‘I have an idea. I’m sure the Meluhans will set up spies and scouts in and around Lothal once they know that we have retreated into the city. So if we take the conventional route to Pariha, they will know that I have sailed west. Lord Bhrigu may guess that I’ve gone to the Vayuputras to seek help, which may encourage him to send assassins in pursuit. How about sailing south in a small convoy of military ships?’

Gopal immediately understood. ‘We’ll make them think that we’re going to the Narmada, onwards perhaps to either Ujjain or Panchavati.’

‘Exactly,’ said Shiva. ‘We could disembark from our military ships at a secret location and then set sail in a nondescript merchant ship to Pariha.’

‘Brilliant. The Meluhans can keep searching for you along the Narmada while we are on our way to Pariha.’

‘Right.’

‘And if we use just one merchant ship instead of an entire convoy, we could keep the voyage secretive and be quick.’

‘Right again.’

Sati stood at a window in a lookout-shelter on the southern edge of Lothal fort, staring at the vast expanse of sea beyond its walls. The monsoon had arrived in earnest and heavy rain was pelting the city.

Shiva and his army were well fortified within the city walls. Ganesh was expected to arrive in Lothal within a week or two, along with his force.

Ayurvati rushed into the shelter with a loud whoop, propping her cane and cloth umbrella beside the entrance. ‘Lord Indra and Lord Varun, be praised! They have decided to deliver the entire quota of this year’s rain in a single day!’

Sati turned towards Ayurvati with a wan look.

Ayurvati sat next to her and squeezed the end of her drenched angvastram. ‘I love the rain. It seems to wash away sorrows and bring new life with renewed hope, doesn’t it?’

Sati nodded politely, not really interested. ‘Yes, you are right, Ayurvatiji.’

Not one to give up, Ayurvati plodded on, determined to lighten Sati’s mood. ‘I’m quite free right now. There aren’t too many injured and the monsoon diseases have, surprisingly, been very low this year.’

‘That is good news, Ayurvatiji,’ said Sati.

‘Yes, it is. So, I was thinking that this would be a good time to do your surgery.’

Sati’s face carried an ugly blemish on her left cheek, where scar tissue had formed over the remnants of the burns she had suffered during the Battle of Devagiri.

‘There’s nothing wrong with me,’ said Sati politely.

‘Of course there isn’t. I was only referring to the scar on your face. It can be removed very easily through cosmetic surgery.’

‘No. I don’t want surgery.’