It was the first time any of the warriors except Ilandeh had seen the city up close, its location and defences and walls and fields. The murmuring had been quiet and disciplined as they analysed what it was they were going to take, and then just a little lighter with relief when they spotted High Feather Pilos’s Talons marching up out of the jungle below. Everything – everyone – was in place and on time.

Below the expanse of limestone walls enclosing the city were thick orchards and terraced fields green with crops and the double loop of the Swift Water that bent back on itself as it rushed downhill. Each formed a series of obstacles difficult to navigate – defences that prevented a straight uphill assault. Instead, and at Ilandeh’s recommendation, Pilos would attack the western wall and curve his warriors up to meet Ilandeh’s above the city. Feather Calan’s forces would filter down to give battle at the eastern walls.

A three-pronged attack that would drive the defenders down through the city and into their orchards, fields and to the river – their own defences becoming a series of traps to hold them still so the Melody could round them up. Eventually.

The arrival above and around the sides of the city had caused chaos among the hundreds of refugees camped outside the walls and tall, barred gates. A trampled track leading up northwest told of many who’d already fled, while the rest screamed and begged and beat at the gates. Northwest would lead to nothing but the salt pans marking the border between Ixachipan and Barazal. They could be chased down and roped once the city fell. There was nowhere for any of them to go except into the Empire and under the song.

It seemed Ilandeh had done her work in the Sky City a little too well. Her fostering of bad blood between Tokob, Yaloh, and Xentib seemed to have blossomed into something bigger than she had anticipated, causing the Sky City to refuse entry to desperate civilians fleeing the Melody. She wondered whether any of them had come from the towns below, and whether that meant her Whispers had been discovered and executed. She breathed a swift prayer that they were safe. Either way, divisions in the defenders was work well done, as it was always easier to knap a flint that already had a crack in it.

And if there were any Whispers among those pleading for entry, she knew some at least would have scaled the walls during the night. By now they’d be ready to act, disguised as Yaloh and clad in a dead person’s clothes.