Dimvak gave a silent command. Soon enough, the torches were lit, the light from the flames creeping across the moss-encrusted walls, slick with moisture. Every sconce now boasted a torch, making the cell as painfully bright as it had once been dark. Habit more than hope made Karna look around to assess his chances. The plaster was flaking, speckled with green mould. The half-hearted attempt at scrubbing clean a long bloodstain on the wall opposite remained in mute testimony for all to see. A stone slab, crowded with unsubtle tools of the prison craft, was illuminated as well.

Jhestal approached the slab, tracing a finger along its cold edge. He produced a water clock from his sleeve and placed it upside down on the only available space. ‘So…who are you?’

Karna saw no point in not answering the man. ‘I have told your men a hundred times. I am Karna, Highmaster of Anga, of the Hastina Union!’

‘And your friend whom we caught is Prince Duryodhan, Heir Apparent of the Union?’ Jhestal smirked. ‘Yes, we’ve heard that tale.’

Caught! Karna did not know whether to be glad Duryodhan had survived the fall or horrified that he was in another cell like this one. ‘He is a Prince. He has immunity from…’

Jhestal raised a hand. ‘Spare me your protestations. Let us try another question. Why are you here?’

‘I have told you already.’

‘So, you are saying that a Prince of the Union, a Highmaster, and a whore, decided to smuggle themselves into our city?’

Karna froze. They had Marzaana too.

‘And smuggled yourself in for what purpose you will not tell. Let us assume there is a noble motive behind your entry. Yet you entered the Empire without even an armed escort to safeguard you.’ Jhestal raised his brows at Dimvak, who shrugged.

‘It is either what you say, or you are spies working for the Mathurans, here to assassinate the Emperor and pin the blame on the Union, while your masters continue their dirty work. Now, which of these seems more likely?’

Karna sighed, twisting his wrists in the rings despite the shooting agony that shot down his arms into his torso.

‘Young man, I have been a priest of the Ehtral for decades, and I have seen people grovel, lie, cheat, and confess. What I have gleaned in all that time is that the most likely answer is usually the right answer.’

‘I speak the truth!’

‘And how do you explain your…magical armour?’ He uttered the word ‘magical’ with evident disgust. ‘A most fascinating object. Strange that a Highmaster wears gold on his chest while a Prince dons a servant’s garb.’

‘I was born with it.’

Dimvak grunted as he went over to the brazier and squatted beside it. He blew impatiently on the coals, a scarlet glow flaring across his face.