There was a table and bench for their letters, with sheaves of parchment, quills, pots of ink, blotters, a supply of salt and powders of ground cuttlefish. If writing was not required, there were other chairs that they would usually take – more comfortable, covered in leather and fur – usually used when a subject that required a level of deeper thinking was being taught.

Bleda took one look at Alcyon’s huge hands and concluded that he would not be teaching the art of letters, and so sat in a more comfortable chair of leather, draped with fur. Jin followed suit, though she dragged her chair over so that she was much closer to Bleda.

‘What are you teaching us, then, with that knowledgeable brain of yours?’ Jin asked Alcyon, keeping her face free of the sarcasm Bleda was sure lurked behind her dark eyes. She wiped a stray strand of her jet-black hair from her face, her glance flickering to Bleda, the hint of a smile twitching her lips.

Alcyon walked around the table and sat on the bench, the wood creaking. He smiled and spread his arms wide.

‘What would you like me to teach you?’

‘Jibril never gives us a choice!’ Jin said, surprised.

Bleda shot her a dark look.

‘Strategies of war,’ Bleda said hurriedly, thinking to make the most of this slip in Ben-Elim discipline.

Alcyon frowned, his massive brow bunching like a storm cloud.

‘And how does Jibril teach that?’ he rumbled.

‘Battles are described, the forces involved, opposing sides. Numbers, styles of combat, strengths, weaknesses. Strategies and tactics,’ Bleda said with a wave of his hand. Jin looked at him, a broad smile, smoothed away quickly.

‘Ah, I see,’ Alcyon said, regarding them both thoughtfully. Bleda thought he’d seen through his plan, but then Alcyon nodded. ‘All right then. The Battle of Drassil. Midwinter’s Day, the first Year of Lore.’

‘We’ve heard that one so many times,’ Bleda said. It was true, they had. All about the Ben-Elim’s triumphant entry into the Banished Lands, saving the beleaguered forces of mankind from the overwhelming numbers of Kadoshim and their terrible allies. Jin pulled a bored face.

‘What battle, then?’ Alcyon said.

‘Name some,’ Bleda said with a shrug.

‘The Battle of Dun Bagul: that one was fought twenty years after Drassil.’ He looked at them both.

‘Can we hear a few others, then choose?’ Jin asked sweetly.

Alcyon shrugged, making his bench creak again. ‘The Battle of Haldis, a few years before Drassil. Domhain Pass. Gramm’s Hold, Taur—’

‘What about the Battle of Varan Falls,’ Bleda said.

Alcyon frowned at him. ‘How have you heard of that one?’ he asked.

‘Jibril’s mentioned it,’ Jin said.

‘He has?’

He did, but only to dismiss the idea of ever telling us about it.

‘Why would you think he wouldn’t?’ Bleda asked Alcyon.