But not even the Mother could unpick that thread. It was what it was. He had badly hurt a person. Blinded him. Crippled him. It was now up to the aunties, rather than the men’s council, to decide his fate, and when he gave them his account of what had happened he did not ask for clemency. Said that he did not want or expect that Creed’s intentions or his own actions afterwards, tending the man as best he could before riding to the nearest lodge to ask for help, should be taken into account. He expected to be punished and knew that he deserved it.

He was exiled to a hut in the high pastures while the aunties discussed how he could make amends. No one guarded or watched over him; his promise to stay there until the verdict was delivered was deemed to be sufficient. Silence, solitude, day after day of fine sunny weather. It should have been a perfect opportunity to reread Master Able’s notes and think about how to complete the monograph, but Pilgrim was unable to concentrate on any of that, and besides, there was no point. He had lost what little chance he had of winning his tribe’s support, and it seemed that he had lost any advantage he might have over Master Mindwell, too. After sending a tapcode message to Swift and Ardent, he’d received a reply confirming Intrepid Windrush’s story about the Sweetwater Collective’s purchase of Master Able’s papers and the grant given to Master Mindwell. For all of their talk of honour, the Collective’s money had persuaded Able’s kin to set aside their scruples, his friends had written, adding that Mindwell had appointed an assistant who had set out for the New Territories to interview witnesses old and new and visit the locations of sightings, just as Pilgrim had planned to do before his disgrace.

The assistant is someone you might know. Earnest Smallhill, one of the bookrunner tribe. Not the brightest of fellows, but methodical.

So there it was. The race was lost before it had fairly begun. Worse than knowing that he had failed himself was knowing that he had failed his dead master.

At last, Blessed rode out to the hut and told Pilgrim that the aunties had made their judgement, and when Pilgrim appeared before them for the second time it went quickly. He was told that Thorn had suggested where he should be sent and the work he must do, and the rest of the aunties had agreed to act on her recommendation. After a year he would stand before them again, and would be freed if he could show that he had fulfilled the terms of his sentence and exhibited the proper degree of humility and contrition.

‘I don’t deserve it,’ Pilgrim told Willow the next day.