‘In the old tale,’ said Blackthorn, ‘a rich man steals a creature’s child and makes her work for him to earn it back. She builds him a heartwood house. Only she tricks him. The story I heard says nothing about feathers in the thatch. In the version the druid told Cara, the creature leaves out certain kinds of wood, and that robs the family of certain blessings.’

‘Put in every kind of timber, didn’t we?’ Grim said, looking at Bardán with brows up. ‘Don’t think we forgot any.’

Bardán gave a strange smile. ‘There’s the stone. Stone on stone on stone. Then the wood; every tree. Then the thatch. Nine courses.’

‘You told me all that. But you didn’t mention feathers,’ said Grim.

‘Maybe he didn’t,’ Blackthorn said. ‘And maybe that was on purpose, to punish Tóla. Though Bardán cannot have understood the importance of that. Not fully. Not back then. His wits were scattered; his memory was unreliable. As for the feathers, a tale changes from one teller to the next. Sometimes this story may have a monster and sometimes a human mother. Sometimes the trick is with the wood, sometimes with the feathers.’

‘And sometimes the creature gets the child back,’ Cara said. ‘But sometimes the child is taken and kept, and brought up as another man’s daughter.’

‘He lied,’ said Tóla. ‘Bardán lied. He promised he would build my heartwood house, every part just so. But that, with the thatch – it simply isn’t possible. He could never do it, not in a thousand years. Nobody could do it.’

‘You’re wrong,’ said Cara. ‘I could.’ And she saw a smile creep over Bardán’s wild face, a smile that warmed her deep within.

‘What nonsense –’ began Tóla.

‘Oh, she certainly could,’ said Mistress Blackthorn. ‘Not the thatching itself; she’d need someone with the right skills for that. But collecting the feathers – that, Brígh could do quite easily. Have you not noticed how the birds come to her? How they stay close and watch over her? Have you not noticed that the girl you raised as your daughter has some remarkable gifts?’

‘Only,’ put in Fedach, ‘it wouldn’t work the way Master Tóla wanted, would it? Keeping Cara – Brígh – safe, I mean. Bestowing blessings on her. Master Tóla’s the landholder. He’s the one who asked for it to be built. But Brígh’s not his kin. She’s not his daughter.’