Enet cut him off. ‘Even as allies, you could plot against us with the aid of your goddess and the spirits. We guard against that by bringing people to other parts of the Empire until they have seen the strength that lies in unity. Here and elsewhere they can work within our households and with our farmers and artisans. They can mine the songstone and see how the Pechaqueh way of life brings peace and plenty and contentment. They learn from us, are educated by us, understand how we trade and sell and buy, how we live, how we worship. They come to understand the glory of the song, the glory of the Empire. Why then would they run away?’

‘You’re honestly telling us that slaves do not escape and carve through their brands?’ Betsu demanded and Tayan was too shocked to caution her.

Enet spread her hands. ‘Some,’ she admitted. ‘But you speak as if we are monsters, not teachers. The vast majority of new citizens come under the song and embrace it. It is of benefit to all. The system works. Peace works. You are fond of that word, are you not?’ She grinned so disarmingly that Tayan blinked, and then she leant forward and squeezed his knee and, like a youngster on the cusp of his first relationship, he blushed. His hand went automatically to the wedding cord around his neck, but if she noticed, she gave no sign.

‘You speak of songstone,’ he said, floundering for a topic. ‘We do not know of this. Is it …’ He paused as something suddenly made sense. ‘I see. This is how the song travels across your land, yes? You build your pyramids out of songstone and your Singer’s magic is channelled through them somehow so the song is heard all the way to your borders?’

Enet laughed. ‘Songstone is far too rare and precious. No, the pyramids are built from any stone, whatever is local and to hand, but each is capped with songstone. Other than that, yes, you guess correctly. You are clever, aren’t you, shaman?’

Tayan didn’t answer that. ‘Fascinating. May I see a sample of this stone? Perhaps we know it by another name, other properties. How does the magic work, exactly?’

Enet’s smile was enigmatic. ‘Ah, we are here,’ she said, gesturing. ‘This is our craft district. Most of our textiles and ceramics are made here. All the people with dyed hems to their kilts are servants. They are working – for jade – to buy their freedom. And see how many wear the traditional and fully dyed clothes of their homelands? They are all free. All of them, working alongside us. Where is the subjugation you are so fond of imagining? Where are the punishments? No, my friends, a slave class might be necessary, but it is neither cruel nor permanent. You have been sadly misinformed by the wildness of your own rumours. Stop,’ she added and the litter-bearers paused.