“You,” he said, pointing again. “Have you and me chinwagged since I got to Gribley?”

The man he singled out shook his head. “Just to say good morning.”

“Your wife’s nibby-cakes give you a gripe but you ain’t got the dibble to tell her.”

A ripple of nervous laughter, as the man’s mouth dropped wide. Looking again to Chaffie, Jervale felt his eyes drift almost closed.

“When you were a tiddy girl in Crick hamlet, Elder Chaffie, your best friend paid no never-mind to her mama and she drowned down the well.”

Chaffie gasped. “I’ve not told a soul in Gribley of that.”

“I could spend half the night plucking folks’ secrets,” he said, suddenly weary. “Can’t see what good I’d do. Either you believe me, or you don’t. But ask yourself this. I’m Olken. Why would I lie for a Doranen mage?”

The other Olken murmured, heads nodding. Pursing her lips, Chaffie turned to the Doranen. “You’ve not put him up to this?”

“No,” said Barl Lindin. “We will have your help honestly, or we’ll not have it at all.”

With a glance at the crowd, Chaffie sighed. “We’d help if we could, but we ain’t got magic.”

“No,” said Barl Lindin, carefully. “But you do have your singing. That’s what I need.”

“Our singing?” Chaffie looked taken aback. “How d’you know about that?”

Jervale bit his tongue. If Barl Lindin answered truthfully, she’d likely land him in such strife…

“I’m a mage, Elder Chaffie,” she said, grave. “I know many things.”

Elder Chaffie swallowed. “And our singing’s all you want?”

“Yes. That’s all.”

As relieved muttering broke out, Jervale felt a nasty prickle of foreboding.

No, that ain’t all. Here’s where things start to turn rotten.

But before he could sound a caution, Barl Lindin’s brother gave her an almost unfriendly look and stepped forward. “I’m sorry, Elder Chaffie. My sister does not make herself clear. She needs you to abandon your singing. She needs to take Lur’s power, and use it, and leave none of it for you.”

Fresh uproar, filling the hall to its rafters. Staring at Barl Lindin, Jervale saw that her brother was right… and in that heartbeat every dreadful dream of black hail and crimson lightning and calamity battered through him.

We can’t let her do that. If we give her our earth songs we’ll be jumping ourselves off a cliff, just like poor Ma Gammil.

He didn’t know the how of it. He didn’t know the why. He only knew this meant disaster, just as he knew that back home, Tam and Rinna were mourning their dead son.

“Please!” Barl Lindin shouted. “Hear me out!”

But no-one was listening… so again, she used her glimfire to stun the hall into silence.