The giant’s silver brows rose. ‘Is that what they say in the lowlands?’ He shook his head. ‘I am Buri, but I am not eldest. Come, I will take you to shelter.’ And the ancient being bent down, lifted him and set off with him in his arms like a child. Above his mane of white hair, the dancing curves of the Realm-Lights circled his head like a crown.

When Orman next awoke he lay in a cave, a glittering cave of ice. A fire burned over exposed naked granite. He was alone; he allowed his eye to fall shut once more and slept again.

The mouth-watering scent of roasting meat roused him. He opened his eye to see a large bird carcass roasting over the fire. Buri sat opposite, watching him, his long thin naked arms and legs akimbo.

‘What is a child of the lowlands doing here amid the icefields?’ the ancient one repeated.

And Orman told him everything. Slowly, piece by piece, while he picked at the roasted bird. Including his shameful behaviour at the stream. The loss of his half-brother. All this Buri took in without making a sound. He started only once, when Orman described how he jammed Svalthbrul into the stones and Lotji took it.

When he finished, both were silent for a time. The fire snapped and crackled between them. Dawn’s light brightened the ice cave opening with a pink glow. Finally, Orman could stand the silence no longer and cleared his throat. ‘Will you not come, then? Lend your help? Your clan is sorely outnumbered. The invaders must number in the thousands.’

Buri raised his gaze from the fire. In the light of the flames, his great mane of hair and beard, so pale as to be colourless, now glowed orange and red. His eyes however held a deep amber radiance, like embers themselves. ‘No, little brother. I am gathering my strength.’

‘Gathering your— The enemy is upon us! Now is the time to act. Surely …’

But the ancient shook his head. He crossed his legs, rested his elbows on his knees. ‘These invaders, these pathetic seekers after gold and riches … they are not the true enemy. It is for others that I am preparing.’

‘Who—’

Buri silenced him with a raised hand. ‘What must be done is clear.’

And Orman believed he knew exactly what the ancient meant. He hung his head. ‘Yes.’

‘You know what you must do.’

‘Yes.’

‘You must return and challenge Lotji for possession of Svalthbrul.’

Orman, his head lowered, nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘Very good.’ Buri rose smoothly, towered over Orman. ‘I will show you the swiftest descent.’

At the base of a looming cliff of ice, Orman waved to Buri, a nearly indistinguishable shape amid the cornices and curves of snow above. Then the ancient was gone. Nearby, a waterfall pounded the bare rocks and gravel. The stream wound into a forest of spruce and pine. Orman followed it.