‘I was raised to work on a livestock farm.’ He frowned at his answer and gave a small shake of his head, knowing that that was no longer the case. ‘But now? Now I don’t know.’

‘A great warrior, perhaps?’ the priest said.

‘I hope not. I have no taste for killing,’ murmured Lann.

‘The weapon hanging at your side would suggest otherwise,’ said the priest. ‘As would the words you spoke when you fought Oknhammer. Kurum-na murt? Death is coming.’

Lann stared. ‘You know that language?’

‘It has not been spoken for hundreds of years. But yes, I know some of it. It is the language of the gods. The old gods.’ He fixed the boy with a look. ‘The true gods.’

Lann gestured at the priest’s red robes. ‘You are a minister of the new religion. I thought only country oafs like me or witches like my aunt believed in the old gods now. What do you know about them?’ Lann asked.

The priest looked down and frowned, as if seeing the garb for the first time. ‘I wear the robes of one who believes in this new god, Geshtrik. But I am no more a priest for this false deity than you are.’ He ran a hand over the fabric. ‘They hide me. Just as you wear your own disguise, Lannigon Gudbrandr-who-was-Fetlanger.’

Lann shook his head. ‘I wear no disguise.’

The man frowned. ‘Not knowingly.’

‘The way you speak in riddles – it is like one of the old gods.’

‘Oh? Which?’

‘Rakur.’

‘You speak as if you have met the immortal one.’ That quizzical look again, but this time Lann met it only with a stare of his own. ‘Rakur is indeed a riddler. But questions lead us to truths. Not all riddles are childish puzzles.’ The man paused. ‘The sword,’ he said, effortlessly switching the subject in a way that caught Lann off guard. ‘It is dangerous. You must be the one to control it, and not the other way round. Like the trickster god, it is adept at bending others to its will and making them its slave. If that should happen, it may not just be your enemies it would seek to kill. Other owners of the blade have lost those they loved to that baleful weapon.’ The man went quiet, lost in thought or memories.

‘You have not told me your name.’

‘No, I haven’t, have I?’ He smiled again. ‘Would you like to see something?’

‘What?’

‘It is not far from here.’ Lann tried to read the man’s enigmatic expression. ‘I mean you no harm, Lannigon Gudbrandr.’

Lann considered the man’s words and eventually nodded. ‘All right.’

At this, the red-robed stranger turned and left the building, not once bothering to look back and check if the boy followed.

*    *    *