But I wasn’t safe from my nightmares. Hunted by a slithering mass of snakes, I scrambled through the jungle. They wrapped around my ankles, yanking me down. Unable to move, they sank fangs, dripping with Curare deep into my flesh. “Come with us,” the snakes hissed.

“Cousin?” a timid voice asked.

I awoke with a loud cry. A petite woman with large eyes stepped back in alarm. Her brown hair was streaked with yellow and tied back with a leather cord. Stains lined the white fabric of her dress.

“The elders will see you now.”

I peered at the sky, but sheets of clouds obscured the sun. “How long was I asleep?”

The woman smiled. “All day. Follow me please.”

I looked at my bow, knowing it would be an insult to bring it, yet wanting it anyway. With reluctance, I left it on the ground and followed the woman. Questions swirled in my mind as we passed the tents, but I bit my lip to prevent myself from voicing them. Wait, wait, I thought, quelling my impatience. Unfortunately, diplomacy was a dance I needed to learn.

The woman stopped at the largest tent. The animal patterns almost covered the white fabric. She swept back a panel and gestured for me to enter. I stepped into the tent, waiting in the muted light for my eyes to adjust.

“You may approach,” said a male voice from the far side of the tent.

I surveyed the interior as I crossed to the back. Maroon and tan rugs woven with intricate geometric patterns covered the floor of the round tent. I spotted some sleeping mats and colorful pillows on the left. Bigger pillows on the right surrounded a low table, and candleholders with long red tassels hung from the ceiling.

Sitting cross-legged in a row on an ebony-and-gold mat were two men and a woman. One I recognized. Moon Man smiled at me from between the man and woman. His skin was now painted yellow. Wrinkles creased the face of the other man, and the woman’s hair was peppered with gray. Both wore red robes.

I halted in shock as the sudden image of my red prison robe, tattered and bloody, rose in my mind. I hadn’t thought of that garment since Valek offered me the option of being executed or becoming the Commander’s food taster. I had cast it aside and accepted the Ixian uniform without a backward glance. Odd that I should think of it now. Or had Story Weaver pulled those thoughts from my mind? I peered at

Moon Man with suspicion.

“Sit,” said the woman. She gestured to a small round rug on the floor in front of them.

I settled into the same position as my hosts.

“A Zaltana who has traveled far. You have returned to your ancestors to seek guidance,” the man said. His dark eyes brimmed with knowledge and his gaze pierced my soul.

“I seek understanding,” I said.

“Your journey has twisted and bent. Your journey has stained you with blood and pain and death. You must be cleansed.” The man nodded to Story Weaver.

Moon Man rose. From under the mat, he pulled a scimitar. The sharp edge of the long blade gleamed in the candlelight.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Moon Man advanced. He rested the curved blade of the scimitar on my left shoulder with the sharp edge dangerously close to my neck.

“Are you ready to be cleansed?” he asked.

My throat tightened. “What? How?” My mouth stumbled over the words. All logic fled.

“We take the stains of blood, pain and death from you. We take your blood and cause you pain. You will atone for your misdeeds with your eventual death and be welcomed into the sky.”

One word cut through the jumble of fear in my mind. Sudden clarity focused my thoughts. I stood with deliberate care, trying not to jostle the weapon, and stepped back. The blade remained poised in midair.

“I have no misdeeds to atone for. I hold no remorse for my past actions and, therefore, do not need to be cleansed.” I braced for their reaction. Diplomacy be damned.

Moon Man grinned and the two elders nodded in approval. Confused I watched him replace the scimitar under the mat and settled back into his position. “That is the correct response,” he said.

“What if I had agreed?”

“Then we would have sent you away with only a few cryptic remarks to puzzle over.” He laughed. “I must admit I am slightly disappointed. I worked all afternoon on those remarks.”

“Sit,” the woman ordered. “What do you seek to understand?”

I chose my words with great care as I sat on the mat. “A beast has been preying on young women throughout Sitia. To date, he has killed ten and injured one. I want to stop him. I seek to understand who he is.”

“Why come to us?” the woman asked.

“He has been using a certain substance as a weapon. I’m concerned that he might have stolen it from one of your clan members.” I waited, hoping the word “stolen” would not imply guilt.

“Ah, yes, this substance,” the old man said. “A blessing and a curse. A package from Esau Liana Sandseed Zaltana arrived at one of our villages near the Daviian Plateau. That village was raided soon after by the Daviian Vermin.” The old man spat on the dirt floor. “Many things were stolen in that raid.”

His scorn for these Vermin was obvious, but I asked anyway. “Who are these Vermin?”

The elders tightened their jaws, refusing to reply.

Frowning, Moon Man explained them to me. “They are young men and women who have rebelled against our traditions. They have broken from the clan and settled on the Plateau. The Plateau does not give up its bounty without a fight. The Vermin prefer to steal from us rather than work to grow their own food.”