‘You will understand when you are brought under the song and into glory,’ Pilos said, the treacherous voice in his head wondering if he lied. He shook it away and checked Rix’s bonds, then dragged him over to where Xessa sat, not listening to any more babbling protests.

The plaza was secure, but Pilos was still glad for the eagle honour guard that ringed him and the ejab, half facing in, half facing out. He’d fought too many wars and had too much respect for even defeated enemies to believe for one moment that he was safe. He snorted; there wasn’t anywhere within or without the Empire that High Feather Pilos was safe. Still, no point in taking needless risks. He cut the woman’s bonds and one of the eagles stood behind her with knife and hatchet. Another crouched over the dog.

‘Why kill the holy Setatmeh?’ he asked without preamble.

‘The Drowned—’ Rix began.

‘I am not asking you,’ Pilos said. ‘I am asking her.’

‘I am elder,’ Rix tried.

‘Second Flight Beyt,’ Pilos said. ‘Kill another. Rix here needs to understand I am a man of my word.’ He glared at Rix, pinning him in place when the other man would have protested some more. ‘I hope you understand now,’ he murmured when another Toko was dying. There were still screams and shouts, but it settled much faster this time, the captives huddling low and avoiding eye contact, only quiet sobbing and muttered prayers and the stink of fear drifting from them. ‘One word that is not related to the questions I ask this woman and one of your people dies.’

It was wasteful, but the Melody needed to establish dominance – it was the only way to safely transport large numbers of prisoners with minimal guards. Once the captives understood the cost of defiance, they’d fall into line. They always did, no matter how much they blustered beforehand about how they wouldn’t surrender.

‘Why do you kill the holy Setatmeh?’ he asked Xessa again. He watched the incomprehensible gestures and expressions.

‘Because they are predators who kill us,’ Rix said in a monotone. ‘They take young and old, shamans and farmers, warriors and artisans. They are monsters who must be destroyed.’

‘They are gods,’ Pilos said. Neither responded. ‘Do you understand that?’

‘I understand you believe that,’ Rix translated. ‘You revere them because you are afraid of them. That does not make them gods. They destroy the balance, taking more than they need, just as you do.’ Rix paused and looked hard at Xessa. ‘They kill for fun as you do. You are all cursed.’

Unease stroked cold fingers down Pilos’s back. ‘What do you know of curses?’