‘The storm sits far from the universe,’ she said after a while, pointing. ‘Some upset in the world of the gods or among the lords of the Underworld. Perhaps something invades the world spirit’s dreams. The Tokob god-killers, perhaps. I have been asking the shaman at my estate about it and—’

The song, low and soothing before, clanged out of harmony, reminiscent more of the grunts and screams of battle than the sure and smooth praising of power. Enet felt it spike her blood and set her heart racing. Sweat popped out on her brow. Here, in the source itself, the song’s power was undeniable, its emotion a storm inside her skin. Everyone in the pyramid would feel the same storm and know the Singer was displeased with the prophecy – and with her. The third misstep?

Enet shuffled backwards on her knees and pressed her forehead to the ground, careful not to touch the painted world.

Outside the pyramid, the song’s changes and effects would be less noticeable, but they would be there. Enet’s chest heaved. The monkey flung itself at the bars of its cage again and the Singer suddenly swept up the dice cup and hurled it across the source. It bounced off the bamboo bars and the little animal went berserk, racing around the cage and screaming. Enet didn’t move, filling her mind and spirit with devotion and reverence.

Singer Xac was reaching the fullness of his power and she could feel it swelling the source and the song alike. If Enet didn’t consolidate her own power before he began to wane, all her plans would come to naught. And they were such plans. Such plans.

He may not wane. It may be that he is still strong when the time comes to wake the world spirit. It may be he who walks Ixachipan at its side for eternity.

And so it should be. Enet filled her mind with love for her lord.

He snapped his fingers and she sat back up, ready to continue with the reading, but the Singer’s eyes roamed the sanctuary, the suite of twenty-seven rooms within the great pyramid that collectively made up his home and the source. His skin was flushed red with blood and tinted gold with magic; Enet caught her breath when she looked at him, a small, involuntary murmur of appreciation slipping from her. He flexed the muscles in his arms, head cocked to listen to the corresponding flex of the song, and grinned, but the triumph lasted only a heartbeat, before being replaced with weary bitterness, almost resignation.