‘As a healer, yes.’ He was evidently more comfortable with that term than wise woman. Grim had told me what great faith Tóla placed in the protective qualities of the heartwood house. How he feared the consequences if the place was not completed. Hadn’t he blamed Bardán’s defection for the death of his wife? So, he was superstitious. Deeply so. Believed in the power of the uncanny. But was afraid of it, too, or he would not have shied away from calling me what I was – not only a worker with herbs and potions, a mender of broken bones and a helper to the ailing, but also a practitioner of what might be called hearth magic: minor spells and charms, a slight adjustment of what already existed, a little playing with the nature of things.

‘Do you require my services for yourself or for your daughter, Master Tóla?’

‘For myself – no, most certainly not.’ The notion seemed to shock him. ‘With Cara – if you could watch over her . . . If there were a . . . something protective . . . something she could carry with her . . .’

‘A charm, you mean?’

The man was struggling for words, out of his depth. Not wanting to acknowledge the existence of such things, not openly at least. He was a mass of contradictions. And I was getting cold, standing outside in meagre shelter.

‘I could make something, yes. I’ll need to give it some thought. Ideally such an item would contain a contribution from each of those closest to the wearer. Cara herself might be asked to identify those people. Perhaps there is a garment or small item that belonged to her mother. Something from you. Something from anyone else she is fond of. She and I might make the charm together.’ I thought of Grim’s little wooden hedgehog. In the cottage, right behind us, there were several animals Cara herself had carved, each of them full of its own natural power. Created with love and good intent. Crafted with a knowledge of trees and the gifts they gave us. It came to me that Cara could already make her own magic.

‘We’d best be moving on.’ Tóla brought the conversation to an abrupt halt, gesturing to his servants. ‘If you could go ahead with that, I would be grateful. And I will pay, of course. I don’t want this discussed openly, Mistress Blackthorn, or spread abroad. That goes without saying.’

I gave him a sort of half-nod. Grim and I had already gone far beyond Tóla’s restrictions on the sharing of information and I was certain we would again when I saw him next.

The three men were mounting their horses.

‘Master Tóla?’

From the saddle, already impatient to be gone, he looked down at me.

‘I had thought Grim might be home today,’ I said, already feeling foolish. ‘With the heavy rain, I mean.’