Slowly, one by one, they began to dissipate from the ridge. Yldus strode as tall as he could beside Qaine. Vashnear skulked with Dech following reluctantly. Xhai was the last to leave and took the longest, stopping to turn and look behind with each step.

But she, too, left, as did they all, without so much as looking at Naxiaw, leaving the shict and the black-draped longface alone.

And no sooner did they than Naxiaw made ready to leave, as well. He lowered his head and closed his eyes, prepared to withdraw into his mind, to touch the Howling and send out his panicked warnings, his fevered shouts to his kin.

Longfaces coming, his thoughts ran like terrified deer. Poison soon. Let them all die together, purple and pink alike. Kill the human evolution before it begins again. Cleanse all diseases.

A good list, he thought, one he would eagerly relay once he vanished into sounds without meaning, once he reached his people, once they heard-

‘Not answering, are they?’

He felt cold, the words echoing through his ribs to clench at his heart. Black-clad’s face had not turned, yet there was no doubt who he spoke to.

‘You’re shocked,’ the longface said, chuckling softly. ‘Your kind typically is. Overscum, that is. I like that about you, though.’ He made a long gesture over the valley. ‘Everything with netherlings is always a foregone conclusion. When they’re born, they know what they’re going to do. Males use nethrato lead the females, who use iron to kill each other. Low-fingers use bows, high-fingers use swords, bridge-fingers become Carnassials. Those with black hair die; those with white hair kill. It’s so …’

His sigh drained the air from the sky, left Naxiaw breathless, helpless, staring in astonished silence.

‘And what’s more,’ Black-clad continued. ‘They don’t just knowwhat it is they do, they lovedoing it. Males love leading, females love killing, none of them knowing they could do something different. But these … humans, if you’ll pardon the mention of their race, these are fascinating creatures. They never know what’s going to happen, the females, especially. And when they find out …’

Naxiaw felt the longface’s smile, even without seeing it. He could feel the stretch of lips, the baring of teeth, the long, slow drag of a long pink tongue across them.

‘Really, I’m surprised you don’t think more of the females. You seem to be of similar mindsets: both always thinking about killing, both always thinking about death. Though you don’t think of it as death. You think yourself to have medicine, to cure.’ His fingers drummed. ‘Lying … we’ve never had reason to, what with everyone knowing everything about themselves and each other. What a fascinating creation.’

Naxiaw opened his mouth, urged his voice into his throat even as it fought to stay down, stay hidden from this creature, to avoid matching itself against his sounds full of meaning. Before the shict could even squeak, though, Black-clad continued.

‘No, I can’t read your thoughts. Not the ones you keep to yourself, anyway. But whenever you bow your head and start thinking … well, it’s so loud, I can hardly hear anything else. Even then, I can’t garner much besides some general information, bits and pieces, mostly. I know you hate us, but that’s hardly surprising, what with you being our prisoner and all. I know you’re looking to kill … apologies, “cure” the humans, but who isn’t? And I know you can understand me, even if you never speak.’

Naxiaw felt his eyelids begging him to blink, his breath begging him to suck in more, but he had the wits to do neither.

‘No, I don’t particularly care, really. You want to kill them, kill Yldus and Vashnear, kill Xhai … kill me, even. I could put an end to that right now, you know. But then, that would be just one more foregone conclusion, wouldn’t it? I rather like the idea of something new and interesting happening if I let you live. If you kill a few females, that’s fine. I have more than enough to spare. Will you kill me, though?’

He chuckled again.

‘I’d really like to see if you could come close, actually. Everything I learn about you … you people and your bright red sun fascinate me. Your lying, your railing against truth, fighting against what you know. I must know more … Perhaps you’ll tell me eventually?’

Naxiaw had not the voice to reply.

‘Eventually, of course. For the moment, I’m not interested in much else … except that voice. You heard it, too, didn’t you? Whining, whimpering, and then … screaming. What was that, anyway? One of your people? But not one you were trying to reach … I can sense that much. But it was trying to reach you, even if it didn’t know it. How curious it was, though. So lost, so alone, so blind. I can’t know if you can tell or not, but I, for my opinion, think it sounded strange, unique … female.’

The words rolled off his tongue like a dagger, hanging in the air, its echo the smooth and relentless edge that pierced Naxiaw’s heart. Was the voice, that lost and whimpering voice, a female? He could not know. But it was a shict, this was fact, and it was a shict he must warn. But how? If he could not use the Howling without this longface knowing, what would he do?

‘It is a confusing dilemma, isn’t it?’ Black-clad asked. Slowly, he turned to face the shict, his grin broad and white. ‘I might have an answer, though. This thing you use, your loud thoughts. It can’t be too hard for me to figure out. Why don’t you just relax …’

Naxiaw swallowed hard as he met the longface’s eyes, bright crimson and burning like pyres.

‘And let me have a look inside?’

Something reached out, slid past Naxiaw’s brow and into his brain. He threw his head back, pricked his ears up. In a word without sound, a noise without speech, he let out a long, meaningless scream.

Twenty-One

‘She did it again.’

The voice came subtly this time, without cold fingers of rime. It came this time as soft as snow falling on his brow, accumulating and growing heavier.

‘ She thinks you don’t see her.’

Growing impossible to ignore.

‘ Thinkswe don’t see her.’

Still, Lenk tried.

He focused on other distractions in the hut: the oppressive moisture of sweat sliding down his body, the stale breath of the still and humid air filtered through the roof of dried reeds, the sounds of buzzings, chirpings, the rustling of leaves.

And her.

He could feel her, too, just as easily as the sweat. He could feel her body trembling with each shallow breath, feel her eyes occasionally glancing to him, hear her voice bristling behind her teeth, ready to say something. He could feel the brief space of earth between them. When her hand twitched, he felt the dirt shift beneath his palm. When his fingers drummed, he knew she could feel the resonance in hers.

He felt her as he sat, felt her smile as easily as he felt his own creeping across his face.

‘ She isn’t smiling.’

He furrowed his brow suddenly, resisting the urge to speak to the voice, to even acknowledge it. Try as he did, though, he couldn’t stop the thought from boiling up in his head.

She isn’t?

‘ Look.’

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her for the first time since they had entered the hut. She was not smiling, not even looking at him. Her stare was tilted up to the roof, along with her ears, rigid and twitching with the same delicate, wary searching that he had seen before, once.

But she had been looking at him, then.

‘ She listens.’

That makes sense. He was distantly aware of a voice in the room. Someone else is talking.

‘ Not to them.’