Conmael filled a cup from the pot and passed it to me. ‘Careful,’ he warned. ‘Don’t drop it.’

I willed my shaking hands to take control; lifted the cup to my lips; took a mouthful. Shut my eyes in utter bliss. I could almost understand those old stories in which folk exchanged their first-born child for a bowl of broth.

‘And drink slowly,’ he said, ‘or you’ll make yourself sick.’ Then, after a moment, ‘But I don’t need to tell you that; you’re a healer. And now you’ll need a healer’s name. I imagine you won’t be wanting to use either of your old ones.’

‘You imagine right.’ This was the best meal I had had in my life. Ever. If that was because it was fey food, and if that meant drinking it changed me into a toad or whisked me off to another world, too bad. I was going to finish every drop and probably lick the cup clean afterwards. Somewhere in the back of my mind was the question of names, and how he knew I had two, but right now it didn’t seem to matter.

‘There’s bread,’ said Conmael. ‘Take just a little at first – here.’

When he passed me the chunk of oaten bread, I had to blink back tears. In the lockup, when the men had dreamed of roast pork, sausages and plum pie, I had longed for fresh, honest bread.

‘Thank you,’ I made myself say. The first bite transported me to that place Grim had described: barley fields in sunshine, yellow flowers, bare feet paddling in a stream. I had indeed become weak, to be thus overwhelmed by simple things. ‘Blackthorn,’ I said, trying to get control of myself. ‘That is the name I choose.’ It felt right; it had in it the idea of what I was now, walking under a shadow and all prickles.

‘Mm-hm.’

That was all he said until I had finished both soup and bread, and had warmed up sufficiently to stop shaking and begin yawning, the food and the fire conspiring to draw me toward sleep. Then my companion spoke again. ‘I have a bag here for you, with a change of clothing and some items for the journey: a knife, a flint, way-bread and so on. When you reach Winterfalls there will be other supplies ready. Not much; only sufficient to get you started. And you’ll be wanting to bathe. My folk will bring warm water shortly, and will ensure that you have privacy. That is for tonight only, Blackthorn. From tomorrow you’ll be relying on your own resources.’

I understood he was not planning to stay, which was just as well if I was supposed to strip and wash here under the trees. Out of the myriad urgent questions, I chose what seemed the most important right now. ‘Winterfalls. I don’t know the place – where and what is it?’