But Gormán had seen Tóla coming, and he stood silent, his eyes on Cara. His face was painful to look upon, all love and regret and farewell.

We went in: Cara, Cúan and I. Gormán had been cooking. A covered pot was on the fire, and various spoons, knives and ingredients lay on the table. Field mushrooms, chopped. And right next to them, a small pile of something very similar in appearance, but most definitely not the same. My blood ran cold. No time to question Gormán now. ‘Cionnaola,’ I said over my shoulder, ‘make sure nobody touches what’s on the table. The same with whatever’s in that cook pot.’

‘Understood, Mistress Blackthorn.’

Ripple had upset some long poles that must have been standing against the wall, and they had dislodged baskets and boxes as they fell, blocking an inner doorway. The dog was in danger of hurting herself with her wild efforts to get through. She was making so much noise I could not tell if there was any sound from the other side.

‘Can you quiet her?’ Cúan asked.

‘Ripple, here!’ Thank the gods for such a good dog. She came to stand by me, panting, whining. ‘Ripple, hush. Down.’

Cúan dealt with the fallen objects swiftly and methodically. When they were piled up out of the way, he set his shoulder to the inner door. ‘Step aside, Mistress Blackthorn.’

The inner door crashed open on the shadowy space of the main barn area. Stalls for cattle, empty now. Items hanging from pegs on the walls. Shelves holding neatly stacked supplies. A cleared area close by the door, with two straw pallets and folded blankets. Ripple ran past Cúan and began a search, sniffing everywhere.

‘That’s Grim’s cloak,’ I said. ‘And those are his boots.’

Cúan was looking further in. It was darkish. The prevailing smells were of dung and hay.

‘Get away from there!’ came Tóla’s shout from outside. ‘How dare you bar me from my own property!’

‘Easy now, Master Tóla.’ Cionnaola might have been facing nothing more troublesome than a persistent fly on a hot day. ‘We’re just taking a look, that’s all. If you’ve told us the truth, you’ve got nothing to worry about.’

Ripple moved into the darker area, between the cattle stalls. Cúan bent to pick up something from the floor. He brought it back to the door to look at it in better light. A length of wood, heavy-looking. Stained red at one end. ‘Don’t want to worry you,’ he said quietly, ‘but I think that’s blood. And there are marks on the floor in there. There’s been some kind of struggle. But where could they be?’