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blow on the Firewright’s face. Then he struck Devala in the abdomen, using the force of the Firewright’s fall to snap the sword-hand at the wrist and let the blade clatter to the ground. He used his grip on Devala’s arm to lift the man and fling him over his shoulder and on to the hard ground. It was over as quickly as it had begun. Devala lay squirming on the mossy ground of the forest, the tip of a sharp sword aimed unerringly at his throat. His opponent stood towering over him, green-brown eyes blazing with undisguised wrath.
    ‘Shikandin!’ Devala managed to exclaim through gritted teeth. His eyes came to rest on the silver-white beads around Shikandin’s neck. ‘You…’
    Ignoring the stream of expletives that followed, Shikandin gestured to the soldiers to come forward. The prone Firewright made a last attempt to grab at the explosive-coated rope with his good arm, his rage overcoming his need for self-preservation. The action only served to invite Shikandin’s hide-soled foot to come down hard on the knuckles of his outstretched hand.
    Devala cried out again, as Shikandin rasped, ‘The only reason you’re still breathing is because the Vyasa insists it be so. For my part, I would have liked to gut you alive and then slit your throat.’
    ‘Calm down, Shikandin. This scum deserves to die many times over for what he has done. But that pleasure shall be denied us… for the time being,’ Asvattama said. He added, ‘We better get out of here before one of us steps on this infernal thing by accident. I’ll set it off once we’re a safe distance away. Sanjaya, he’s all yours now. Take him, and don’t lose him!’
    Sanjaya made to retort but seemed to reconsider. He pulled his sword out of its scrabbard and pointed it, quite unnecessarily, in Devala’s general direction. He signalled to four gigantic men who had been waiting quietly behind the soldiers. The men – guards of Hastina’s prison as was evident from their metal and hide uniforms – gleefully stepped forward to take the Firewright into their custody. Once, their vocation had demanded gruesome excellence in various methods of torture, skills that had been perfected during the Great Scourge when Firewrights, or those accused of being of the order, had filled Aryavarta’s prisons in plenty. There was little demand for their art now, and the four guards regarded Devala with childlike joy.
    Shikandin helped the men secure Devala’s hands and legs so that he could walk with assistance, but do little else. Asvattama confiscated the Firewright’s possessions and checked his person for concealed weapons. Together, the two pulled the prisoner to his feet. Devala looked from one to the other, making no effort to hide his contempt. Finally, Asvattama pulled out a scroll from a band on his upper arm. He did not bother to unfurl it, merely flashing the seal emblazoned onto the scroll for emphasis. In a strong voice, he declared, ‘In the name of Dharma Yudhisthir, Emperor of Aryavarta, you are under arrest. You will be taken to Hastina for further interrogation, following which you will be tried and sentenced for your crimes.’
    ‘And what crime might that be?’ Devala spat out, his rage now heightened by his predicament.
    Shikandin replied, ‘The crime of being a Firewright.’
    Devala laughed, cold and cruel. The sound filled the air with an unnatural sense of foreboding, and around them birds and small animals added disturbed cries of their own. He waited till all was silent again before saying, so that only the two men next to him could hear, ‘Firewright, huh? In that case, tell your executioners to sharpen another blade. You both know that I’m not the only one.’ With a last, defiant glance at the two, who refused to be provoked to show any reaction, he let the prison guards lead him away to the edge of the woods, where they had tethered their horses. Sanjaya followed right behind.
    The sun had risen and the mist dispersed by the time