It was a marriage of confusion and noise in the adjacent fish market. The merchandise was laid out on the ground in full display of the customers while the vendors sat by and took orders and made the sales. The thrilled crowd had hundreds of types of fish to choose from, and then there were non-fishy aquatic edibles, from as tiny as shrimps to as large as lobsters and giant river prawns, with some octopi, scallops, and snails thrown in. The buyers had become impervious to the smell, so had the buzzing little flies that sat at length on the filthy fish scales and fed on god knows what.

At first, getting to the front row of customers seemed impossible. But some kicking, shoving, and elbowing later, the two Gods reached the fishmonger at last.

“Brother, what are the nearest rivers?” Puru asked an unexpected question, crouching near the vendor.

The vendor waved a dismissive hand and continued to attend to other customers.

“How much for the Rui fish?” That was surely meant to draw a response.

“Ten coins for a fish.” The vendor answered flatly.

“That is overly high. It is not even fresh.”

“Not fresh! These are all fresh from the Longai and Jiri rivers. And this pile, from the great Brahmaputra.” The fishmonger chided Puru and went back to his trading.

“How much for the Rui fish?” Puru went back to the bargaining.

“Twenty coins now, for all the customers you cost me with your gibber.” The merchant demanded.

Puru exhaled loudly as he slammed down twenty gold coins on the counter and grabbed a large Rui fish. As the two companions vanished into the crowd, the fishmonger had the same baffled look on his face that the fruit vendor had.

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“Now, we need to know the lay of the land.” The short, corpulent man said thoughtfully as he snorted twice. The Demon God had quickly consumed the fish for lunch, but its stench still wafted from his person, time to time.

The two visitors made their way into a bustling hawker market that they had spotted earlier. Rows of stalls stood on either side of the aisle, as vendors peddled their wares ranging from clothes to food to toys and other such paraphernalia. The hawkers let out all kinds of strange noises to catch the attention of unassuming passersby. As the afternoon paved the way to the evening, the mild buzz turned into a louder bustle, the market thrumming with casual spectators. The last light of the setting sun faded, and hundreds of lanterns lit up, looking like twinkling stars floating among people.

A crush of customers impulsively parted to make way for the dark and burly man, who was walking beside his softly built partner. Fair maidens stole furtive glances at the Demon God and threw him a coy smile if they caught his wandering eye.

“You will find better ones in a brothel.” Even without the nasal tone in his human form, Lord Gajanan’s voice had a grating quality.

“Only they wouldn’t be as willing.” Lord Puru idly responded but continued to walk down the aisle. He, then, abruptly turned to a stall with engravings and tapestry. The stall also had images displayed in different forms of exhibits.

“Welcome, my lords.” The hawker perked up as he saw two possible buyers. Unlike food and garment stalls, art on rocks and cloths did not attract many customers.

Realizing that Puru’s eyes were still fixed on the displays, Lord Gajanan responded, “Do you have any portraiture that maps the Eastern Kingdom?”

“Yes, yes, my lord. Right here.” The merchant brought out a large relief sculpted on marble stone, the landscape of the kingdom cleanly outlined on its surface.

“What a magnificent piece of art!” Lord Gajanan exclaimed in genuine awe.

“I especially commissioned it from the artists of the south, my lord!” As a connoisseur of art, the merchant had a taste for sophisticated artistry. Sadly, such tastes did not fill the purse, particularly in a small town like Maiyang.

“Splendid! Isn’t this splendid, Lord Puru?” Gajanan turned to Puru with all his scholarly enthusiasm.

Puru remained silent, eyes still glued to the far wall of the stall. A few moments later, he turned to glance at the oblong stone sculpture and slowly nodded. “It is.”

“That would be twenty coins then, my lord.” The merchant hawker offered.

“Twenty?! Oh no, no, no. Must be fifty. Fifty coins.” Lord Gajanan wanted to offer a good price for the information they were seeking. He placed five rolls of ten coins each on the counter.

The merchant’s joy was boundless as he enthusiastically started to open the rolls to stuff the coins in his moneybox. And then he exclaimed in disbelief.

“Was there an error in my counting?” Lord Gajanan worried.

“Fifty gold coins, my lord?! This is very generous. I…..thank you, my lords, for your patronage.” The merchant’s eyes became misty as he gathered the coins and arranged them in his moneybox.

The merchant’s emotional gratitude somewhat perplexed Lord Gajanan, but before he could ponder further on the subject, Puru’s voice drifted in.

“Where are these miniatures from?” He pointed at a palm-leaf illustration hanging from the stall wall as he stood there inspecting it.

“Ah, those…,” the merchant quickly dried his eyes and walked over to the miniature. “Great Asura Yaman holding spiritual assembly, with his devotees. I got them from some vendors from neighboring villages, my lord. There are still some followers of Asura Yaman in the province. They buy these portraitures or sculptures. I keep a few. Nothing elaborate. But if you want to find more of these, you should walk further down the aisle. Many of the traders keep plenty of palm-leaf portraitures, even manuscripts. Empty ones too, if you want to write down few wise words, my lord.”

Lord Gajanan sauntered over to where Puru was standing and scrutinized the palm-leaf miniature that Puru had his finger on. A fanged demon was sitting on a raised platform under a tree, a warm red glow on his skin, eyes closed, face somber. He was surrounded by other immortal beings, both demonic, with their fangs and horns, and divine, with their gold and white garbs and bright skin. All were bowing to the meditating red demon, their hands joined in reverence. On the ground, were seated rows of mortals, men, women, and children, all kowtowing in a gesture of obeisance towards the asura. The image was exquisitely detailed and precise, every line measured, every color accurate.

“How much for this palm-leaf miniature?” Puru asked, voice stiff.

Not long after, the two gods meandered through the crowd, equipped with the palm-leaf miniature and the relief of the landscape, with more questions than answers in their minds.

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