I lie there listening to the rain and thinking about things. Bardán mutters to himself about his daughter, where is she, what have they done with her, they’ve stolen her and so on. Doesn’t seem to expect an answer so I don’t say anything much. Only, ‘It’s all right,’ and ‘Try to sleep now,’ and so on. After a bit he goes quiet and I think he’s dropped off. But no. He starts to sing, under his breath. Heard this song before, bits of it, while he’s watching me work. Only now I listen properly, and he sings the whole thing through.

‘Starling, woodcock, owl on wing

Nightjar, chiffchaff, bunting sing

Goldcrest, warbler, thrush and jay

Redpoll, siskin darting by

Golden feather, scarlet, white

Bright as summer, dark as night

Weave a charm for luck and good

Every birdling in the wood

Feather bright and feather fine

None shall harm this child of mine.’

Bardán’s voice is not the best, and he’s hardly singing above a whisper. But I hear something in that broken sound. I hear a father singing to a baby, singing her to sleep. I hear a man who’s still got something soft and tender in him, even when he’s been beaten down and worn away to a ruin. There’s power in those words, too. Like a charm. Like magic. Wish I could write them down, so I’d remember them all. Blackthorn would like to hear that song.

My thoughts take a sideways slip, and I’m seeing too far ahead. Seeing something in the world of might be, the world of after Mathuin. Not good. Start those foolish dreams and I’ll be over the cliff before you can say Red Giant. And there’s things to do here.

Bardán’s asleep. Breathing slow, curled up under his blanket. Ripple’s wriggled over next to him, keeping him warm. But me? I’m wide awake, staring up into the dark, listening to the cows, thinking how I never slept at night when I was in Mathuin’s lockup, or when I was on the road with Blackthorn, or when we were at court. Always on alert. Couldn’t help it. Used to snatch a catnap when I could, during the day. Managed to do my work. When I first started building the heartwood house, riding to and fro and so on, that changed. Got so tired I was hard put to stay awake long enough to eat supper.