There’s a little movement out there that might be only a squirrel or might be him. I look in that direction but it’s all shadows. Then the fire lends a hand. There’s a big crash behind me as if a roof beam’s come down, and there’s a bright flare-up, and I spot him huddled in some bushes under a spreading elder tree.

The roar comes out of me then, and I charge, and he’s got no hope of getting away. I grab him by the neck, lift him off the ground, scream right into his poxy, good-for-nothing face. ‘You godforsaken mongrel cur! You worm-ridden woman-hating apology for a man! I’m going to peel off your skin inch by inch and watch you squirm! I’m going to bash your head against this tree until your brains turn to porridge!’

He answers by soiling himself, making a stink that’s not at all to my liking. I tighten my grip, his face goes purple, I shake him a bit, and through the red haze that’s filling me up I hear Blackthorn’s voice, hoarse as a bullfrog’s. She must be standing right behind me.

‘Grim. No. Justice, remember? You’ve got to give him justice.’

I make some kind of sound, sort of a growl. Can’t seem to slacken my grip on the fellow.

‘Rope,’ says Blackthorn, and here she is beside me with the coil in her hands. It’s been in my bag since we went off to Silverlake yesterday. ‘Tie him up, take him in. If you kill him now, he can’t answer at the council. He can’t be questioned about the miller’s death. He can’t be punished under the law.’

‘Bastard doesn’t deserve to live one moment longer,’ I say, but I’m shifting my hold to Branoc’s arms, and Blackthorn’s reaching in with the rope. We tie his wrists behind his back. The rope’s long enough to do his ankles too. No running away this time. Anyway, the fight’s gone out of him. I pick him up and sling him over my shoulder, and we walk back out to our house, which is four stone walls with a heap of burning rubble inside.

We’re not on our own anymore. Me and Blackthorn and that evildoer Branoc have been joined by what looks like half of Winterfalls village. People are hauling up water, passing buckets along, dousing the last of the fire. That fellow Donagan is there, and some guards, and horses. I don’t need to say much at all. The guards take Branoc from me, throw him over a horse and lead him away.