It had been Toxte, of course – her husband had come looking when the day had worn on and she hadn’t returned. He’d slung her arm over his shoulders and raced her downhill and in through the city gate. He’d shouted for Ossa and then shouted what Xessa had told him and caused a panic. But a necessary one.

Now Xessa was in the upper healing cave, despite her protests, while Beztil swabbed at the myriad cuts and bruises decorating feet, shins, and knees, her elbows and hands and forehead. Beztil, not Tayan.

‘Tayan?’ She signed his name. Then: ‘Pechaqueh. I saw Pechaqueh on the northern slope. Eagle feathers. And red ones.’ Panic flared within her. ‘Shaman, where’s Tayan?’

Beztil wouldn’t answer and Xessa looked at Toxte, who was bandaging Ossa’s hind leg. She wanted to ask, but the dog needed healing too – even more than she did. She only had cuts and bruises. She shoved Beztil’s hands away and snapped her fingers rudely in her face. ‘Where is Tayan?’ she repeated.

Beztil’s cheeks puffed out and her shoulders slumped, but she met Xessa’s gaze. ‘The last anyone saw him,’ she signed with obvious reluctance, ‘he’d gone up to the womb to speak to that fucking monster you caught. He’s become obsessed.’ Beztil pressed her lips together and then softened. ‘More warriors followed those you first saw, hundreds, thousands more. It wasn’t a scout or a patrol – they’ve cut us off from the womb. We can’t get to him,’ she added as Xessa lunged upright.

Beztil grabbed her arm. ‘No one can. He’s trapped.’

The enemy had come, and not just above them on Malel’s sacred skin. They’d marched out of the jungle below, too, taking up position on the city’s western flank, where the slope was clear of river, orchards and fields – a wide, open space that was going to run with rain and blood and be scattered with corpses. Where all their fates would be decided.

The high elders of Tokob and Yaloh spoke from the ritual platform in the largest festival plaza not long before dusk, asking for calm and for every non-fighter proficient with bow and blowpipe to defend the walls the next morning.

Xessa, Toxte, and most of the ejab had a place near the front of the crowd as normal, and Xessa watched High Elder Apok’s face for … she didn’t know what for. A way out. Some way to rescue Tayan and the ejab guarding the Drowned in the womb. A plan that wouldn’t see them all dead or captives at the end of it.