I don’t do it. The rain clears. Bardán’s ready. The Longwater crew’s here. Waiting for me to run through the day’s work. Word comes that a farmer’s got the straw for the thatching. Bringing it in on a cart as soon as the weather looks set fine for a few days. I hate to take on a job and not get it done properly. So I work all through the day, and by late afternoon the place is looking good. A little touch or two and we’ll be ready to start thatching. I talk to Gormán about ladders and he says he’ll look out a few, and if they’re not long enough he’ll knock together a new one for us. I ask the crew if anyone doesn’t mind heights, and who’s helped with thatching before, and a couple of the lads say yes to both. All good. Only, underneath, I’m worried still. It’s not just Blackthorn. It’s Bardán. The truth’s eating away at me. If I don’t tell him what I know, what Blackthorn thinks might be the real story, aren’t I just as bad as Tóla? How can I not tell him his long-lost daughter is alive and well? I should tell him even if it opens a bag of trouble. I should. If I was in his shoes I’d want to be told. Can it wait till the heartwood house is finished, thatch and all? I’m thinking no, it can’t. Wish I could talk to Blackthorn again first, though. Find out if she knows any more. Ask her if we should tell them both at once, Bardán and the girl. Once they know, there’s going to be a big storm, and nobody’s going to walk through it without getting hurt.

I’m tired after the day’s work. Always tired now. Never as much sleep as I want. I can see myself getting home after this is all done and sleeping for days and days, like someone in an old tale. Supper time, my eyes won’t stay open. Spring’s heading into summer and the dark doesn’t come till late, but I head off to bed as soon as I’ve helped Conn wash the dishes. Ripple’s happy to come with me, doesn’t care if it’s night or day as long as she’s got company.

Expecting the usual sort of night, lying awake, getting up, going through my exercises, trying not to think about bad things, listening to Bardán breathing and Ripple snoring in her sleep. But tonight’s different. Head hits the pillow and I’m fast asleep.