Sahadev narrowed his eyes. Sahadev picked up the scroll and stretched over the table to return it. As Shakuni had expected, he discreetly pried it open with thumb and index finger to take a peek at the scroll’s contents. Before Shakuni could take the scroll back, Sahadev froze. He stood up with a start, hastily unrolling the scroll. ‘Vayu save us! Brother, Mathura is under siege! Draupadi and Bheem are trapped! Forces numbering over six thousand have attacked the city with airavats!’ He turned to Shakuni, whose mouth was turned down in grim pleasure. ‘You knew!’

‘We must leave for Mathura immediately!’ The White Eagle was on his feet. For a man his age, he was both nimble and quick. ‘It is a three-day ride even on the fastest horses.’

‘We can take Garud. It will be faster,’ said Arjun.

‘Garud is not impervious to weapons,’ Sahadev remarked. ‘And only Yudhistir can ride him, and it will be too risky to put him in sight of their arrows. Can you teach Arjun how to fly Garud, brother?’

‘Tarry a while longer, Lords and Lordlings,’ Shakuni said, standing up with his hands spread before him, his voice clear as crystal. ‘As dreadful as the news is, and as much as it pains my heart, it was upon Prince Yudhistir’s request that His Grace passed a Diktat that nothing be permitted to interrupt these proceedings till a conclusion be reached. In fact…’ he stretched a hand down to where Sahadev sat, and borrowed the Codes. Shakuni’s hand shook under the weight of the heavy book but he lifted it and took it over to Acharya Kripa. ‘The Diktat is now a matter of record, inked and sealed. It is the Will of the King,’ said Shakuni. ‘Acharya Kripa, would you please be so kind as to read out the relevant excerpt for the benefit of the attendant parties?’

Seeking the King’s permission, Kripa stood and read: Verse 67:201. A Monarch is Justice and Law forged into a sword, whose searing fury the Monarch himself is not immune from. The Diktat of a Monarch should be rarely exercised, and once uttered, cannot be unspoken, for the Monarch, as unmoving as the North Star, must be ever constant. Once the words of the Diktat are inscribed in ink, dye or blood, it becomes the Law. Even the King cannot undo it. Any change in such Law can only be brought about by the Will of the People so governed, exercised through each and all of the Eight, who possess the godgiven faculties to take decisions for the commonfolk.