A shaft of light appeared ahead. They had reached the mouth of the tunnel. Here, the tunnel narrowed, and the pair was forced to duck into a shambling crouch to get to the exit. Krishna stepped back just before the door to let Satyaki pass, then followed him outside.

They emerged into an alley of the Third District, that led to the Market Square, which had been turned into a mock battlefield. A howling mob of the City Guard rained down hell on the hundreds of scarecrows scattered in the alleys. Krishna saw a section of the Silver Wolves trying to drag the scarecrows away from harm, even as another squad gave them cover. A rescue drill.

Ever since the news of Kalyavan joining the Magadhan alliance had reached their ears and the prospect of the Sisters falling had become real, Mathura had been broken into pieces like a jigsaw puzzle, each piece defined by gates and low defensive walls. Though Krishna assured Balram that they would all be safely in Dvarka by the time the Armistice was over, Balram was not leaving anything to chance. He had turned the defence of the city into a multi-tiered nightmare for any advancing army. Unless the assailing force comprised of giants, Krishna could not imagine any soldier mustering the patience required to cross even half of Mathura through these gates, corners and cul-de-sacs.

For Krishna’s part, he was in charge of maintenance of the two tunnels, one leading from inside the Iron Curfew, and the other leading from the Market Square in the Third District, to safe places outside the Third Sister.

‘I’ve heard she’s completely changed the mock drills,’ Satyaki said, keeping an eye out for Satyabhama, mortal dread in his eyes. If Balram was busy with the Army, Satyabhama was busy with the City Guard and Silver Wolves. ‘From blocking covert assassination attempts to shielding the walls, to turtle manoeuvres, she is breaking their bodies, limb by limb. Poor girls. I even heard one of them name every cul-de-sac in the city in her sleep.’

‘Still strolling around the Silver Wolves barracks, Satyaki?’ Krishna winked. ‘Ah...to be young and foolish again. You remind me of me,’ he sighed.

‘You have three wives, Krishna. I don’t even have a woman to send ravens to!’

‘I’ve already told you, you need confidence. Go to the alehouse. Tabetha will take good care of…’

‘My first time is not going to be with a whore,’ Satyaki said grumpily. For a seventeen-year-old unplucked flower, he sure did have his qualms about the garden. A blast of munition dragged their attention back from prostitution to politics. ‘She’ll break them, Krishna.’

‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ Krishna scratched his chin. ‘The Silver Wolves are the third or fourth daughters of their families, discarded in the streets or in temples that would have them. That kind of pain turns into a rather tough sense of self-preservation. It doesn’t allow them to bend the knee easily.’