‘You can talk to them without me. Find out what they want from you and what they’ll give in return. Whatever it is, whatever you agree, I’ll go along with it,’ Gentle said, blotting fragments of oatcake with a broad thumb, licking it. ‘And I’ll be there in good time, I promise. But I need to do what I need to do. I know you can’t understand that, but hope you realise that it’s best for both of us if you don’t try to stand in my way.’

‘If you aren’t back by nightfall I’ll have to go without you. Leave you here.’

‘I’ve been in worse places. And too often without the comfort of a woman,’ Gentle said, and then he was up and out of the door and clattering down the stairs, singing a verse from a filthy ballad, gone.

To begin with, Pilgrim was not especially worried. He and Teal had agreed that she would signal the arrival of the representatives of the Invisible College by tying a length of white cloth to a branch at the turnoff for the track to Windy Bay. He had gone out to check last night, out of an excess of caution and impatience, and there had been no cloth there then, and there was no cloth there that morning, either.

He told himself that it meant Gentle should have enough time to make his conquest, and with nothing else to do, for he had already packed in anticipation of a quick departure, he spent the morning pottering in the library. Early in the afternoon he went out again to check for the signal, and again found nothing. There was no sign of Gentle either. He tried to read an account of the effects of seasonal changes in animal behaviour written by an ancestor three hundred years ago, but the print swam and swarmed before his eyes and he kept losing the thread of a discussion about the importance of song in establishing the territories of birds. At last he closed the book and slid it into its rightful place on the shelves and, for what he hoped would be the last time, doused the fire in the hearth and blew out the lamps and locked the library’s door.

Dusk had fallen and still Gentle had not returned. Stonehaven’s lights glimmered against a long veil of pinkish light that was fading into the sea and the chilly wind carried faint snatches of a wild drumming as Pilgrim walked down the track to the turnoff, the tip of his cane sinking in soft dirt, tapping on stones. He saw a glimmer low in the clump of trees beside the track to Windy Bay, hurried towards it.

It was there. The white cloth was there. The representatives had arrived, were waiting for him in Teal’s cabin. It was time to go.