‘If you’re staying on to do the work,’ Tóla says, ‘and if you must have workers from Longwater here to get it finished, you’ll need to know why we don’t want that man spreading his mad stories all around. It’s essential that you keep him quiet. Quiet night and day. If I agree to what you’re proposing, there’ll be no going home at the end of the day’s work, for you at least. You’ll be sleeping at Wolf Glen, watching over Bardán. Keeping him in order. Without that, I’m having none of it.’

Pretty sure he was going to say this. Been waiting for it, hollow feeling in my belly. ‘What about rain days?’

‘You’ll stay here. If that requires an additional payment I’ll consider it. But you’ll be on my premises from now until the day the heartwood house is finished.’ Tóla gives me a narrow look, sizing me up. Am I as strong-minded as I seem to be or am I just pretending? That’s my guess as to what that look means. ‘If you can’t agree to that, I’ll find someone else to do the work,’ he goes on. ‘And if I believe that person cannot keep Bardán under adequate control, I won’t hesitate to tie him up, use the root cellar or employ any other method I choose to ensure my household’s safety.’

The devious bastard. Clever, too. Knows how to read a man. Knows how to find the one thing that’ll make a man do what he wants. ‘Let’s hear this tale first,’ I say, trying not to bunch up my fists. ‘About Bardán’s daughter. If there was a daughter.’

A knock at the door.

‘What is it?’ Tóla barks. I remember that he said he didn’t have much time. Taking Cara away more or less as soon as she got here. Wonder when Blackthorn will get home. It’ll be a cold hearth waiting for her.

A servant opens the door a crack. ‘Everything’s ready, Master Tóla.’

‘Yes, very well,’ Tóla says. ‘I’ll be there shortly. Ask Mistress Della to arrange some food for these men, will you? And a fresh jug of ale.’

The servant vanishes. The door shuts without a sound.

‘Bardán. Mm. I took him on, the first time, mostly to do the man a favour. Yes, I knew he was a master builder. And everyone knew he was odd, as his father had been before him. There were all kinds of stories attached to the family. Folk said the father had learned his skills in the Otherworld; that nobody could be so good a builder without some kind of fey knowledge. He was supposed to have spent his childhood there, that was the tale.’