‘I did not run away from my home to become a goldsmith,’ she said very quietly, so that despite craned necks and obvious attention the lower table could not hear. ‘I was already apprenticed, and would have stayed at Hillfair. Many Abhorsens have been metalworkers, particularly bell-founders, of course. I left because … because …’

‘You do not need to speak of it,’ said Harven, covering her hand with his own. For once, he was not looking at his shoes. ‘It is enough to say that things happened there that were misunderstood …’

‘No,’ said Jaciel softly. ‘You should know, for it may help you understand that your own problems are petty ones. And you may meet your grandfather and aunt soon. They may wish it so, even though we do not, and will not ever, speak.’

She paused and looked down at the lower table, where everyone suddenly turned away and started eating again with faked enthusiasm.

‘Go,’ said Jaciel, only a little louder than she had been speaking before, but her words carried through the hall like a trumpet. ‘Take your plates to the courtyard. All of you. Go!’

There was a moment when no one moved, followed by a sudden clatter and bustle as everyone moved at once, eager not to be the last one to leave the room. Several apprentices crashed together in the door and fought to get out, doubtless inflicting minor injuries with the deliberately blunted knives and three-tined forks that were all they were allowed, given their propensity for using them on one another.

When they were gone, the hall strangely quiet, Jaciel continued as if there had been no interruption.

‘I will tell you this once, and once only. I left Hillfair because my father believed that I had killed my brother.’

Clariel heard the words, but it was as if she couldn’t understand them, that they were some strange language that might as well be grunts and coughs. Surely she had misheard? She opened her mouth to say so, say that she didn’t understand, but her mother was talking again, not looking at her, but staring into the air as if it were a window to a time long past and, as much as possible, forgotten.

‘Teriel was the youngest of the three of us. I am eldest, then Yannael, who is Abhorsen-in-Waiting now, then Teriel. Back then it was Teriel who was the greater Charter Mage, the only one of us who wished to become the Abhorsen, the one who delved in those arts …’

She paused for a moment, her eyes unfocused, seeing who knew what.

‘Teriel alone sought to learn the use of the bells, to venture into Death and back again, to command and banish the Dead. But he sought too deeply, for one day he came to my forge. His eyes were strange, reflecting no light … I saw that he was no longer my brother, but instead something that wore his flesh like a coat.’