The boy stopped, unslung his antlered bow and strung it in one fluid motion. Shishupal watched him lay out five long, stone-tipped arrows and squint into the darkness. Shishupal traced his eyeline to the target on a distant tree. A whistle of wood later, Shishupal saw that the boy had pierced the target with his first arrow, and split the embedded arrow with a second. Shishupal had seen it performed many times by great archers. But never by one without a thumb.

‘The show is over.’

Just what I needed, thought Shishupal glumly, to be caught peeping on a boy. ‘It was a good show,’ he rallied. It was art.

The boy bowed. ‘Eklavvya is glad. Allow him the opportunity to be more presentable, lest it be said the Valkas are savages.’ He bent over his sack and rummaged to pull out a thin shirt of rabbit skin.

Shishupal was momentarily confused, but he could not decide by what exactly. Was it because the Valka spoke High Sanskrit in the third person, or was it because he was wearing a shirt of rabbit-skin? Eklavvya looked innocent enough, however, though for a boy his age, the strain marks on his arms wound deeper than what one usually saw in archers. His torso bore bruise marks. The one around his ribs, probably left from Dantavakra’s daredevilry, gloomed with the purple glow of orchids.

‘A stream of apologies to keep you waiting,’ Eklavvya said as he pulled on a glove over his maimed hand. ‘Lord Shishupal, if Eklavvya is not mistaken?’

Shishupal nodded. ‘I believe I have you to thank for teaching my brother some humility.’

The boy laughed. ‘Fortune smiled on Eklavvya today. The move on the horse was valorous, almost trumping Eklavvya, not with force of course, but with the dark magic that the clouds of surprise thunder with. It was most outstanding, Eklavvya confesses.’

‘But you managed to turn him, right at the fall.’

‘Agility has been Eklavvya’s long time mistress.’

Shishupal had a nagging feeling the lad had done time with a theatre troupe. But he had bigger concerns to contend with. ‘You wouldn’t have happened to cross paths with my brother now, would you?’

‘Not since the Tournament. Is Dantavakra missing?’

Shishupal saw no harm in confiding in him. ‘Danta hasn’t been seen since he got wasted at the Old Hog.’

‘Ah, inebriation. Most imprudent. Eklavvya deplores its effects.’

‘Are you heading to your camp?’ Shishupal asked, moving aside to let him pass.

‘Eklavvya is, Lord Shishupal, but it is that way.’ He pointed in precisely the opposite direction to which the other camps stood. Eklavvya seemed to read his thoughts. ‘Valkas are bawdy people to be around, especially when drunk. Best left in a far corner at night. Why don’t you come see for yourself? Allow Eklavvya the pleasure of your company.’

Shishupal agreed. It would be just as well to confirm that his brother had not strayed into the Valka camp. And this unusual boy was a refreshing change from the dark conversational alleys Lady Rasha had driven him through.