‘You could look for Keld, Rab. The sooner we find him, the sooner we can all go back to Dun Seren. We last saw him there,’ Sig said, pointing north-east towards a line of hills.

The white crow puffed his chest up, white feathers bristling.

‘It would be very helpful,’ Cullen said, scratching Rab’s neck. ‘We’re worried for Keld. And we’d be grateful.’

Rab is helpful,’ the crow squawked, his head bobbing up and down. ‘And Rab like Keld.’ The crow looked up at Sig. ‘Rab look for Keld,’ he said, as if the idea were Rab’s own.

‘Thank you,’ Cullen said, nudging Sig with his elbow.

‘My thanks,’ Sig said with a grunt.

‘Welcome,’ Rab said and hopped off the rampart, wings spreading, catching an updraught, and then the crow was climbing higher, circling over their heads.

‘Rab back soon,’ the crow squawked, and then it was winging away.

‘Ah, he’s a good bird,’ Cullen said with a smile.

Sig raised an eyebrow.

‘He is,’ Cullen said. ‘Always eager to help, that one. And I feel sorry for him. The other crows in the tower are not always kind to him.’

‘Are they not?’ Sig frowned.

‘No. I think it’s because of his feathers.’ Cullen shrugged. ‘To my mind it’s wrong to fault a bird for the colour feathers it’s born with, don’t you think?’

‘Huh,’ Sig grunted. She did agree, but she was wondering more about why Cullen knew so much about the behaviour of crows in their tower at Dun Seren. Rab was not the only talking crow that resided at the fortress.

‘Well, I’m glad Rab has you to look out for him,’ Sig said. She sighed, long and thoughtful. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘I’m hungry, let’s find us some hot food. And after that, I need to talk to Queen Nara, and you’d best come with me. She is your distant kin, after all.’

Nara, Queen of Ardain, was sitting in the high chair of Uthandun’s great keep, tall, for a human, dark-haired with a pale face. She was wrapped in a thick bear pelt, silver wire wound through her hair, a long knife sheathed at her belt, which Sig approved of. The feast-hall was mostly empty, one man poking at the central fire-pit, stirring embers up and adding logs. As Sig and Cullen arrived, Queen Nara was deep in conversation with Elgin, her battlechief. He had a bandage wound around his head, souvenir of the battle with the Kadoshim’s acolytes. Another man stood at Nara’s shoulder: Madoc, the Queen’s first-sword.

Sig stopped a respectful distance away, Cullen at her side, but Nara gestured them forwards with an impatient flick of her wrist.