Dizzy with relief, he clapped his new friend on the knee. “Means a lot to hear you say that. Means more to know I’m believed.”

“Good to know I’m useful,” said Bannet, almost amused. “But what else I can do, I ain’t sure.”

“You can sit by while I find the others I dreamed. For I won’t rest easy ’til this is settled.”

“Settled how?”

He frowned. “I don’t know. Not yet. Will you stay? Could take me a while.”

“I’ll stay.”

So he left Bannet to his own musings and went in search of those other Olken, folk his instinct told him would help save Lur. Searched for them, found them, learned their names and then persuaded them to meet him at the eastern edge of the village, at first light. Just like Bannet, they seemed strangely unsurprised. And with every nod, every tentative smile, Jervale felt that odd twist of rightness.

Could be I’ve not mucked this up after all.

He returned to his tent, light-headed with the first hope he’d felt for days.

“Done?” said Bannet.

He nodded. “Done. We’ll talk it over in the morning.”

“Then best we get some shut-eye,” said Bannet, standing. “I’ll wish you pleasant dreams.”

And some time in the night he did dream, a blizzard of faces and knowings, so when he woke before dawn… he woke knowing what to do.

Barl startled out of sleep to the torment of Morgan’s lips soft on hers. To the echo of his mocking voice, his breath sighing against her skin.

“My love, my love, don’t worry. We’ll be together soon.”

She sat up, heart pounding. “No!”

The tent flap was pulled open. She never left it that way. And then, in the dawn gloom, she realised she wasn’t alone.

“It’s all right!” Venette said swiftly. “It’s me, Barl. Not—it’s me.”

“Venette? What are you—”

“I’ve something to tell you. About Remmie. He’s—”

“Gone,” Barl whispered, feeling his absence like a limb cut off, and snapped her fingers for glimfire. The light showed her Venette, somehow elegant in her roughspun shift, cross-legged on the tent floor. Her eyes were hollow, and haunted. “Oh, my lady. What have you done?”

Waiting for Bannet and the others, Jervale felt oddly serene. Bad times were coming to Lur, he knew that without a doubt. But he’d not live to see them. And before the bad times, there’d be good times. Years and years of them, he knew that too. Which, also oddly, was a comfort.

And as it stands, I’ll take what comfort I can find.

One by one, the Olken he’d dreamed of joined him, bleary-eyed in the early woodland light. Bannet came last, still lacing up his shirt.

“Right, then,” Jervale said, nodding. “Let’s find us a place to chat.”