Lilla kissed each of those promises and then he knelt and wrapped it twice around his left ankle, where widows wore their cords, and tied it off. He swallowed tears and pain and willed his eyes to dryness and his heart to stone.

Perhaps they’d been overheard by their keepers, because the next morning everyone in Lilla’s pit was ordered out, along with those who’d been held in adjacent prisons. They were marched into an enormous plaza, with warriors training at the far end, some hundreds of them. They were slow and clumsy and Lilla watched them as Tokob and Yaloh were forced into long lines. Half a dozen warriors approached, arrogant and confident. Eagle feathers in their hair. One, a man even taller than Lilla and with a slightly crooked nose adding interest to an otherwise ordinary face, wore three more eagle feathers in a slender fan. An officer. He wandered up and down their lines with easy grace and unconcern.

‘I am Feather Ekon and you are here because you fought well!’ he shouted. ‘You fought like the warriors you are and there is no shame in your defeat against a superior force!’

Lilla’s hands tightened into fists.

‘You fought and lost, but this is not the end of your warrior journey. You are in the heart of the Empire, you are under the grace and power of the song, and you can continue as warriors. Here, in the Melody. We will craft you into the finest, strongest fighting force in all Ixachipan – in all the world!’

Lilla spat on the packed earth beneath his feet. Ekon walked towards him and Lilla noted the breadth of his shoulders and his powerful, rolling gait. The Feather stopped and looked down at him. It was an unusual enough occurrence that discomfort stirred in Lilla’s belly. ‘The song and its glory can be yours forever,’ he barked, loud enough to carry through the throng. ‘The Melody will be your home now, and your loved ones will live to serve others, live together as families, live in safety, while you fight for the Empire of Songs.’

He waited to see if Lilla would do anything else; he didn’t. Satisfied, or perhaps just indifferent, the man stalked away.

‘Commit to the Melody, here and now,’ Ekon continued, ‘and accept our authority over you. You will serve for five sun-years as slave warriors – or perhaps less if you perform well. When your time as a slave warrior is complete, you will be promoted to the dog warriors. Dogs are not slaves! Dogs are paid jade and that jade can be increased in three ways: by acts of bravery; by capturing slaves; by saving lives.’

He paused and the murmur of conversation rose around the plaza, the buzz of new hope.