Betsu snorted. ‘That’s because rich Pechaqueh live here and they don’t want their fine senses ruined by having to see or smell these poor broken creatures.’ She gestured at the beggars. ‘Still, it would make taking this city more difficult. Every single estate becomes its own defensive position, and while that means those inside are isolated, it also means scaling walls and knocking down gates every single time. It would slow down any offensive, break it up into hundreds of individual skirmishes. Each estate would fall, but it would take time, and those surrounding it could launch attacks of their own, with multiple places to retreat to.’ Her footsteps slowed. ‘If they have a network of tunnels running between these estates, they could reinforce when necessary, move non-fighters, replenish supplies …’

Tayan let her mutter away to herself. Her warrior instincts had changed from dismissive to intrigued. It would be vital information to take back to the tribes, and he didn’t want to interrupt her as she analysed their surroundings. They might not get another chance to see the city from this angle.

Not that we’re going to need to know the defensive capabilities of the Singing City anyway, he reminded himself, but the words were weak. He shook himself; they were here to negotiate a lasting peace. He brushed at the turkey feathers again, the action instinctive after so many weeks’ travel.

Beyt and the warriors in front turned off the road and padded along a packed dirt track between two tall stone walls. They stopped in front of a thick gate set into the stone and Beyt knocked the butt of her spear against it.

‘Wait, where are we?’ Tayan asked in some alarm. He had expected to stay in the traders’ quarter, if there was such a thing, where rooms could be hired by the night or the week.

‘Spear of the City Enet lives here,’ Beyt said impatiently. ‘I’d brush some of the mud off your sandals if I were you.’

Twelve days they had travelled together, and not once had Beyt alluded to the fact she would bring them directly to someone of power. The idea was so absurd it hadn’t even occurred to them to ask. Tayan exchanged a horrified look with Betsu; they were filthy and he wore no paint. The gate swung open.

ENET

Great Octave’s estate, Singing City,

Pechacan, Empire of Songs

152nd day of the Great Star at morning

The holy lord has my complete devotion. The holy Setatmeh have my worship. And the world spirit holds my hope of rebirth.