22

Perhaps your eloquence impresses the creature. It does not answer you, but it does not withdraw. You take that as tacit approval, and advance.

And then the Sihaunaba steps out of the darkness of the overhanging trees. It stands before you, a tall, thin woman, a gray bridal veil covering her face. And yet, in her smell, in her very aura, hangs the scent of something distinctly animal.

"You have come to parley with Esme, she who is death," says the Sihuanaba, her voice rumbling like the low register of a bassoon. "What do you want?"