Said ruse and its accompanying minimal social interactions slowed him, however. Several of the more impulsive, stubborn, or foolhardy amongst the warriors they'd brought already nibbled and sipped at the supplied food and drink. Inro moved to use his still-limited use of their tongue to speed up the process, but the temptation of the sweet, alcoholic drink they offered in half-melon cups and the juicy swell of luscious fruits proved too strong. Arca sighed when he returned and held up two hands with fingers splayed. "This many already ate or drank."

"Volunteer food-tasters then," Inro said, frowning.

"Food-taster?" Arca said, head tilting.

"Menials whose sole purpose is to sample the food and drinks of paranoid and wealthy Kin, Dynasts, and Versers before they eat it. Find out if it is safe to imbibe before someone important tries it."

"And some choose this?" Arca blinked repeatedly and rubbed his chin.

"For many, it's the only way they eat at all. Worth the risk if you'll starve anyway." The elders began to grow impatient with the Lizard Hunters' unguided churn about the village commons as they danced with, kissed, or attempted basic communication with the Green People in their marginally-compatible languages and studiously avoided going on the platform.

"Arca warned against go on top to all," Arca said, peering intently at the elders, then their shaman who still squatted at the edge of things watching with an expression as inscrutable as Izbali's. Arca flashed a grin at Inro as he walked away "Good that Izbali left. Elders can't question about customs and taboos Arca make up to keep from do things don't want."

While he wrangled and argued with the increasingly-agitated trio of Green People leaders, Inro wandered the village to get the lay of the terrain should they need to fight here and scanning the verdant jungle about it for trails or lurking warriors. A never-ending stream of boys and girls running up giggling to offer food or drink, minimally-clothed young Green People women approaching to offer themselves, and blowgun-armed warriors sauntering by to size him up kept him busy. All the polite mimed refusals and deflections kept him from glancing inside any of the huts or surreptitiously examining the platform any closer. Watching their hands just in case one carried a toxin-tipped splinter to jab into any bit of his exposed flesh added another edge to the proceedings.

When his loop of the village returned him to his starting point, he found Arca and Cairin waiting for him. Their people began to seat themselves on the ground next to the platform in clusters, most of them poorly-faking eating and drinking while the obtuse handfuls Arca indicated munched and drank heartily. This arrangement did not please the elders in the slightest, judging by their critical looks and some hushed argument volleying back and forth between them.

"What if Elders tell truth? What if One Tribe merely upset and ruin many arrangements Green People worked hard for to make peace?" Arca said, smiling as a green-painted woman planted a kiss on his lips, then danced away. He plucked a leaf from a fruiting vine draped over a pole nearby to carefully dab his lips then inspected it for hints of some sort of poison or drug. "What if Inro and Cairin see tricks but Green People want join One Tribe for true?"

"Then we're the trecharous ones and this is our poor excuse for a trap rather than our hopefully-clever attempt at counter-ambush," Inro said, moving to stand at the heart of their warriors while watching the Elders closely for any indication of their intent. As he watched, they came to some decision that set them to dispatching a handful of children off into the jungle.

"Stay alert," Inro said, resting his hand on his sword hilt. Arca diverted from sniffing at a melon-cup to stand at alertness. Cairin continued to admire the lithe form a Green People warrior, but adjusted the wrap of her sling about her neck. Their people nearby noticed and a slow ripple of readiness fanned out through the One Tribe warriors.

Much shouting and sharp, angry cries called from the jungle. People thrashed through the foliage and emerged in clusters, dragging bodies by their feet or hair. Childrens' bodies.

"Six," Arca breathed. "All One Tribe runners dead."

Cairin whistled. Her slingers immediately formed about her. Small clay pots heavily-laded with Limn-formed sling stones emerged from their hiding places under lizard-skin wraps and headdresses. The rest of the warriors snatched up wicker shields and spears while the youngest among them rushed about with pots of Limn paint to touch up any places where earlier applications had been sweated, smeared, or rubbed away.

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As the hundred-odd warriors of the One Tribe formed up the box formation Inro'd spent a week drilling into them, a cacophony of sharp, trilling whistles called from hut and forest. Green People seethed from beneath the canopy, spilled from every hut, and sprinted into the village from every trail, their shrill warcries adding to the tumult.

As the chaos erupted about them, the Lizard Walkers who had eaten and drunk began to fall, some suddenly weak and limp, others writhing and foaming at the mouth, while yet others clutched at their guts and vomited blood. Someone lit the platform ablaze, streaks of fire rushing through the tangles of tinder packed beneath it. One of the elder woman screamed at whomever had done so as a knot of their warriors led them away.

"Green People poison different types keeps exciting and different at least," Arca said dryly as he drew his treasured sword. At his shouted commands, the Lizard Walkers shifted as close as possible to the flames, the warriors on that face of the square peeling away to form a reserve. "Good of Green People to give us less flank to protect."

Inro pounded Arca on the back with one hand as drew his shadowblade with the other, its smoky outline clearly delineated in the bright sunlight. "Your grasp of strategy continues to improve and impress, my friend."

Despite their circumstances, Arca shot him a grin and saluted with his sword. Cairin glanced Inro's way and offered a brief, strained smile.

Inro gave up on counting their foes. Plenty. Almost certainly sufficient to overwhelm them even with Limn sling stones and armoring paint, interlaced shields, and the fire protecting a flank. A brief flickering hope that Cairin might disrupt them by lobbing a sling-stone, dispatch the elders, and eliminated the enemy's leadership flickered and faded as he scanned the sea of green-painted forms swarming around them. The Elders were no where to be seen, likely directing things safely from the treeline.

Cairin shouted a command and the first volley of stones whistled out in all directions, detonating amid the Green People. Dozens went down screaming, but the Green People had fought the One Tribe before. Their previously close-packed mob instantly dispersed as their tactics adapted. Their pre-battle scream-and-whistle terror routine dissolved as they transitioned to taking cover behind huts then rushing out to fire blowguns or hurl spears.

Then came the most-hated among their many reviled tactics: a few swung woven baskets on ropes about their heads a few times then loosed to lob clutches of venomous snakes into the One Tribe's midst. The slingers targeted them over anyone else, but not quickly enough. Before long, half-a-dozen baskets lay crumpled inside the One Tribe formation, seething with snakes.

"And now our fate lies with Izbali," Inro mused to Arca as the battle's intensity continued to ratchet higher.

"Izbali favor us. Our Shaman ran to tell our people that trap is true, rest of the One Tribe will come from every side, break Green People strength all gathered here to kill, and survivors join One Tribe," Arca said, ducking a hurtled spear whose tip looked to be dipped in feces. "We finish here and turn to Shore Walkers."

"Or we discover Izbali disapproves of all the customs we've broken up to and including turning 'holy Limn' into the backbone of our military armament, decides to let the Green People purge us, and sits beside those Elders sipping melon wine and watching the beginnings of our slaughter at this moment," Inro countered, tactical plans and stratagems churning through his mind. "Even if we managed to somehow breakout and escape from this, the Green People would hound our every step back through their jungles. We escape and live, the nightmare here goes on. Or we abandon the Green Lands for good."

A Limb-bearer dropped her jar and rolled screaming on the ground, three snakes coiling about her feet as their fangs sank in. Inro cleanly severed her foot with one swing of his shadow blade and decapitated the snakes with a second. They'd learned from hard experience how quickly some of the snakes' venom traveled inside the body. Since they couldn't tell yet which snakes among them possessed the worst of the poisons, severing limbs was their only recourse.

"One Tribe not stay one if first great war is defeat," Arca said, lunging forward and back to hew more snakes apart with his sword. Another warrior stumbled towards them clutching at the poisoned dart sprouting from his cheek. His blackened tongue bulged from between blackening lips. Without hesitation, Arca shifted, swung, and put the doomed man out of his misery.

"So here we are again, my friend," Inro grunted as he hurled the fecal spear back to its owners. "Die or win."

Arca grinned and slapped a hand onto Inro's breastplate. "Die or win together."

Inro flashed his teeth back.

Both their smiles fell away, simultaneous cries breaking from their throats as Cairin wheeled and stumbled towards them. They lurched towards her in alarm. She raised her left palm towards them, revealing one of the Green People's poisoned, foot-length throwing darts punched clean through her hand.

Inro and Arca sprinted towards her, Inro's world tunneling until he could only see Cairin.

He'd only taken a few steps when a wicker basket exploded against his side. Most of the snakes within fell harmlessly to the ground, but several sunk fangs deep into the flesh of his arm, neck, face, and foot. Shaking them off and deftly swinging his blade sufficed to earn him quick revenge on the serpents, but their venom did its work quickly.

As he collapsed convulsing to the lush grass, the last thing he saw before a storm of color and pain blinded him was Cairin reaching out to him, her hand already blackening around the dart.