Krishna felt exhausted. He had been overseeing the inflow of citizens from the Second District into the First, and the Third into the Second, but he had not been prepared for what he saw in the Third. He rode past the destroyed Dreamstone Spire, past the Third Sister, to where Balram stood, facing the red cloaks in the horizon. He was clad from head to feet in gilded scale armour, and looked like a gigantic fish standing on its tail.

Krishna swung down from the saddle, and walked to his brother. ‘The tempest has brought us luck,’ he said, his voice reduced to a gravely croak from the onslaught of ash, smoke and death.

‘Aye,’ Balram responded. Resentment oozed from him like a cow that hasn’t been milked. But he said nothing, letting the silence, the words unsaid, prickle at Krishna’s conscience, as if it wasn’t sufficiently armed to do the harm all by itself.

How could he have known Kalyavan would betray the Emperor? If he had, he would not have sent away half the Mathuran Army to secure Dvarka, now, would he? He was not stupid. This was…an aberration, a chance occurrence of monstrous proportions he could not have factored in, could he? Could I have…

No, Krishna could not blame himself for the five patrolling squads who were ambushed outside the Walls by the Greeks, who had hidden in the dense forest cover on either side of the road. Or be blamed for the stormy night had disguised their advance. They had taken the sentry columns in both the rear and the flanks. After that, the dead Mathurans had been stripped bare of their uniforms.

And Krishna could hardly be responsible for the sentry’s error on the Third Sister. The sentry must have squinted through the windy night to see moonlight flashing on Mathuran helmets. Those Mlecchás had even rubbed dirt on their exposed skin. He must have assumed it was the patrol squad returning from their shift, and would have lazily yelled at the duty sergeant to keep the gates open. By the time the Mathuran sentries realised the returning soldiers were of the wrong skin colour, it had been too late.

The Republican Army had repelled the Greeks in skirmishes along the Third Sister, but in the heat of battle, had let the enormously high siege towers of the enemy creep too close for comfort. What followed was there for everyone to smell and see. But surely Krishna could not have predicted any of this! The safety of the Walls was Balram’s responsibility. Yes, he had complained of lack of manpower. Yes, he had flagged countless times how vulnerable Mathura was to attack. But had there been any another solution? No. Soldiers were needed in Dvarka to safeguard it. And surely, the Sisters had been a beacon of safety for more than a decade? Could Krishna be really blamed for relying on them?