Nobody says anything right away. Been hoping I’d forget to ask, that’s my guess. Conn fiddles around with the bottle and cups for a bit. Then Gormán says, ‘Bardán’s to be locked up at night from now on. We can’t use his old quarters anymore; not secure. Tóla’s orders.’

And? I think, but I hold back from saying it. Get on the wrong side of Gormán and he’ll stop telling me anything at all. When it comes to it, I’m just a hired man here. Need to tread careful or I’ll be gone and Bardán will be on his own. ‘So where have you put him?’ Trying not to let it show that I’m angry. There’s room for all of us in here, the two of them, Bardán and me, and a bed left over. He could’ve been warm and dry all this time.

‘Root cellar,’ Gormán says. ‘Other end of the barn, down below. It’s dry. He’s got bedding.’

‘Show me.’

‘He’ll be asleep by now.’

‘Show me, Gormán.’ Didn’t think I looked so fierce, but Ripple growls deep down, like she’d attack if I gave the order, and Gormán takes a step back.

‘If you insist,’ he says. ‘Not much to see. Through here. Mind your head.’

The foresters’ quarters, where we’ve been, are down one end of the barn. Shut off from the rest by a wall. The other part’s bigger. A few cows in there, shuffling around and making sleepy mooing sounds. Smell of straw and dung. Gormán’s brought the lantern. There are shadows moving around on the rafters, eyes catching the light up there, an owl tearing at something in its claws.

‘Down here,’ Gormán says. We’re near the far end. And there’s a trapdoor in the barn floor, with a hand hold cut into it.

‘You’re joking.’ He’s not joking. Red rage boils inside me. I’m a hair’s-breadth from picking the man up and shaking some sense into him. Or worse. I want to go on shaking until I kill him. Breathe deep, Grim. ‘Open it up.’

He creaks the thing open. Pitch dark down there. My head’s full of Mathuin’s lockup, the dark, the screams, the beatings, the stench, the days that went on and on and on. The endless nights. Heart’s beating fit to split my chest open. Skin’s gone cold and clammy all over. Blackthorn tied up by the wrists. Slammer doing unspeakable things. I bashed myself near senseless that day, trying to break down the bars of my cell. Couldn’t get out. Couldn’t help her. Breathe. ‘Give me the lantern.’