Vaqix drew himself up even taller, his shadow long and twisted by the candles that made the cave overly warm. ‘Get. Out.’

Ilandeh cocked her head to listen to the echoes of his voice, smiling. Raw songstone, unrefined and yet as full of hidden, coiled power as a constrictor lazing on a branch.

‘I can’t do that, High Elder,’ she said with genuine regret. She’d come to like the old man, in her way. He looked past her to the entrance. ‘Your guard won’t be joining us, I’m afraid.’

‘What have you done?’ Vaqix demanded, his voice a whisper now, cracked and beginning to fear. ‘Who are you?’

Ilandeh took another step into the cave, confident now that she understood where the sense of sanctity came from. I’d actually begun to think a god lived here. She snorted at her own foolishness; she’d spent far too long among these people. ‘I want you to know I’m sorry.’

Vaqix’s fists clenched. ‘I said, who are you?’ he shouted and the songstone took the violence of his words and amplified it, not just the echoes or the volume but the emotion, casting the Tokob anger and violence back at himself, rebounding against him.

Ilandeh didn’t flinch – the songstone’s emotions weren’t hers, weren’t meant for her. ‘I am Ilandeh, High Elder. Who else would I be?’ She pulled the knife out of her belt. ‘I’m afraid this heretical plan to capture a holy Setat and your childish idea to sabotage our pyramid-building in Yalotlan has forced my hand earlier than I would have liked. I still had so much to accomplish here, but …’ She trailed off and spread the fingers of her free hand. ‘Even the most meticulous plans can go awry. So, you are going to cancel the ejab attempt to capture a holy Setat tomorrow, and then you’re going to recall the warriors you have sent to commit sacrilege in Yalotlan. Yes?’

‘How did you get out of the city? There are guards at the walls,’ the old man tried, clutching at anything that might make sense. He kept glancing behind her, as if hoping someone would come and explain to him what was happening.

‘High Elder, please focus. You cannot allow the attempt tomorrow to take place. You must not allow any more slaughter of the holy Setatmeh.’

‘Holy Setatmeh? You’re a Pecha?’ Vaqix demanded, using the question to try and distract her so she didn’t notice the dart he pulled from its wooden holder on his belt.

He was a shaman as well as high elder and Ilandeh treated that knowledge with the respect it deserved. That dart could be smeared with anything: sedative for treating those in pain, even a poison. Despite a year spent observing the city and council, she didn’t know Vaqix as well as she’d like.