‘You let them go and they’ll bring the enemy down on us,’ Dakto had said flatly, arms crossed over his chest. ‘Keep them captive or kill them: those are the only choices we have. We’re in a war, Lilla, and sentiment has no place in war.’

Kux opened her mouth and Lilla knew instinctively she would make a scathing remark about Dakto’s own response when confronted with his enslaved tribe: he glared her into silence.

‘It’s not sentiment; it’s who I am. Who we all are. I won’t become a slave-owner and I won’t kill innocents. We let them go,’ Lilla insisted. They all agreed, all but Dakto.

‘I’ve seen what happens next,’ was all he would say, but Tokob were not Pechaqueh, and neither were Yaloh. The Quitob were people, and if all the tribes had stood together back when Chitenec was first invaded in their grandparents’ time, none of this would have happened. If freeing them now was all they could do to even begin to redress that balance, then they would.

But not blindly. Kux had sent a Paw to follow the retreating slaves and nominated a meeting point, where they’d rested until the trackers got back. They’d been disappointed but not surprised to learn that the slaves had indeed fled to another pod that was standing guard over construction of another pyramid. And from what they could tell in the dark, this one seemed almost finished, looming taller than the tree canopy – a brooding, malevolent presence that promised violence and poison and the end of all things.

They stared at it now. Lilla told himself it was just wood and stone, but although he could barely make out the painted carvings that had been fixed to the outside, the shiver up his neck half convinced him they were watching him. Monsters. Conjurations of the Underworld. Drowned.

Dakto’s lips were a thin line of tension, as if he was chewing over words best left unsaid as they crouched a dozen strides into the treeline. It was the still, cool hour before dawn. Birds were not quite stirring and fruit bats were still leaving scratches of black against the surface of the night. Insects droned and night flowers bloomed, sickly and cloying. There was a sudden rustle and a thump above them and Lilla held his breath, staring up into the blackness, but whatever was in the tree was staying clear of the multitude of humans below and he could see nothing.