‘I hope that over the coming days we will continue to learn about each other, the better to reach an agreement that pleases all parties. For now, shall we begin? The grinding bowl?’

‘Begin what?’ Enet was losing patience. She had been called from her books and her research for this, these childish overtures of friendship, this babbling nonsense of ancestors and herb-magic.

‘At the commencement of a peace-weaving, it is customary to visit the ancestors, so that all know we hold the same purpose and that our hearts are pure. It creates trust. The ancestors will know if anyone has evil intent.’ He picked up the pouch and gave her a bright smile.

Enet ran a considering finger across her lower lip. Betsu rolled her eyes, but Enet’s performance wasn’t for the Yalotl. ‘Forgive me, Tayan – or should I call you Peace-weaver? – but our dead rest within the world spirit, and we access that through the song. The song is the voice of the world, you see. Do you see? We are constantly, endlessly connected with our dead. We need no frog-juice to show us our past. Or our future.’

Tayan lowered his head. All Enet could see was the tension in his shoulders and the rather tatty crown of turkey feathers. Betsu was blank-faced next to him, as if she didn’t even speak the same language. Enet waited, the patient, smiling host, until Tayan’s shoulders dropped and he raised his head. He smiled again.

‘You are right, of course. We have come to your land to request a peace-weaving. It is your traditions we should honour here, not ours.’ He packed away his instruments and tucked the bag behind him. ‘Tell me then, Great Octave, how should we begin the peace-weaving?’

‘Ah, my honoured guests, that is where there is a small problem,’ Enet said, holding up her palms. ‘We have no such thing.’

The silence was dumbfounded – until it was broken by ugly, wheezing laughter. Betsu’s face was red and tears filled her eyes as she laughed, her face twisted into a horrible grimace that was part humour, part despair.

‘Betsu? Betsu, peace,’ Tayan hissed. ‘Great Octave, you have no protocol for establishing peace with others?’

‘We already have peace,’ Enet said, pointedly not looking at the Yalotl as she struggled to contain herself. ‘All the Empire is at peace. When you are brought under the song you, too, will know it.’

‘Then the peace-weaving can proceed,’ Tayan said with clear relief. Enet arched an eyebrow. ‘Your position is that we will only know peace if we join your Empire. Our position is that we wish to retain our autonomy and end the war. The negotiation now will lead to a compromise satisfactory to all parties.’