Others from Holy City (who stink more like Hezram than themselves) lie about in rank shadows, snorting and rattling their lips. Soot growls at the mound of breath bodies filled with poison, like Yari. He keeps his distance. Spirit slaves are clumsy in the everyday, but can drink a body dry. Awa unties a tangle of ropes and drags Meera to the door. Rokiat paces outside, singing. Soot would like to sing with him, even a sad song, but this is a silent hunt. Awa and Meera hug, whimpering and blubbering.

“What’s going on?” Rokiat uses keys to open the door. “How did you get in there?”

Awa clamps his mouth. Rokiat nuzzles her. Soot sticks his nose out the door. Hezram is close, a few minutes, moving away. Soot wants to run him down. He growls, impatient, yet he knows they must hunt Hezram carefully. Soot must creep up on Hezram when he sleeps, or swims in the sea, or pisses on a tree at night. Soot must rip Hezram’s throat and eat his heart and liver before anyone notices.

Awa lifts his paws onto Meera’s shoulder. “Take us. Somewhere safe,” she says.

Scents from Mango and Fannie waft through the window. They are tense, but in no danger. Soot steps sideways with Meera into Jumbajabbaland and then to the corral. Fannie and other warhorses greet Meera. Mango stands guard, ears wide. Soot goes back for Rokiat but the man wants to stay in the locked room with fiends. Soot has to drag him to the corral. Rokiat opens his mouth as if to lick someone then shakes the void off like a dog. Soot returns for Awa. She stands over a breath body who smells like her, not Hezram. Awa has stabbed the heart with a viper’s head. She killed two snakes last night and didn’t let Soot eat the heads. She holds a cloth of vapors under a twitching nose. The breath body becomes more solid than shadows; cheeks turn brown like blood. If Soot had Awa’s eyes he’d see red. A woman has come back to herself.

“Mother?” Awa says.

“Is it you?” Mother runs a finger over a mark on Awa’s forehead. “Grown up, an Elder saving me?” Mother’s heart is erratic. Venom runs in her blood.

“Yes, a griot.” Awa hesitates, hiding something. “Did Father—”

Soot sneezes out the smell of venom and tries to swallow a bark. His woofing makes Awa jump. Her face is wet with tears. She is so sad, all the time. Soot whines and paces. The other spirit slaves are restless. He nips Awa’s hand and growls. A sluggish fiend sits up and shakes the other bodies.

“Take us both at once.” Awa lifts the dying woman away from thrashing fiends. Several clamber to standing too. “Can you do that?”