But soon, his cries were replaced by gurgling moans, and not long after, they were replaced by the soft, still silence that can only come from the dead.

MY SCORPION AMULET in my hands, I sat in my medical tent, gulping in air, tears coursing down my cheeks. Nanaea crooned into my shoulder.

Ensi Puzu and the two councilmen we were supposed to convince—Ensi Adda and Ensi Mudutu—had just left and were on their way back to Alu. I’d tried to give Ensi Puzu my poison to use on Uruku at the first opportunity, but he repeated that he would have nothing to do with assassination. He’d only promised to support us should Arwia take the throne. We’d done our best to convince the other two ensis that Arwia would be the best leader for the city, but whether they’d support her remained to be seen. Neither had sworn allegiance to her.

“Nothing is going according to plan. Nothing.”

“Shhh, Kammani. Shh. It will be okay.”

Warad was dead. Iltani was stuck in a marriage without her consent. Dagan was on his way to bring Rish to me. I’d looked at his poor arm the second we’d gotten back into Laraak, and it was violently red and festering.

All at my hands.

My stupid, useless, ineffective hands.

I’d left Rish’s wound open. I’d caused this agony to happen to him, just as I’d given Uruku the poison, causing Iltani to get captured and him to blame Assata and kill Warad.

And Manzazu was poised to attack. In fact, they could be on their way this very minute!

“I’m doing more harm than good, Nanaea. I’m hurting everyone.”

“Selu will make sure things work in our favor. He’s listening to us, even if we don’t feel him.” Nanaea pressed her forehead to mine. Kissed my cheek. She took my ummum’s threadbare blue shawl and wrapped it around me.

“No, he isn’t. Selu doesn’t listen to anybody.”

Wiping my tears on the shawl, I stared at the pointed tail of the golden beast on the necklace and thought of Mudi’s advice. She’d told me that the Boatman was trying to earn his way out of his post, trying to replace the lives he’d taken as a warrior long ago by helping healers. That I should pay attention to him. That I could trust my instincts.

If that was the case, the Boatman really wasn’t helping me at all.

Or is he trying to and I am not listening?

The image of the Boatman standing on the banks of the river with his band of warriors behind him flickered into my sights again, and I held it there, watching him. He took a bottle from his satchel, and from the way the light was hitting it in my memory, I’d swear it had been red. A deep crimson like the nerium bottle on the merchant woman’s booth. But I didn’t have the nerium or a different red bottle of tincture! I rummaged around in my healing satchel again to check, but nothing was there that looked even close to the bottle he held.