The thread of connection grew thicker as Tayan drummed the recall beat and his flesh urged him home. He fell into his body and was lost inside it for a time, overwhelmed with sensation, with everything pressing in on him, the weight of his flesh and the rush of blood in his ears. He panicked as he felt his chest move, ragged and too fast, before remembering what breathing was. He concentrated on his hands, one drumming, the other still clutching the idol, observing the sensations from a distance before making cautious contact with them.

Gradually, reluctantly, the spirit world sank back beneath the surface. Sound and sight and smell returned, the weight and presence and solidity of his flesh cocooning him, holding him safe. Smothering the great expanse of his spirit and crushing it down small and tight inside until it flowed into every line and curve and corner of his body. His spirit; not Anit’s. The drumbeat stuttered to a stop and Tayan placed the idol back on the blanket with a shaking hand, focusing in order to make his fingers unclench.

A figure appeared in the corner of his vision and although their movements were slow, Tayan flinched hard and then recognised Lilla. Familiar. Beloved. Husband. Lilla didn’t touch him, instead waiting for him to settle and reconnect with his body.

Thirst was a predator chewing at Tayan’s throat and he fumbled for the gourd; Lilla snatched it up and handed it to him. The shock of their fingers touching rocked Tayan, a contact he struggled to understand and one that wrenched a gasp and then a whimper from his throat. Still, he brought the gourd to his lips. The water was warm and washed the residue of the journey-magic from his mouth and throat, and by the time it was empty, he was almost himself again.

Lilla watched him with forced calm so as not to startle the spirit back out of him. The magic was weakening, but he could still feel his husband’s emotions as if they were his own. He rode them, focused on his breathing.

‘Only a Pecha can defeat the Pechaqueh,’ he said when he had remembered how to speak.

‘What does that mean?’

Tayan shrugged, his spirit sloshing within him, and then packed away his ritual tools with shaking hands. ‘It means I take the peace-weaving to Pechacan and try to convince them to end the war.’

Lilla argued hard once Tayan was able to think and move again, but even he couldn’t deny the logic and the truth of it. There were simply no other options. Someone had to go, and Tayan and Betsu had been appointed by their respective councils.