‘How does one sit a siege out?’ Eklavvya asked.

‘If I knew I would be a General, I reckon.’

‘One can always aspire, my friend. Now off you go to fetch some more ale.’ Once the man had scurried away like a hare chased by hounds, Eklavvya said, ‘Have to give it to the industrious mind of the Mathuran masons, Shishupal. What an elegant solution. Eklavvya has much to learn from Krishna’s wives.’

Shishupal ignored him. ‘I, too, believe the Mathurans would do well to simply sit this out. If the Greeks are acting alone, they cannot possibly have a large enough army to conduct a long-drawn siege. They’re relying on blazebane, but it doesn’t work well in stormy weather, and needs a safe height from where it can be used.’ He leaned his cheek on one curled fist.

‘Eklavvya vacillates between the Mathurans and the Greeks, for the vicissitudes of fate and war are ever changing. But the point remains that Shishupal is assuming a status quo without considering two variables. The airavats…’

‘Hmm yes...’

‘And a far more dangerous variable than blazebane or airavats or griffins or walls – your friend, Lady Rasha.’

Shishupal did not smile. ‘Aye, more dangerous alright.’

I

The table on which the fate of the Union was being deliberated upon had not always occupied the centre of the room. The wear patterns on the vast rug covering the floor left little doubt that it had been hastily pushed to its present position. The rug itself was patterned with glorious scenes. Warriors, triumphant. Kings, crowned; these were images from the Union’s history the current members of the Eight sat on, indifferent.

Shakuni’s small mouth hinted at a smile as he stole deliberate glances at Sahadev, ensuring the boy saw the flash of triumph on his face. By now, the mystery of Shakuni’s smug face had gnawed away slowly at Sahadev’s confidence. The way Shakuni constantly interrupted Yudhistir with baseless requests, the way he reclined in his chair with nonchalance, his whole manner of being spoke of one who was least concerned by the outcome of the deliberations. Sahadev’s unease had begun to taint his sweat.

‘I must interject,’ Shakuni said lazily, for the hundredth time.

‘Lord Shakuni!’ Yudhistir hissed. ‘Pray stop interrupting me. Allow me to finish.’

‘But Prince,’ Shakuni intoned desultorily, ‘it is my duty to interject. Why are we…’

‘No more, Lord Shakuni!’ Yudhistir snapped. ‘Not only the fate of the Union, but also of the royal family, stands on a precipice. I am confident His Grace will concur there should be no more disruptions, and that no one outside the family be permitted to interrupt our discussions. No Acharyas. No Councilmen.’

Dhritarashtra waited for the others to object, waited for Acharya Kripa to seethe, for Lord Mahamati to swear. But they all stayed silent.

‘Agreed, Prince.’ Shakuni folded his hands in mock humility. ‘I see the wisdom in your suggestion. But Prince Duryodhan is of Kaurava blood, and a member of the Eight, after all. Do you not feel it would be prudent to include him in this arrangement you propose?’