The next morning, the announcement spread through Kampilya far more quickly than anyone had expected.
Before the sun had climbed high enough to remove the morning chill from the streets, the news had already reached the markets, the temples, the inns and the temporary camps of the visiting kings.
The rules of the Swayamvara had been expanded.
Extraordinary archers of Brahmin origin would also be permitted to participate, provided they could first prove their ability by striking a difficult preliminary target outside the main arena.
The announcement immediately became the subject of conversation everywhere.
Some people were surprised that Panchala had changed the rules so close to the ceremony, while others argued about whether a Brahmin could truly compete against the greatest Kshatriya warriors of Aryavarta.
The news reached the potter's household as well, and among the five brothers, it produced a reaction far greater than that of the ordinary citizens.
They had been careful to remain unnoticed, to live quietly and allow the days to pass without drawing attention to themselves, and now suddenly the very rules of the Swayamvara had been changed in a way that seemed almost tailor-made to give someone like them an opportunity.
Arjuna, in particular, could not stop thinking about it. He had no idea why the change had been made, but after his encounter with Karna in the potter's backyard, the coincidence felt far too uncomfortable.
'Did he do this?' he wondered. 'Was he using this to confirm my existence, forcing me out?' He tried to dismiss the thought.
Karna had not revealed anything yesterday. He had not even looked at him again after the brief moment when their eyes met. Yet Arjuna knew enough about the son of Suryadev to understand that silence did not necessarily mean ignorance.
The announcement also attracted a very different kind of crowd.
Not every Brahmin who heard it possessed extraordinary skill, nor did every man who considered himself worthy actually understand what the preliminary test demanded.
Many simply heard that a Brahmin could potentially enter the Swayamvara and compete for the hand of the princess of Panchala, along with the wealth, status and influence that such a marriage could bring.
Some were motivated by ambition, others by greed, and some by the simple hope that fortune might suddenly change the course of their lives.
Groups of Brahmins began discussing the possibility among themselves, imagining what might happen if one of them succeeded.
A few even hurried toward the place where the preliminary test was to be arranged, only to discover that the challenge was far beyond anything they had imagined. The excitement slowly gave way to disappointment for most of them, but others remained determined to try. The announcement had opened a door, and once a door was opened, there would always be people willing to see how far they could push it.
By late afternoon, Karna returned to the potter's household.
This time he came alone.
He wore the same simple clothing he had used while moving around Kampilya without attracting unnecessary attention, and in his hand he carried a carefully prepared scroll containing the design Draupadi had drawn according to his description.
He had intended to give it to the potter and leave. That was all. He had no reason to suspect that the household would become anything more complicated than that. He stopped before the modest doorway and called, "Is anyone there?" For a moment there was no answer.
Then the door opened. Karna expected to see the potter's wife. Instead, a woman stepped outside, holding the edge of her garment in one hand.
Karna froze.
The woman froze too.
There were moments in life when recognition did not arrive gradually. It struck both people at once, carrying years of memory with it. Karna stared at the woman standing before him, and his mind immediately supplied the face he had not expected to see here.
Queen Mother Kunti.
"You..." Karna began, his voice carrying genuine shock. "Queen Mother Kunti? You... what are you..."
The words stopped before he could finish.
His eyes moved past her for the briefest moment, toward the simple house, and then back to her face.
Something fell into place inside his mind. The familiarity he had sensed in the two young men yesterday. The strange strength in their bodies. The young man who had recognized him. The bulky figure he had noticed earlier in the backyard. The five brothers who were believed to be dead. Suddenly the pieces were no longer separate.
His expression changed.
He understood.
Karna immediately controlled himself. "Devi," he corrected, his voice becoming calm again. "I am Vasusena. I have come to meet Kumbhakara Yogesham. May I meet him?"
Kunti's fingers tightened around her pallu.
Her face had gone pale.
"He is... probably in the backyard," she said quietly, lowering her head.
Karna nodded.
"Thank you. We will meet again."
He stepped past her.
Kunti remained standing at the doorway, unable to move for several seconds.
She watched his back disappear around the side of the house, and the fear that had been held inside her for so long suddenly became real.
Her heartbeat accelerated until she could hear it in her ears. Her palms became damp. She had spent months believing that their disguise had been sufficient, that the world had accepted their deaths, that they could remain hidden until they were strong enough to decide what to do next.
Now Karna had seen her.
And Karna was not merely some passing nobleman.
He was Karna.
The thought frightened her more than she wanted to admit, as she knew how this son of hers was.
"Karna has seen us," she whispered.
Her eyes closed briefly.
'Soon, Hastinapur will know about us as well.'
She had always known that hiding forever was impossible. Every day they remained alive was another day in which their secret could be exposed. But knowing that something would happen one day and facing that moment were two different things. She opened her eyes again and stared at the empty street.
'I guess we can no longer hide.'
Meanwhile, Karna had already reached the backyard. The potter was sitting before his wheel, working on another vase that clearly belonged to an ordinary customer. The man's hands were wet with clay, and the wheel turned steadily beneath them. Karna waited until he noticed him before stepping closer.
"Yogesham."
The potter looked up and immediately recognized him.
"Mahodaya."
Karna unrolled the scroll and handed it to him. "This is how the vase should look, more or less. The details are marked here."
Yogesham wiped his hands quickly against a cloth before accepting it. He opened the scroll carefully and stared at the drawing. His eyes moved slowly across the eight-sided body, the lotus-like curves, the relief work, and the depiction of Suryadev in his seven-horsed chariot. He examined it for several moments before looking up.
"This is a wonderful design, Mahodaya. I have never seen such a vase before."
Karna smiled faintly.
"It is the order of the Maharani. What can we do about it?"
The potter smiled nervously and nodded. "I will do it."
Karna nodded in return.
But his attention had already moved away from the vase.
He looked toward the other side of the yard.
There was a large man unloading red soil from a cart.
Karna stared at him.
Now that he knew Kunti and the Pandavas were here, the answer was obvious. The man's bulky physique could not belong to an ordinary young Brahmin, no matter how much effort he put into pretending otherwise. His arms were enormous, his shoulders broad, and even the way he lifted the heavy material revealed a strength far beyond what his simple appearance suggested.
Bhima.
Karna had only seen him twice before, and both occasions had been years ago. The young man standing before him now was older, broader, and changed by hardship. Bhima, on the other hand, looked at Karna without recognizing him.
Karna walked toward him.
"Do you need help, Panduputra?"
Bhima's hands stopped.
The vessel he was carrying slipped from his fingers and struck the ground with a heavy sound.
He turned abruptly.
His eyes widened.
For a moment he simply stared at Karna.
There was something about the man's face that felt familiar, but Bhima could not place it. He had met Karna only twice, and both meetings had occurred years ago. Memory was not enough to bridge the distance between the warrior he remembered and the ordinary-looking man standing before him now.
"Who are you?" Bhima asked, his voice immediately becoming guarded.