The answer is in him somewhere, deep down, hidden away. He knows it’s there, if only he could find it, if only he could fight a way through this fog in his mind. Not just the answer to the Red Giant’s question. But the last piece of the puzzle. The missing part of him.

Dawn breaks at last. His legs won’t bend, his arms ache, sitting up half kills him. There’ll be no making a fire out there; the rain’s still coming down and the wood is soaked. And Grim won’t be coming. It’s too wet for him to work. Without Grim, the day stretches ahead long and empty and hopeless. Nobody to listen. Nobody to hear. Nobody to tell tales and pass the time of day with him over a meal. He did not know how much he had missed those things until Grim brought them back.

Up, wretch, he tells himself. Or have you sunk so low that you’ll piss in your bed for fear of the world outside the door? He forces himself to stand. His joints are an old man’s this morning. A hundred years old. Out, he orders himself.

It’s a matter of pride to walk a certain distance from his hut, rain or no rain, before he empties his bladder. There’s a privy down by the barn, but he’s not allowed to use that any more than he can go in and sleep warm next to the animals or cook himself a hot meal over the little hearth Gormán and Conn use, in their quarters. How the master must despise him! Though not as much as he loathes Tóla.

The rain hammers down with furious intent. It floods over the roof of the hut and pours off, a relentless waterfall. The track to the barn has become a rushing stream. Every bird in the forest must be hiding away, seeking shelter in the dark recesses of the trees. Perhaps they call out. Perhaps they cry, No more, no more! Our small ones are drowning in the nest! But their voices are lost in the roar of the deluge.

Back in the hut, he considers his damp pallet. He could huddle there, wrap his arms around himself, squeeze his eyes shut and wait out the endless time until – until what? Until the rain stops? Until Grim comes back? Until the heartwood house is finished and he can leave this place forever?

‘Until I find what he took from me,’ Bardán mutters, wondering where the thought came from. Realising, a moment later, that he was thinking of the Red Giant and the unfinished tale. ‘Until I find my treasure.’