There was such bewilderment in Elaq’s voice, usually so calm and capable, that it choked Pilos and he put his hand on the man’s shoulder again, giving and taking wordless comfort even as his mind rebelled at what he was being told. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t.

‘Councillor Yana’s nephew is one of the Singer’s courtesans,’ Elaq continued after a pause, as if hearing his thoughts. Behind them, the ballad was coming to an end; they didn’t have much time. ‘He heard it from another courtesan, who heard it from an administrator, who got it from the Chorus warrior who was there when it happened.’

‘But—’ Pilos began, but Elaq interrupted again, and he let him.

‘The first time the song skewed, one of the peace-weavers, the woman Betsu, was brought into the source. The courtesan doesn’t think she ever left. We think that was the first, because Enet let it be known that one of the peace-weavers had returned home. The other followed a couple of weeks later – and he really did go; I had people watching. But not the Yalotl, as far as we can tell. Yana thinks the Singer killed her, too.’

‘Enet is blooding the song?’ the High Feather whispered, dread dragging icy claws down his spine. ‘Is she truly fucking insane? Does she know nothing of our history? She will destroy us all, destroy the Empire itself! Why would she do this?’

‘Yana and I are making enquiries, High Feather, but at this stage we don’t know whose idea it was. We don’t know if the Singer decided to blood the song, or if she encouraged him and provided him with … the means to do so.’

‘The Singer would not do that,’ Pilos said immediately. But was it loyalty or truth?

‘Her lust for power has no limits,’ Elaq said quietly.

It was rare for Pilos to be lost for words, but he could do nothing other than stare around him in bewildered disgust. Despite its size and strength, despite its military prowess and wealth in food and jade and slaves, the Empire of Songs forever trod a knife’s edge. The song lifted up the Pechaqueh and subdued and glorified the other tribes brought under its power, but if that song broke, if it became corrupted, even the most content slaves might become restless. The song was the resin that bound them together; Enet was wilfully, intentionally picking it apart. How would that bring them the stability needed to waken the world spirit?

‘I’m almost afraid to ask, but is there anything else?’ Pilos asked eventually, because Elaq had that shifty look he knew well.