‘Come, my children. Time to meet a friend of mine.’

V

The Riksha slid a key into an unseen hole in the wall behind the circle in the centre. Suddenly, there was a loud noise. Krishna saw Satyaki bend forward, hands clamped over his ears, while Storm frowned. With a sound that brought to mind a carpenter sawing wood, the world began to shake. Satyaki started fearfully. ‘It’s moving! It’s all moving!’

The rings around the circle they had first seen on entering, began to turn, revolving one about the other. By turning the key in the lock, Jambavan had set it off. The whole arrangement was tilting, turning, rotating and revolving at the same time. Only the orb in the centre remained still. The whole world seemed to hum with a strong buzzing sound as strange lights erupted from cylindrical objects fixed to the walls.

The parts of an invisible machine clicked against each other with rapid, audible sounds. Soon, light flooded in from the orb – piercing light, hurtful to look at after the muted darkness. It came in spurts at first. And gradually, the Rikshas working on the wall at the far end, and even Krishna, who stood on the other side of the orb, became first slightly out of focus to Storm and Satyaki, and then completely blurred behind the apparition.

To Krishna, looking at Satyaki through the apparition felt like gazing at a riverbed through rippling water. Satyaki stared up at the translucent figure coalescing before them, and his jaw sagged open. Jambavan’s use of the word ‘friend’ had been as misleading as ‘jewel’ for the Syamantaka. It wasn’t until Jambavan clicked his fingers and the workers, in tandem, blew out the torches closest to where they stood, that the apparition congealed into the form of a tall man, tall enough to make Balram seem tiny. The form could, however, barely be described as a man. He did stand upright on two legs, and had two hands and an ageless human face. His skin was luminous white, beyond the measure of men. His brilliant amber eyes seemed to have been snatched from a tiger. His ears pointed sharply towards the sky, and he wore robes that looked as if they were made of specks of starlight.

Krishna watched his companions stare gormlessly at the figure. ‘You wanted to know what a Daeva was, Storm. Well, here he is.’

VI

‘Is this a… real Daeva?’ Satyaki stammered.

Storm approached the form as he floated in mid-air. She glanced towards Krishna; he nodded. Her hand extended, she felt the gelatinous texture of the being with the tips of her fingers. She poked, and saw her finger enter his stomach. Around her intruding hand, a formless mist swirled and danced.

‘What makes you think it is not a real Daeva?’ Jambavan asked. The Riksha’s ears had perked up happily.

‘Well, it isn’t chopping my head off,’ Satyaki replied.

Jambavan chuckled. ‘There is hope for the boy after all.’