Storm exchanged a look with the others. They shrugged. ‘Who is this other one?’ she asked, spitting to one side.

The man beside him was as straight as a spear, lean-muscled, with a heavy beard. For some reason, Draupadi thought his face looked familiar though she could not quite place him.

A tense moment passed before the trader answered, ‘His name is Pal. He isn’t as loquacious as this charming one before you.’ He pointed to himself. ‘Just a guard to safeguard this one’s humble life, madams,’ he said. ‘Highway robbers are a real menace. One needs a couple of swords if one is to—’

‘Aye, a sellsword,’ Bleed cut him off. ‘A ruffian through and through.’ She licked her lips. ‘I like ruffians.’

‘Bleed, ain’t no time for chatter,’ Storm growled. She turned towards the trader. ‘Where are you from?’

‘Born in Kauntiyas. But a trader belongs to no kingdom in my humble opinion. From the God-Kings of Egypt to the savages of the Pragjyotisha, he belongs to all.’

‘That’s obvious enough,’ Storm snapped. ‘Thing is, Kauntiyas is now in Magadhan hands, and these hills are Mathuran lands.’

‘Olof is aware Kauntiyas has been welcomed into the Magadhan Empire.’

‘You hear that, Rain?’ Storm grinned.

Draupadi knew Kauntiyas had been sacked by the Magadhans in Jarasandh’s early days of conquest.

‘That’s a good one. A fiery welcome it was indeed,’ snorted Storm. ‘Now to business. You were using the goat path to enter our city, avoiding the gate fees. That’s all fair and well, but the goat path carries its own charge.’

‘Of course, of course… we shall pay whatever you levy in your wise and just discretion.’

‘Hundred marks!’

‘Oh my!’ the trader shrieked. His eyes shifted nervously. ‘We intend to contest such corruption, my ladies…this tyranny of tolls. Perhaps, you can consider five marks as a fairer sum? The times of war have been hard on us, and an honest trader needs to conserve his coin to live.’

Storm stared at the man for a long moment, a faint frown wrinkling her dusty brow. ‘Fifty, and I do not cut off your head.’

‘How about twenty-five, and Olof parts with a finger? For if you take fifty, you might as well take Olof’s heart.’

Storm eyed the man, the dark face with its deep-set eyes. ‘Thirty,’ she said with finality.

‘Very well,’ agreed Olof, ‘if only to not acquaint you fair ladies with the vagaries of protracted negotiation and bartering. A dirty business that—’

‘Stop yammering and pay up.’ Storm held out a hand.

Before the trader could set off on another monologue, Pal stepped up and handed the coins to Storm.

‘Now, off with you. And keep our trade to yourself if you get caught by the City Guard, or I’ll have your head.’

‘Of course, of course. We bid thee farewell. We will perhaps meet again.’

Once the two had left, Rain accosted Storm. ‘Should you have let them go? They could be spies for all you know. Or assassins.’