Storm scowled at Krishna, making a crude gesture with her fingers and allowed Rain to drag her to the side to mend herself. More of the City Watch descended on the Wolves ahead, but Krishna could see the Watch was being routed by the Wolves.

‘I think the Silver Wolves are winning,’ Krishna observed as he climbed the stairs to where Satyabhama stood. Rain followed behind. Upon reaching the balcony, he found an injured Silver Wolf on the ground, gazing at him in sheer horror. He knew her name. Piety. Her long curly hair was tied in a top knot. Blood trickled down her branded right cheek. Piety looked at him and then at Satyabhama, understanding something Krishna had failed to grasp.

‘Ah, you shouldn’t have said that, Krishna,’ Kritavarman said, resting against the barricade below, rubbing his bruised ribs.

Satyabhama whistled for her horse, and jumped off the low balcony into the saddle. ‘Where are my bowmen?’

Thirty men of the City Guard emerged from the houses along the walls of the narrow street, carrying crossbows. The quarrels had been blunted with strips of cotton and leather, but the impact from such close range would have been enough to blind one. Krishna’s eyes widened as he realized what Satyabhama was about to do. It was going to be a massacre.

‘Fire!’

And then, Krishna saw magic. The Silver Wolves positioned themselves in front of the crossbows and in silent symphony, turned sideways to avoid the quarrels. Half of them failed to do so, but the remainder were numerous enough to prevail over the death-addled crossbowmen. The fighting had begun in earnest. He saw two Silver Wolves fight Satyabhama; one attempting desperately to bring her horse down. Satyabhama knocked the Wolf unconscious with her cudgel as she swung to jump off the horse, and found herself facing six more Silver Wolves. And though Krishna could not see her face as her back was turned to him, he could picture the expression on her face. Grinning.

Kritavarman looked at Krishna sadly. ‘If only there had been more Wolves still standing…seven is just too few… Perhaps two more and then, just maybe, the War Mistress would lose a duel for a change.’

II

After all the seven Wolves had eaten dust, Satyabhama jumped over the barricade to greet Krishna. Dust coated her face like paint. ‘What brings you boys to the Third District? Is there a spy missing?’

‘Espionage is as important as an army, Satya,’ Krishna said gruffly, turning to Satyaki for confirmation.

‘I’m not getting into this debate again,’ Satyaki said, discovering something amusing between his feet.

Krishna mouthed ‘T-R-A-I-T-O-R’ at Satyaki before turning to his wife, ‘The Silver Wolves did well today. Giving them an off?’ Satyabhama’s expression was one of pure bewilderment, as if Krishna spoke in a foreign tongue. Shaking his head, he added, ‘They almost won against you, War Mistress. They are exhausted. They need to mend bones, you know.’