He took no notice because he was too enthralled by the sound of his own voice. “Nor can she walk by purpose into a dream that will tell her what she wishes to know about a crossroads in her future. She may never even recognize what it is she has seen. What you need to make use of a dreamer’s gift is a record of her dreams, so you can study this record until you see patterns emerge and weave the pieces together.”

He opened the book.

“That’s Bee’s sketchbook!” I exclaimed. “The one you stole from her!”

The page was a jumble of images drawn in Bee’s vivid style: a winged horse galloping across waves; the famous twinned bronze pillars known to stand in the temple of Melqart outside the city of Gadir in Iberia; a black saber-toothed cat; nine half-moons. And a pretty little portrait of me from the back, holding by the hair the decapitated head of Queen Anacaona as I looked over my shoulder as if in flight from a pursuer.

“Gah.” I reached across him to turn the page, for the gruesome detail took me aback.

He pulled the book away from me. “The White Horse is a ship that will sail to Gadir from the quay known by its pillars of Heracles, which to the Phoenicians are known to be the pillars in the temple of Melqart at Gadir. On the Nones of November, the fifth day of November, which is today, the fugitive accused of the murder of the cacica will arrive at the quay with her brother.”

“Why nine moons when November isn’t the ninth month? And why the half-moon?”

“In the early Roman calendar, November was the ninth month. Nones refers to the day of the half-moon. If you don’t know that, you can’t make use of the dream.”

“You could just have guessed I might have tried to escape on a Phoenician ship leaving before the tide turns.”

Taino soldiers parted ranks to allow a frowning Prince Caonabo to come forward.

The general indicated me. “Your Highness. I told you I would find her. With this one, you really need to use a rope if you want to capture her.”

He whistled. In his first war his army had been famed for its Amazon Corps, women who fought with more ferocity than men. My mother, Tara Bell, had been a captain in his Amazon Corps, and she had been condemned to death for the crime of becoming pregnant, with me. A woman dressed in soldier’s garb walked forward. Captain Tira sheathed her falcata and unlooped a length of rope. It had a noose, to go around my neck.

“Yee cannot be serious!” said Kofi.

Rory snarled.

Camjiata smiled, as if he hoped I would do something reckless.

Luce, Kofi, and the men of Kofi’s household were fenced in. No doubt they would be charged with aiding and abetting a fugitive.