Noise of a footfall brought his attention to a figure climbing the stairs. It was the youth he’d glimpsed minding the cattle. The lad might be younger than he, but stood fully as tall, though lean and gangly. Orman thought him perhaps thirteen. He carried a spear much too large for him.

The youth gave him a solemn nod. ‘Welcome to Sayer Hall. I am Jass.’

Orman inclined his head. ‘Orman.’

The youth faced the south, gestured down the valley slope. ‘You are just come from the southern lands, yes?’

‘Yes.’

‘You have been to Reach?’

‘Yes.’

‘You have been to Mantle town?’

‘Twice. When I was young.’

‘They say there is a keep in Mantle. A Greathall, but built of stone. Is this so?’

Orman glanced to Jass and caught him studying him; the lad quickly looked away. ‘Yes. Taller even than your hall.’

The youth pulled at his lip. ‘I thought it a story. You have been to Many Saints?’

‘No.’

The lad frowned, disappointed. ‘But you have seen the shores of the Sea of Gold?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Is it true that they are lined in gold?’

Orman smiled to himself. ‘There is some gold in the sands of its beaches. But it is mostly gone now, sifted out over the years. You would like to see the southern lands? Broken Sword? Lillin?’

The youth looked affronted and clasped the spear in both hands. ‘Not at all. I’m just curious, that’s all.’

Orman worked to keep his face expressionless. How things were the same everywhere! How like himself and his own friends, yearning to see distant lands. Yet this one was an Iceblood – one of the legendary fiends of his own upbringing. Forest demons and child stealers. Dwellers in the misty forests of Joggenhome. He remembered how the mothers of his homestead invoked the name to quiet their children. ‘Behave! Or the Icebloods will take you!’ Now, standing next to one of their kind, all he could think of was how very similar this lad seemed to him.

He inclined his head in farewell. ‘Good night, then.’

Jass answered the gesture with a formal short bow. ‘Good night. You may sleep well. I will guard.’

Orman turned away to hide his smile. ‘My thanks.’

*

He awoke to licks in the face and dog breath. Groggy, he pushed the hound away and sat up, wiped his mouth. An old heavy-set woman was setting out bread and jugs on the long table. Leal, he assumed. She gave him a nod in greeting. Apart from the two of them, the hall was empty.

Great bellows and roaring sounded from without. Leal chuckled and shook her head. At his puzzled look, she pointed to the rear. He headed that way. To either side of the slight dais slim passages led to the very rear of the building. Here doors opened on to private chambers. Beyond these, he came to a kitchen area and further narrow doors that opened out to the rear. The bellows and laughter were coming from there.