He’d always had a difficult relationship with his mother. She was a strong-willed and decisive person with a clear vision of what needed to be done and how to achieve it, and had never allowed him to make excuses or avoid challenges because of his lameness or, when it became evident, his ‘condition’. If he had to work harder than others to overcome his handicaps, she had told him, it would instil resilience and self-control that would serve him well later in life. And if he failed after trying his best, then at least it would be an honourable failure. Better that than never trying at all. At the time, he had often resented her unrelenting discipline, but now he was grateful that she had trained him to be focused and conscientious. Qualities that had served him well as Master Able’s secretary; qualities that he hoped would help him make good his ambition to finish his master’s work. And although Thorn was more admired than well-liked, for she was not concerned with pleasing others and was very particular about choosing whom she could trust, she had become a leading voice in the tribe’s community, an important and energetic mover and shaker. Pilgrim didn’t doubt that the innovations Blessed had mentioned were largely due to her, and knew that if he could convince her about the importance of his plans the rest of the aunties would fall into line behind her.

She was waiting for him in her office, dressed like Willow in work clothes – a tan vest, high-waisted trews, reedstem sandals. No adornments except for the usual tattoos of a woman of her age and standing, and the bracelet of braided goat hair that she wore on her left wrist in remembrance of her long-dead partner, Pilgrim’s father. She greeted him briskly, as if he had been away for six days rather than six years. There was no embrace. Overt displays of affection had never been her style. Instead, they settled on hassocks on either side of a low table, and Thorn poured tea, one of Willow’s blends, into thimble cups, and thanked him for his letter and expressed sympathy for Master Able’s death.

‘You know that I did not approve of Bearbane making arrangements behind my back, but you seem to have served his scholar friend well enough. I understand that he had been unwell for a long time, but the end must have been a shock, even so.’

Pilgrim told her that it had been, and still was, but she was already pressing on.

‘You mentioned that you had plans to finish a monograph. If you came here looking for a place where you can work undisturbed, I’m sure we can accommodate you. And if you are uncertain about what to do with yourself once you have finished, I have a few suggestions. We can discuss them when you are ready.’