Pilgrim’s nephew, Amity, was a sturdy pup a little over two years old, pleasingly bold and curious. Asking if the ant inside Pilgrim’s amber pendant was real, wanting to know if Pilgrim walked with a stick because he had hurt his leg.

‘I was born with one leg weaker than the other,’ Pilgrim said. ‘And I’ve grown so used to it that I hardly notice it anymore.’

‘He doesn’t mean anything by it,’ Willow said, smiling at Pilgrim over her son’s sleek head.

‘I’m pleased to see that he’s as inquisitive as I was, at his age.’

‘Do you really live in the capital?’ Amity said.

‘In a little town called Highwater Reach, on the other side of the river. Have your teachers ever told you about the Library of All People?’

Amity shook his head.

‘It is a collection of books and many other things from all over the Union. Scholars who study in it mostly live in Highwater Reach. I was the secretary to one of those scholars.’

‘We learnt about the capital in geography,’ Amity said. ‘It’s called Concord. It’s smaller than the territory but lots more people live in it.’

‘The very definition of a city.’

‘And it’s a long long long long way away.’

‘On the other side of the Union. I came here by train. Do you know what a train is?’

‘Of course!’ Amity said scornfully. ‘Did you come to see me?’

‘And your mother, and my mother – your grandmother Thorn. I brought you a gift,’ Pilgrim said. ‘It’s in my wallet. Why don’t you look for it?’

It was a bestiary more than a hundred years old, its entries organised by a quaintly outdated phylogeny and illustrated with hand-tinted plates. Amity paged through it with rising excitement, pointing to animals and birds he recognised, asking about others he didn’t.

‘It’s almost bedtime,’ Willow told him. ‘Why don’t I help you get ready, and then your uncle can tell you about some of those beasts.’