The woman was silent, watching her, and for a moment Enet thought she might have got through to her, might have saved her from months or even years of fruitless disobedience or the protracted death of one who would not conform. But then the woman lunged, her bound hands reaching for Enet even though she was tied on a line to the captives on either side of her. There was a mass jerk and stumble and the Spear’s guards leapt between her and the Yalotl. The woman was screaming insults and threats, meaningless babble as grating as the monkey’s screeching.

Enet’s warriors hustled her out of range, one clubbing the Yalotl in the face as he retreated, breaking skin and chipping teeth, but not causing enough damage that the flesh-trader could demand payment for her. The trader flung himself onto his knees and put his head in the dirt, for the insult had been done by his stock and was therefore his responsibility.

‘The song is in you now, all of you,’ Enet said, her voice loud as Pikte ran to her side, concern twisting the delicacy of his features. ‘Its glory can be your glory; its fame your fame. Cast off the superstitions and traditions of your past, honour your ancestors one last time and then sever your link to them, for they cannot help and have only held you back all this time. Embrace the song, embrace the Empire, and be reborn in its image. I promise you will not only live, but you will thrive, if you but see our values for what they are: the future. Your future.’

‘Fuck you, Pecha whore!’ shouted the woman Enet had spoken to. Blood sprayed from her mouth along with the poison of her words. Her guards rushed back in to exact justice, the flesh-trader uttering a horrified little squeak, but Enet held up her hand and stopped them.

‘This one is destined for the Melody, I presume?’ she asked.

The flesh-trader grovelled even deeper. ‘She is, high one, yes. All this line are warriors and will fight for the Empire soon enough. Unless … I could offer her to you for a good price if—’

‘Holy Setatmeh, no,’ the Spear said, waving off his words with mock horror. ‘That one needs the discipline of the Melody and the kinship of warriors. The only thing she would do on my estate is destroy its harmony. Send them off at dawn; there’s too much fire in them. Another week on the road on half water rations should cool them down.’

‘As the Spear commands,’ the flesh-trader said. ‘And I beg your forgiveness for the insult done you.’ Enet said nothing, waiting. The flesh-trader squirmed some more. ‘May I offer you first pick of this stock or the next to make up for the insult?’ he said eventually, as he must. He raised his head just far enough to see her nod, and relief washed over his features.