But Anayasa’s final flourish had been her information that the Senate was inflicting Vachans on its citizens to bind them to secrecy. That was why Shishupal had not heard a word about the mysterious journeys the Mathurans had been going on in herds. The calculation of the sheer amount of coin it would have taken to carry out such a mass execution of Vachans, made Shishupal’s head hurt. Unfortunately, Anayasa could not tell them where the people were heading to. Was Krishna scouting for new allies? Or was he assembling a secret weapon for which he needed parts? Whatever it was, Shishupal knew he had to unravel the secret before the Armistice ended.

‘We aren’t going to meet Gajraj, are we?’ Shishupal remarked when they set out from the inn on the second day. ‘Didn’t you hear Anayasa? He runs the smuggling scam around Mathura with a gang of thugs in the city. He lost both his sons to Jarasandh. Why would he help us? I think we should target a crony of his.’

‘Pain is a great motivator, friend. Does Shishupal notice anything different about this city?’

‘Huh?’ Shishupal frowned, looking around. No traffic. Disciplined streets. Not too many people on the road. He had always heard Mathura was choking with people. This barely seemed a hiccup. ‘Must be some feast day. I wager the Third District is a lot more crowded. Why?’

Eklavvya hummed to himself, ignoring Shishupal’s question as they crossed the street to the door of a tavern in Noble Avenue. The sign Ahalya’s Retreat was etched on it in red. Two guards frowned at them sourly.

‘Good day to you, my friends. We are here to speak to Gajraj,’ intoned Eklavvya pleasantly.

‘If you carry any weapons, stow them here,’ one of the guards said in a flat monotone. ‘If we find anything when we check, we will shove it up your arse.’

‘Look, it’s just a boy, Mashru.’ The other guard ruffled Eklavvya’s waving hair and then grimaced. As he drew his fingers away, Shishupal saw they were smeared with something yellow and sticky. ‘What the…’

‘Pigeon eggs,’ Eklavvya said cheerfully. ‘Warmed in the hair for good luck.’

‘Forest freak!’ muttered the defiled guard, hastily wiping his hand on his coat.

‘Serves you right for touching his hair,’ the one called Mashru said. ‘What’ve you got to say to Lord Gajraj?’ he asked the visitors.

‘Olof would start with ‘How goes it with you, Gajraj’?’

‘You think you’re funny?’ The guard put one hand on the dagger hanging from his belt.

‘We made money here in our trades,’ Shishupal butted in. ‘We felt like spending it.’

‘Maybe start with that when you speak to Lord Gajraj.’ He patted Eklavvya and Shishupal down thoroughly. ‘Follow me. Not carrying any other sharp thing, are you?’

‘Nothing apart from Olof’s wit,’ Eklavvya said.