Pilgrim handed over the catalogue he had made, but after thumbing through its loose pages the constable threw it aside and told Pilgrim that all he needed to know and see was the books that might fetch a good price.

‘I’m talking about the very best of the best. Don’t try to palm me off with rubbish.’

‘If you mean the books I think worth sending to my tribe, there is a separate list. The last two pages at the end of the catalogue,’ Pilgrim said, as calmly as he could. He felt faintly sick, was trying his best not to meet the yellow gaze of the cur, which sat taut and alert beside its master. He knew that books weren’t what the constable had come for.

Noble Seatree read out several titles from the list and demanded to see them.

‘They are in the boxes under the table. Packed and ready to ship,’ Pilgrim said.

‘What about that map? Which I can’t seem to find any mention of in this list.’

‘Also packed.’

‘Show me.’

Pilgrim had made a tube of layered, varnished paper to protect it. He fetched the tube from its hiding place on a high shelf behind ancient account books and carefully extracted the map, his heart jumping when Noble Seatree snatched it from him and held it by one edge and shook it until it unrolled.

‘Still doesn’t look valuable,’ he said.

‘Because it isn’t,’ Pilgrim said.

‘If I ripped it in half would it be worth half as much or twice as much?’

That cold smile. That flat, challenging gaze. The cur was watching Pilgrim too, ragged ears pricked up.

Pilgrim said, as calmly as he could, ‘It wouldn’t make any difference to its value, but I would have to explain how it came to be damaged.’

‘We could say that Chieftain got hold of it,’ Noble Seatree said, wafting the map before the cur’s snout, smiling when he saw Pilgrim’s distress. ‘He’s famous for eating almost anything. Bones, shoes, belts … He ate a shark washed up on the beach one time. Only a baby shark, truth be told, but he left only the liver and the teeth. We could say he ate this map, and sell it and split the proceeds.’

‘Anyone who bought it would have to explain how they came by a unique item known to have been found in the library owned by my tribe.’

‘So you said before.’

‘It’s what would happen,’ Pilgrim said, and a dizzy wave of relief washed through him when the constable dropped the map onto the table and told him to fetch out the boxes of books.

He rummaged inside them, dropping books on the table, on the floor, setting aside two, three, five, placing his hand flat on top of the little stack and asking Pilgrim what they were worth.