‘Our people choose their own paths and there’s no shame in that,’ Lilla said, his voice sharp. ‘We won’t start forcing them to take on one of the most dangerous tasks in our society. If we were like that, we’d have asked you to try the spirit-magic by now and sent you off to the river with a spear and a net.’

The Xentib looked away hastily and Tayan tried to feel some sympathy for them, but it was hard. They were good people and good friends, but they’d arrived with nothing and while Dakto was a decent fighter and Ilandeh could weave, neither had made a huge contribution to the city that had fed, housed and clothed them for most of a year.

‘That said, a lot of our people take the test, myself included. I spent my childhood convinced Malel had put me in the world to walk the snake path. When I was old enough, a shaman gave me and the other candidates the spirit-magic. I was so excited at the prospect of the spirits deadening me to the Drowned’s call. And it worked – at first.’

Lilla fell silent and Tayan realised Xessa was watching the warrior. ‘Can you see his lips?’ he signed and she nodded.

‘What happened then?’ she asked, even though she knew the story. It was important the Xentib understood why the snake path was not stepped upon lightly. Tayan shifted on the bed so he could see the rest of the room’s occupants. Lilla gave him a wan smile. Ilandeh and Dakto were silent, rapt.

Lilla signed as he spoke. ‘I heard the spirits. A sort of high, ululating whine. It was all I could hear, just that, and I was so happy, because it was working. I was going to be eja.’ He paused and bitterness chased regret across a face too gentle to be a warrior’s. ‘But then it changed. I could see the spirits too, not just hear them, and they weren’t friendly. They were angry.’

‘What did they look like?’ Ilandeh asked and Tayan translated for Xessa.

Lilla shuddered and met the shaman’s eyes. ‘Awful,’ he whispered and Tayan nodded. While his journeys were mostly spent with ancestors and familiar guides, he’d encountered enough wild spirits in his time to have a healthy respect for both their abilities and the terror and awe they inspired.

‘What happened then?’ Dakto demanded, an ugly sort of fascination in his face.

‘The spirit-magic lasts most of a day, and I spent those hours screaming and fighting things that existed only in the spirit world instead of being able to think and fight and draw water or kill Drowned in this world. And that was the end of my dream.’