of waking the suitors up, considering the swayamvar was being hosted at the auspicious hour before day-break.

King Drupad himself was seated on a wooden platform that jutted out seven manheights from the wall at the end of the arena, where there were no galleries. On either side of the King were the chairs occupied by the Panchal Princes, Satrajit and Dhrishtadyumna. Behind them was a lute-player, playing soft notes into the air. The King’s platform was connected to the door in the wall that led to the Sindh Banking Guildhouse.

The Princess was seated on a makeshift platform constructed below the King’s platform. A flight of steps, carpeted in flowers, led from the arena floor to her feet. Two female guards flanked the Princess on either side, while Krishna sat on a chair behind the Princess, shrouded in the deep shadow cast by the King’s platform above.

At the centre of the arena stood a bronze archway. It was high enough for a small galley to pass through, shaped in the likeness of two stags facing each other, their antlers delicate flakes of spinels and obsidian. Lapis lazuli served as the eyes for one stag, and citrine for the other. The archway itself was studded with rough-cut gems. The stags appeared to be holding up a large wheel between their antlers. A fish was tied to the inner rim of the flat wheel. A rope connected the wheel to a camel. The humped creature slowly plodded round the circumference of the arena, rotating the wheel held between the antlers.

‘Trust humans to complicate things.’ Bhagadatt’s voice startled Shakuni. ‘What should be a simple archery contest has turned into…’

‘A circus?’ Shakuni offered.

The Rakshasa smiled faintly. ‘I’m afraid we have not been properly introduced. I am…’

‘I know who you are,’ Shakuni said. The grey monster of the East. ‘The Great King of the East. I am…’

‘Lord Shakuni. I understand you are the man with a hundred eyes plus one.’

Shakuni gave a resigned shrug. ‘One has to make up for lost legs and teeth. But I am honoured Your Grace knows of me. Pardon me, but would you not rather sit there?’ Shakuni pointed to the gallery beside theirs, where Shalya and Shishupal were seated.

‘Ah no. I believe Archon Kalyavan harbours the suspicion that I used unsavoury means to win a hunting contest last night. He is…’

‘A child,’ Shakuni said.