The jungle closed in tighter again as we pressed, the canopy at most parts entirely oppressing light to thin beams that never reached the ground, even at noon. Massive green and blue leaves swamped our sight in every direction; as soon as we pushed through a wall of wet stalks, our path was swallowed up again. More than once we entirely lost sight of each other, and had to call out to locate each other.

“Should we be mimicking animal calls or something?” I asked Akishen between heavy breaths, when we were paused one of the times the others were separated from us.

She giggled.

“No, that doesn’t work. We have no hope of adequately mimicking birds, and if we mimicked one of the smaller animals, it would only attract others higher up the food chain.”

“And if we mimicked a Stranglethorn or something?”

At that, she laughed. Her lower lip, thick and red, quivered as she controlled herself and tried to resume her serious expression.

“Give me your best Stranglethorn.”

I cleared my throat and tried to imagine a big trunk coming out of my nose, my head an enormous skull, and thought back to the fight. It had done a sort of hooting bellow, but there was an odd growl in there as well, like a cross between an elephant and a jungle cat. I filled my lungs with air, then, looking at Akishen’s wry smile and anticipation, I let it back out silently.

“On second thoughts, maybe not. . . .”

She nodded. A few moments later, Lenya and Alator found us. The hems of Lenya’s robes were torn to shreds, absolutely in tatters, and covered in thick dark mud. She bunched them up around her thighs and tied them with a thin leather cord.

Wow, her . . . Not the time, Talbot! . . . Wait, did she hear that?

I peered at her face between her plaits, but she finished her work and looked up at me oblivious.

Phew.

“Do you all need to take a break?” Akishen asked.

Alator and I looked at each other and then to Lenya, but before we could answer, Lenya barked, “No,” and we carried on.

Akishen led with purpose, her shoulders squared. Her confidence was intensely annoying, as had Keza’s been, but also quite fascinating and reassuring; she moved with the ease of someone utterly at home.

I wonder how long their people lived in these jungles before constructing Ith-Korr.

A few times I tried to get the attention of my companions. Alator’s head was on a swivel, and every ten minutes or so his irises glowed gold and his eyes let off a little drift of yellow smoke as he activated his body’s form of [Survivalism]. I wondered whether having that ability would make one more or less on-edge walking through the jungle; sure, you’d know for sure whether you were about to be ambushed or not, but you would be painfully aware of all threats around you, even minor ones, or ones too far away to bother you. Sort of like learning there’s a kitchen tile out of place behind the fridge — if you’d have never known, you’d never have cared. . . .

Lenya on the other hand intentionally shirked my gaze. I could tell she had wanted to talk about something more serious when she had approached me at the camp, but I’d wanted to put anything off that would have ended in any public displays, as me raising my voice or her chastising me would have weakened our position there.

I did wonder whether we could have left that place in one piece if all had gone south. What if we’d had more of an escort, or even people following in the shadows, like those slingers, when we’d visited the prisoners? What if they’d lured us back to their hideout as an ambush? We were rushing into things . . . and I saw no possible other way forward.

There had been maybe three dozen of them in the camp, and probably others on patrol ready to return, or on the outskirts watching for fiends or incursions.

Well, Alator would have made it out, I guessed.

Keeping Akishen’s pace (mostly), we got back to the trade road and emerged out of the jungle to see Ith-Korr towering above. She took a moment to steady herself before walking forwards. As the suns started to dip, the wardens greeted us from the wall and peered down suspiciously at the Shadow Prowler.

“Who’s that you have with you?”

“Emissary from the Shadow Prowlers, Lieutenant Akishen,” I said. “Wardship Captain Paresh has granted them entry for an audience.”

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“You speak funny,” the warden said, and waved us on.

We were geared up on the wooden lift all the way to the lowest tier of the Hanging City, built on enormous wooden planks around a copse of ginormous redwoods, kept aloft by the gently glowing light green vines which shifted and undulated (though much less currently). Our destination was the Wardship, and we passed through some of the less populated areas, with Alator and I leading the way and Lenya sandwiching Akishen.

No one gave too much thought to Akishen as we passed — they would not know her face, to be sure — but they did inspect the strange jaguar teeth and talismans stitched into her lithe leather armour. A few people did wave at us as we passed, and I sheepishly waved back, before taking a deep breath in and meeting everyone with a raised head.

“The Hero of the Dwellship!” some called.

“Talbot of the Flying Spear!”

Yeah, I could get used to this. . . . Better not, though. . . .

Even Akishen couldn’t help but give an approving, almost impressed, look whenever we were recognised, but she swiftly turned it to a disdainful scoff when I turned to gloat. We passed through the fortified entrance to the barracks and Teera, the old grey-furred bookkeeper, greeted us and sent us straight through the main room to Paresh’s office.

Inside, Akishen stood tall (as tall as she could), and met him with a dirty look.

I wonder what stories Skelth has told her of the wardens.

Paresh cleared his throat and piped up:

“Greetings, I am Ward Captain Paresh. Forgive me, I do not think we’ve ever had the pleasure.”

“It is no pleasure,” Akishen uttered, bluntly. “I am of the Shadow Prowlers. I will hear what you have to say.”

At length, Paresh sighed and nodded, then moved past her to the door where we were waiting and addressed us:

“Do you mind leaving us to it? Please return in an hour or so for debriefing.”

“Of course.” I nodded, and leant in to whisper, “This is Akishen, daughter of Skelth. She is also his lieutenant of sorts. They agreed to this meeting under some duress. To avail you as much as possible of the facts, the wardens are all alive, but they have been . . . treated terribly.”

A flick of fire took to the deep amber point of light in the captain’s eyes. He clenched his fists.

“They seek the return of their own, and then she is to escort us to Uruk, where she can point us to a member of the Crimson Crown.”

“I will tread lightly,” he whispered back, understanding my meaning.

I straightened up.

“Thank you, Wardship Captain Paresh, I will see you in one hour,” I spoke in a slightly raised voice and we all took our leave. Without anything else to do, we climbed the treacherous rise rope ladder to the next tier and mulled about the Woven Vine. Keza and Brekis made us feel at home, as always, and set us up with a hearty late lunch and fresh cucumber water.

Afterwards, we carried our chairs outside and set them up by the edge of the tier, facing the bannisters, looking over the jungle far below to the west, out over the trade route, which twisted and turned and disappeared into a sparkling mountain range on the horizon. The suns had made it over the apex of the redwoods but had not yet dipped enough to shed much light directly onto each tier, so we sat in the breezy shade.

Alator leant back in his chair with his ankles resting on the low bannister and closed his eyes. I felt the twitching energy in him still slightly, and I’m fairly certain he drifted off into a little catnap.

Lenya had a far-off look to her, her bright grey eyes, lit as if by starlight, stared out at a distant point in the mountains, unchangeable. The wind rustled her unkempt auburn plaits and tinkled the golden bee earrings she wore, and sent a little shiver down her spire.

At length, she turned to me to find me staring at her, and her wistful gaze hardened.

“You threatened them,” she declared suddenly with a stern tone. “That was unsightly. And you used me in your ploy. They showed us no ill will before that.”

“Lenya,” I lowered my voice. I’d expected this complaint.

“I’ll not be party to that sort of underhandedness. It was a struggle forcing the desert-folk man to speak when he didn’t want to, as there was no danger from him.”

Wonder if it’s just her morals, or if there’s actually some difficulty in using her magic that way. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter. . . .

“Alator and I have been tasked with destroying the World-Eater,” I muttered quickly. “I’m still coming to grips with just how big a task that is, and holding onto what morals I have left — you’ve seen that — but I will continue to do what I must on this quest. I can guarantee you’ve not yet seen the worst of it.”

Her visage retained most of its hardened quality, but she shirked my eyes and her mouth twitched to a vulnerable smile.

“I will not deny you two are proving yourselves quite capable, and I appreciate the stakes. Just . . . In Aricaeëth we have strict values, down to our bones, and it seems almost every day they are being tested. This causes me a great deal of . . . tangible, real pain.”

I gritted my teeth. I’m sorry, Lenya.

“You’re not tied to this the way Alator and I are,” I said slowly. “We don’t know why you were brought to Barbican . . . Sure, I find it too much of a coincidence that we came across you —”

“Our destinies are linked in some way.”

I put a hand on her arm. She didn’t flinch or try to shrug me off, possibly for the first time.

“Perhaps. But do not feel any obligation. Lenya, if this is too hard, or too morally challenging — if you wish to leave, leave.”

She huffed and stood and moved a pace away, then stopped and spoke over her shoulder.

“Just consider my feelings before involving me.”

I nodded and she went back to the Woven Vine. I smiled to myself.

“You’re going out of your way to keep her on side,” Alator mumbled, eyes still closed.

“Thought you were sleeping.”

“I am asleep.”