Time passes; summer’s coming. We get the roof beams in place. Make the framework for the thatch, nine courses, like it says in the story. And I get my second bag of silver from Master Tóla, which comes as a surprise even though I’ve earned it fair and square. Couple of the fellows work on the top part of the walls, the wattle-and-mud. Tóla hasn’t asked for shelf beds or a hearth or anything else useful inside the heartwood house. Bit of a wasted effort if nobody’s going to use the place for anything. I don’t say that out loud. Nor do the Longwater men. Quiet bunch. Except when they’re singing. Can’t help wondering if Tóla’s paid them off. Handed out a few silver pieces for folk not to talk about Bardán or himself or the heartwood house or his daughter. Those houses down at Longwater, they’re well looked after. And the folk have got riding horses, as well as carts and suchlike. Didn’t notice anyone wearing clothing with patches, or worn-out boots, or shawls with holes in. Makes me wonder how much they’re paid for taking stuff up and down the lake. I don’t ask, though. How could I, without sounding nosy? But they must know about Bardán. About him taking his baby daughter over to Wolf Glen with him all those years ago and what happened to her. His wife was a local girl. She and Bardán lived near that settlement. But not a word. Not even when he mutters about his daughter in their hearing.

We’re still sleeping in with the animals, him and me. Made it a bit more comfortable, proper straw mattresses, floor swept clean down our end, cleared a bench for our stuff and put up a couple of pegs to hang things from. Conn cooks for all of us. Now the weather’s better, we go outside to eat, couple of benches and a table. Means they’ve got no reason to complain about Bardán’s stink. Told him I’d give him a shave and cut his hair any time he wants. Get him warm water for a wash. He said, Not yet.