The city was on edge enough; the fact they had captured one of their greatest predators hadn’t been greeted with any great enthusiasm by anyone. And the fact that it was in the womb now, of all times, when they needed that sacred place’s solace, just made things worse.

Xessa had been at the ceremony in the Snake-sister’s temple when Kime and Tika’s names had been painted onto the wall, below all the others. Two walls filled now. Two whole walls of ejab dead. The air had been tight with pain and thick with rage and the need to hurt. Even the retired ejab had come, the spirit-haunted who had their own wall and their own list, for theirs was a living sacrifice and was honoured just as profoundly.

Yes, Xessa understood that need; even now the sensation of the club bucking, of the creature’s knees coming apart under impact, echoed in her hands and sent a ripple of righteous joy through her. But for Rix to dismiss what she said …

‘Thank you for your time, elder,’ she signed formally. ‘If the shamans have any other experiments they would like me to conduct on the Drowned, please tell them I will be at home this evening and tomorrow morning.’ She rose and left before she could sign anything she might regret.

Xessa and Toxte walked home hand in hand. He let her brood, and if he had any thoughts on the matter himself, he didn’t sign them. The dogs raced ahead, playing and twisting among the stalls and shoppers. Their joy was lost on her. She was sour and frustrated and exhausted, but dreading the night to come and the nightmares she knew waited for her.

Xessa was secretly relieved when Toxte elected to stay at his own house that night. He needed uninterrupted sleep and she was poor company anyway. She sat in her doorway and watched his tall, muscular frame disappear into the distance. The whole city was sour, not just her. Xentibec was still under armed guard and the Xentib within were increasingly angry. Tokob were being forced to fetch water for them and Xessa had seen one woman spit into a jar before she’d left it for the Xentib to collect. And liquids worse than a mouthful of saliva were being added. Xessa had heard of three Yaloh hauled before their elders for conspiring to scrape frog-venom into pitchers before they delivered them. It could have killed people – children or the elderly. This was what Ilandeh and Dakto had done to them. The other three houses around the central firepit were all empty and the evening was still but for the swaying of palms and water vines, of ripening beans and corn in the allotment, and of the dozen gourds hanging from the eaves above her head. Ossa snuffled around their allotment and then flopped down by the woodpile. She longed to ask him what the Drowned had done.