‘That depends on you, my friend. Remember your code of honour when you answer this.’

Divodas frowned.

‘How did you get the Naga medicine?’ asked Shiva.

Divodas froze.

‘Answer me, Divodas,’ repeated Shiva gently.

‘My Lord...’

‘I know that medicine could only be made by the Nagas. The question, Divodas, is how you came by it.’

Divodas did not want to lie to the Neelkanth. Yet he was afraid of speaking the truth.

‘Divodas, be truthful,’ said Shiva. ‘Nothing angers me more than lies. Speak the truth. I promise you that you will not be harmed. It is the Nagas I seek.’

‘My Lord, I don’t know if I can. My tribe needs the medicines every year. You saw the chaos that a few days of delay led to. They will die without it, My Lord.’

‘Tell me where to find those scum and I give you my word, I will get you the medicines every year.’

‘My Lord...’

‘It is my word, Divodas. You will always have your medicine. Even if it’s the only thing I do for the rest of my life. Nobody in your tribe will die for the lack of medicine.’

Divodas hesitated. Then his faith in the Neelkanth legend overcame his fear of the unknown. ‘I have never met a Naga, My Lord. Many of us believe that they have put a curse on Branga. The plague peaks every year, without fail, during the summer. The only medicines that can save us are the ones the Nagas supply. King Chandraketu gives the Nagas untold amounts of gold and a large supply of men in return for the medicines.’

Shiva was stunned. ‘You mean King Chandraketu is forced to deal with the Nagas? He is their hostage?’

‘He is a virtuous king, My Lord. Even the few of us who have escaped and found refuge outside Branga are given gold by him to sustain ourselves. We go back to Branga every year to get the medicines.’

Shiva stayed silent.

Divodas had a smidgeon of moisture in his eyes. ‘Our king is a great man, My Lord. He has made a deal with the devils and cursed his own soul, only to save the people of Branga.’

Shiva nodded slowly. ‘Is the King the only one who deals with the Nagas?’

‘From what I know, he and a few trusted advisors, My Lord. Nobody else.’

‘Once my child is born, we will leave for Branga. I will need you to accompany me.’

‘My Lord!’ cried Divodas in shock. ‘We cannot bring any non-Branga into our land. Our secrets must remain within our borders. My tribe’s future is at stake. My land’s future is at stake.’

‘This is much bigger than you, your tribe or me. This is about India. We must find the Nagas.’

Divodas gazed at Shiva, torn and confused.

‘I believe I can help, Divodas,’ said Shiva. ‘Is this a life worth leading? Desperately begging for the medicines every year? Not even knowing what ails your tribe? We have to solve this problem. I can do it. But not without your help.’

‘My Lord...’

‘Divodas, think. I have heard that peacock blood has many other side-effects that are just as bad. What if you had not reached in time with the Naga medicines? What would have happened to your tribe? Your wife? Your unborn child? Don’t you want this resolved once and for all?’

Divodas nodded slowly.

‘Then take me to your kingdom. We will free your King and the land of Branga from the clutches of the Nagas.’

‘Yes, My Lord.’

‘I swear I have nothing to do with the Nagas, My Lord,’ said Bhagirath, his head bowed.

Nandi, standing at the door of Shiva’s chamber, was looking on sympathetically.

‘I swear, My Lord, I would never go against you,’ said Bhagirath. ‘Never.’

‘I know,’ said Shiva. ‘I think the presence of the medicine shook me. Nandi has already spoken to me. I know how you came by the medicine. My apologies that I doubted you.’

‘My Lord,’ cried Bhagirath. ‘You don’t need to apologise.’

‘No Bhagirath. If I have made a mistake, I must apologise. I will not doubt you again.’

‘My Lord...’ said Bhagirath.

Shiva pulled Bhagirath close and embraced him.

‘Thank you once again for gracing us with your presence, My Lord,’ said Kanakhala, the Meluhan Prime Minister, bowing down to touch the great sage, Maharishi Bhrigu’s feet. ‘I will take your leave.’

‘Ayushman Bhav, my child,’ said Bhrigu with a slight smile.

Kanakhala was astonished at the sudden appearance of the reclusive Maharishi in Devagiri, the capital city of Meluha. But her Emperor, Daksha, did not seem the least bit surprised. Kanakhala knew how the strict Saptrishi Uttradhikari, a successor to the seven great sages, liked to live. She had organised his chamber to be exactly like the Himalayan cave that was Bhrigu’s home. No furniture except for a stone bed, on which Bhrigu was sitting presently. Cold water had been sprinkled on the floor and the walls to simulate the uncomfortable chilly and damp atmosphere of the mountains. Light had been restricted through the presence of thick curtains on all the windows. A bowl of fruit had been placed in the room; the only food for the sage for days. And most importantly, an idol of Lord Brahma had been installed on an indentation in the wall, at the north end of the chamber.

Bhrigu waited for Kanakhala to leave before turning to Daksha, speaking in a calm, mellifluous voice. ‘Are you sure about this, Your Highness?’

Daksha was sitting on the floor, at Bhrigu’s feet. ‘Yes, My Lord. It is for my grandchild. I have never been surer of anything in the world.’

Bhrigu smiled slightly, but his eyes were unhappy. ‘Your Highness, I have seen many kings forget their dharma in their love for their child. I hope your obsession with your daughter doesn’t make you forget your duty to your nation.’

‘No, My Lord. Sati is the most important person in the world to me. But I will not forget my duties towards the cause.’

‘Good. That is the reason I supported you in becoming Emperor.’

‘I know, My Lord. Nothing is more important than the cause. Nothing is more important than India.’

‘You don’t think your son-in-law is intelligent enough to start asking questions when he sees it?’

‘No, My Lord. He loves my daughter. He loves India. He will not do anything to hurt the cause.’

‘The Vasudevs have begun to influence him, Your Highness.’

Daksha looked shocked, at a loss for words. Bhrigu realised the futility of carrying on this conversation. Daksha was too simple-minded to understand the implications. He would have to fight for the cause by himself.

‘Please go ahead then, if that is what you believe,’ said Bhrigu. ‘But you are not to answer any questions on where it came from. To anyone. Is that clear?’

Daksha nodded. He was still shocked by the statement Bhrigu had made about Shiva and the Vasudevs.

‘Not even to your daughter, Your Highness,’ said Bhrigu.

‘Yes, My Lord.’

Bhrigu nodded. He breathed deeply. This was troubling. He would have to fight hard to save the legacy. It was imperative. He believed the very future of India was at stake.

‘There is nothing to fear in any case, My Lord,’ said Daksha, feigning a brilliance he didn’t quite feel. ‘Whatever may have happened with Brahaspati, the secret is safe. It will remain alive for centuries. India will continue to prosper and rule the world.’