“Chosen,” Janx repeated. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

Avery didn’t either, but he was distracted by Mailos talking with the leader of the village men, then turning to them. “The headman says this is indeed Sevu and that we can stay here for the night. He asked if we are the ones who helped his people earlier, and when I said yes, he grew very grateful. They’re giving us their nicest accommodations, and will feast and entertain us accordingly.”

“What about the ghost flower?” Avery said. “Do they know how to harvest its nectar?”

Mailos turned again to the headman and asked him a question. The headman spoke, this time to Avery, although of course Avery couldn’t understand a word.

“He says his people have harvested the ghost flower nectar for centuries. It’s their principal source of trade with the outside world,” Mailos said. “They only deal with a certain merchant, however.”

“Tell them we have a contract with his seal.” Avery provided the paperwork, and the lieutenant scanned it, then passed it over. The villagers examined it, then spoke again.

“They say they’ll help us harvest the nectar,” Mailos said.

Avery smiled, feeling another wave of relief.

“It’s almost over,” he told Layanna, Hildra and Janx. “We’re almost there.”

They stared at him, and it was a moment before Avery realized what he’d said.

It was too late to take back.

Chapter 7

“So this is the best accommodations, huh?” Hildra said, glancing around at the dilapidated, earthen-floored shack. “Gods help me, but I’ve become soft, cause I wouldn’t want to see their worst accommodations.”

“It ain’t so bad,” Janx said.

Avery didn’t want to say so, but he agreed with Hildra. A turquoise spider scuttled up into the shadows of a corner and vanished into a hole, leaving a fishy-smelling web behind. The whole place leaned to one side and stank of mildew, and in the flickering light of the lantern stains showed on every lichen-covered wall.

“It’ll do for the night,” he said.

Layanna said nothing, but she seemed tired. Avery wondered if he was supposed to sleep next to her or not. He supposed not.

“One thing, Doc,” Janx said, and Avery glanced up to see the big man looking pensive. “What Mailos said back there, it wasn’t quite right.”

“No?”

Janx shook his head. “Remember, I spent some time in the area, and I picked up some of the language. That witchy woman, she didn’t say she was takin’ Xarris to a healing place—she said to the Hall of the Chosen.” In a grave voice, he added, “There’s enough like Xarris for a whole hall.”

“Fuck that,” said Hildra.

“Maybe the lieutenant didn’t want to alarm us,” Avery said, but he felt a thrill of fear lift the hairs on the back of his neck just the same.

They finished arranging their things, such as they were, then joined the others outside. The night had grown cool, and hootings and insectile chirrups rose from the jungle all around. Avery saw a group of children playing a game, and he was struck by how similar it was to one he had played as a boy, and yet how strikingly different. The kids would take turns putting on something that Avery at first took to be a helmet or mask, then realized it was the very real head (or at least shell) of some local, possibly insect-like creature, armored and mandibled and freakish; the boy or girl who wore the head, with its clutch of black eyes, would chase the others until he caught one, and then that child would have to wear the head and chase the others.

The villagers provided their guests with simple food, chicken from livestock they’d raised themselves, and which the soldiers insisted on inspecting (finding the poultry non-diseased) before eating. As he tucked into his meal, Avery noticed a large structure in the middle of the village on a sort of rise. He assumed it to belong to the chief, but, when he mentioned it, a native replied, by way of Janx, “No, that’s the Hall of the Chosen.”

“Then that’s where Xarris was taken?” Avery said. “The Chosen Man we brought with us?”

Again, through Janx: “Yes, of course. It’s where they all go.”

“Just how many of them are there?”

The man wrinkled his face as he spoke, and Janx translated with, “I don’t know. Thirty, forty ...”

“That many—from a town so small?” Avery said. “Just what is this illness?”

“It is no illness,” the man said, by way of Janx. “They are chosen.”

“For what? And by whom?”

The man muttered something under his breath and walked off.

“Perhaps I’d better see this Hall for myself,” Avery said.

With Lt. Mailos, he approached the headman and asked permission to inspect the building. “It is impossible,” the headman said, having to enunciate around his tusks.

“I’m a doctor. Perhaps I could help the sick.”

Mailos translated, and the headman replied, “Only priestesses are allowed in there.” Around him villagers voiced confirmation, shooting Avery suspicious, even outright hostile looks. The children that had been playing earlier had stopped.

“Leave it be, Doc,” Janx said. “Don’t piss off your host. Rule to live by.”

“A human life is at stake,” Avery reminded him. “Maybe more. Apparently there are scores of theses sickened men and women inside that hall. With proper time and equipment, I might be able to help them.”

Mailos translated this before Avery could stop him, and the villagers, as a body, rose to their feet, speaking angrily.

“I don’t like the look of this,” Hildra said.

With shocking speed, villagers cordoned off the lane leading to the so-called Hall of the Chosen. Several took aggressive steps toward Avery, and he backed away.

“Hold tight,” Janx said, coming to Avery’s defense, along with Hildra and the soldiers, putting themselves between Avery and the tribesmen.

The villagers came on. Shouting and gesturing angrily, they pushed up against the line of soldiers, forcing them to give up ground. Other villagers joined the aggressors, shouting furiously. The children that had been playing fled. Off to the side, the air shimmered around Layanna. Dear gods. Avery realized they were moments away from a massacre. She would destroy the entire town.

“Tell them I was wrong!” he said, hearing the yelp in his voice. “Tell them I’ll leave it alone! I’ll leave the Hall of the Chosen alone!”

Mailos spoke quickly, loudly, and the headman barked something to the mob, which began to settle down, bit by bit. Avery, heart pounding, stomach churning, could barely keep down what he’d eaten.

“I would respect the local customs from now on,” Mailos said, his dark face gray, and Avery nodded wordlessly.

To his immense relief, Layanna relaxed, and the air around her returned to normal. Avery looked closely at her, trying to read the expression on her face as she gazed back at him, but could not. That night, while Janx and Hildra were snoring in their corner, Avery went to her. She allowed him to curl up behind her and wrap one of his arms around her.

“That was a close one earlier,” she said, and he knew her well enough to know she said it for lack of anything better to say. She would only do that if she were nervous. For some reason, that encouraged him. If she were nervous, that meant this—well, him, or them possibly—mattered to her.