It was a gray day, even for early winter. Dimuka glanced out of the tall, narrow window at the rain and then back to the crowded visitation hall. Even the threat of being in a cold morning like this did not stop the devotees from coming to the temple of Agni Asura Yaman.
"O Mighty Agni Asura Yaman," a devotee appealed to Dimuka, falling to his knees, "please accept my offering." The man, short and portly, with a patch of baldness on the top of his head and expensive clothes on his body, pushed an earthen pot full of gold coins across the marble floor towards the platform. Beside him, a young girl stood with her head bowed, of his daughter's age, but Dimuka knew better. "I have traveled for weeks to pay a visit to you."
Dimuka glanced at Nandi, standing near the wall, alert and servile as always. He quickly stepped forward and removed the gold.