The words he had been about to speak fled his mind as he saw what lay in the center of the bower.

Brightly colored pieces of wood were scattered across the floor. The strips of leather and gut that had bound the harness together lay in pieces. The blowpipe, so carefully painted by Drilli, had been crushed. The bag that had held the darts had been shredded, and even the darts had been broken, each one snapped in two.

Tryss stared at the fragments of his invention and felt as if his heart, too, was breaking into pieces.

“Who did this?” he heard himself saying in a wounded, incredulous voice. “Who would do something like this?”

“Your cousins,” Drilli said in a low voice. She shook her head. “It’s all my fault. They’re jealous of you. Because of me.”

She made a little choking sound, and he realized she was crying. Amazed that she could be so upset about something he had made—though with her help—he took a step toward her, then hesitantly put an arm around her shoulders. She turned toward him, her eyes shining with tears.

“I’m sorry.”

He drew her close. “It’s not your fault,” he told her, stroking her hair. “If you believe that, they win.”

She sniffed, then straightened and nodded. “They haven’t won yet,” she said firmly, wiping the tears from her eyes. “We’ll show them. We’ll show all of them. Just…not tonight.”

He looked at the remains of his harness and felt hurt and disappointment harden into a knot of anger deep inside. “Next time I’ll make two harnesses. Maybe three.”

“And I’ll get my cousins to keep an eye on Ziss and Trinn.”

“Better still, tie them up somewhere for the night.”

Drilli managed a smile. “Hang them by their ankles.”

“Next to a tiwi hive.”

“Covered in rebi juice.”

“After removing their clothes.”

“And their skin. With a seeding knife.”

“You’re scaring me now.”

Drilli’s smile was feral. She bent and picked up the splintered blowpipe. “Do you need any of this, to make another?”

“No.”

“Good.” She took a basket from a hanger, squatted and began gathering up the pieces.

“What are you going to do with them?”

She grimaced. “One of us has to tell the Speakers you won’t be demonstrating your harness. If I go, they’ll know someone else believes in you. And showing them this will convince them you weren’t messing them around.”

Tryss felt a heavy weight settle around him as the full effect of his cousins’ act became clear. The Speakers knew what he was working on. People would suspect he had blamed others for the failure of his invention—or lacked the courage to demonstrate it. He would be—

“You’d better find your parents and tell them.” Drilli straightened. “Be quiet about it and pretend everything’s normal.”