Tayan sobbed. He hadn’t been able to tear his attention from the Singer until it was too late, until the friend of his heart was gone and he hadn’t even signed that he loved her.

Around him, the last few ejab that were still fighting were clubbed onto their knees and three Chorus warriors now held Elder Rix. They forced him onto the mats, hauling on the collar to cut off his breath, the easier to tie his hands behind him. It had been a good plan, the only plan they had, and it had failed. Everyone there knew what would happen next and as stillness fell in the room, the Tokob began muttering prayers.

Tayan took a deep breath and added his voice to theirs. He was shaman; he would call the ancestors to witness and beg Malel to take them to the spiral path to rebirth.

‘Holy lord, these insects are beneath you. Do not tax your strength on them. I will bring you fine gifts tomorrow, great Singer. Tomorrow is the appointed day. Tomorrow. Shut them up,’ Enet hissed and the warriors hit Tayan and the ejab some more. The prayers faltered, stuttered, stopped.

Death was coming, one way or another, and the shaman wanted nothing more than to delay its arrival for a few heartbeats more.

‘I know how this works,’ he blurted, too loud. ‘The flesh-traders took our names, homes, and families when we crossed into Pechacan. My husband was captured; he will have been sent to the Melody. He will work – as I will work – so that we may be free. His name is Lilla, he is a Fang warrior of the Sky City. He is tall and broad and he has a tattoo of—’

Enet waved a hand, though she seemed a little relieved. ‘Yes, yes. I remembered the husband you spoke of at such boring length the last time you were here, little peace-weaver, so I did keep an eye on the slave records as they came in. So far we have captured seven men named Lilla from Tokoban, and two from the Sky City’ – Tayan gasped – ‘but neither claimed you as kin when they swore their life and spirit to the Melody.’

Enet’s smile was as beautiful as a death rite. She took a small clay jar from a table and mixed the contents with a cup of water and drank it down. A tiny grimace twisted her lovely mouth. ‘No one claimed you, peace-weaver. Not a husband, not a friend, not a family member. But I promised you we would meet again, didn’t I? And now here you are. Mine, even if you were gifted me by a traitor.’

‘No,’ Tayan breathed. And then again, louder: ‘No. No, that’s not true. I don’t believe you. Lilla wouldn’t do that – he’d never abandon me, he wouldn’t. It’s a mistake. You’ve made a mistake.’