Shishupal nodded absentmindedly. It was the closest river-state to Mathura and had aligned with the Emperor in the Yamuna War. Losing Tali had been a grave strategic loss, a disadvantage that continued to plague the Empire. ‘Rotten luck. But nature bends to none.’

‘You prove my point,’ Shalya sighed. ‘We are simple beings, with our naïve world views. We look at disasters as isolated events, disconnected, unable to see the web of cause and effect. A river descends with all its might into the city, killing thousands. We see the effect: destruction. The cause: flood and landslide. Or one might feel like investigating into how in the winter prior to the flood, every tree within sight was cut down, including those above the forested hill under whose shade Asrith Tali had prospered for centuries. The river used to flow a league away, beyond the forest on the hill, in greener days.’

Shalya took a sip of wine. ‘So why did this happen? Did the people of Tali suddenly become gluttonous, as is the case with any prospering civilization, or did it have to do more with the sudden popularity of Tali as a river port destination, that led to more incoming ferries, and rapacious fishing in the rivers, resulting in scarcity of fish as a food source? So maybe now it stands revealed that the hunger for more grazing animals was to avoid starvation, and the thirst for wood was to support the new demands of shipbuilding, and it was perhaps this that caused the carnivorous deforestation of the cliffside forests. So, were popularity and prosperity the true culprits behind Tali’s downfall or… was it the fact that a year past, Krishna had imposed an overnight embargo on the number of ships passing through the Mathuran river port, at great personal loss. An embargo that suddenly deflected dozens of ferries a week to the Asrith Tali in their journey to the East.’

Kalyavan’s jaw fell. Shishupal shuddered at this tale of unconstrained ambition. He had not known this. Cause and effect. How simple. Yet how complete the devastation.

Shalya continued, ‘Krishna is the moon behind the cloud, the faceless player in the deadly tapestry of the rise and fall of every town along the Riverlands.’

‘Fine, fine Shalya, your point is taken. Krishna is a formidable foe,’ Kalyavan relented, lifting one hand.

‘Vanquishing the slayer of Narkasur, is that not the sort of glory you seek?’ Shalya asked softly.

Shishupal could see Shalya was attempting to manipulate Kalyavan’s youth, his craving for conquest, renown and glory. Kalyavan looked like he was salivating, but then he swallowed and straightened his shoulders in defiance. ‘The proposal is just not lucrative enough, Shalya. I too, would like to discard my plain toga for a robe studded with jewels, like Shalya. Something shiny red and mythical.’