The open council drew closer. We were expecting Emer back from Silverlake in time for it. She needed to stand up and tell her story, and so did I. When the prospect of being in the prince’s hall among a big crowd of folk set my belly churning with unease, I reminded myself that Emer was fifteen years old, and that the very least I could do was stand by her and show her an example. We would see how just and fair Prince Oran was when really put to the test. I knew one thing: if he failed to dispense true justice where Branoc was concerned, Grim and I would be doing it for him.

The day of the council came. We joined a long line of people waiting to go into the prince’s house. The main dwelling was a sprawling stone structure with a strange little tower. A spread of wattle-and-mud buildings surrounded it, and around all of this the wall was high; too high to admit casual entry. There were guards on the gate. We gave our names, then walked through with Emer between us. She was pale, I felt sick, and as for Grim, he was exchanging smiles and nods with one villager after another, almost as if he was enjoying himself. How could he be so calm? Didn’t every single thing about this remind him of Laois, of Mathuin, of that place? I could smell the stink of it now, feel the cruel hands on my body, hear the screams of pain and the silence of utter humiliation.

‘All right?’ murmured Grim.

‘No. But I’ll cope.’ I had to, for Emer. And for Ness, whose voice we were today.

We were ushered into a grand hall, where benches were set ready for the hearing. The place filled up fast. Some folk I knew quite well – those who had made use of my services for themselves or their close kin – and some I knew a little. But many were complete strangers, for the council drew in people not only from Winterfalls and Silverlake, but from a much wider area that apparently lay under the prince’s jurisdiction.

The place was so crowded, it looked as if some folk would need to stand at the back. I was about to suggest to Grim that we do so when Donagan called out from the dais at the front.

‘Anyone who’s going to get up and speak, down here in the front row! Let them through, please.’

We moved forward – Grim was big enough to make a path through any crowd – and sat on the front bench. The place was full of chattering people. I tried to unclench my jaw, to relax my tight body, to turn my angry fists into polite, folded hands. Emer had her arms hugged around her, under her shawl.