‘That plan was poorly thought out,’ Kime interrupted. ‘Ours is not. If it was, the high elder would not even have let us get as far as this meeting.’ He leant forward. ‘Think of what we can accomplish. What if they truly are a product of the Empire of Songs? What if we learn how to destroy them? Think how this could affect the war, elders. Think how it would be to no longer fear the water, to be able to move and outflank our enemies, to travel concealed by riverbanks or attack out of the cover of swamps. To be able to move hundreds of warriors at a time without worrying about depleting the water vine or bamboo along the trail.’

‘This isn’t just for the ejab,’ Tika added when Kime fell still. ‘This isn’t about glory. It’s about living through the war and then, perhaps, living without fear.’

Xessa’s heart was a wild bird fluttering against the cage of her ribs when the pair finally stopped signing. She’d never thought Tika could be so eloquent, though she knew her father’s spirit was that of a poet. All her own doubts had been burnt away, despite the fact he’d volunteered the pair of them as the captive Drowned’s keepers. She looked at each elder in turn, trying to gauge which way they’d go. She found Toxte’s hand and squeezed it tight.

There were fifteen elders. Nine voted aye, including Vaqix. And as simple as that, it was done, and nothing would ever be the same again.

PILOS

High Feather’s estate, Singing City, Pechacan, Empire of Songs

158th day of the Great Star at morning

Pilos loved being at the estate, among his eagles and their families as they reminisced over campaigns past and watched the youngsters practise their weapons, but he could not deny that after only ten days he was ready to leave and head back to the simpler ways of the Melody’s great fortress in the south. To be out of the jaguar’s den. To be free from prying eyes.

Councillor Yana, of course, would back his proposal when the Singer deigned to hear it, and he’d been gratified that most of the others he’d met so far had also seen both the sense and the opportunity of it. Enet would oppose him as a general principle, but that was to be expected. She might be Great Octave, but the decision rested with the Singer, not her. Still, from what he could gather, the council was split and more than half of them would wipe their arses with poisonwood leaves if she asked them to. And then there were the Singer’s favourites.