‘Alexsander?’

I blinked, and she came into focus again. This beautiful woman, only a few years younger than I but wearing those years far more gracefully.

‘You were grinding your teeth,’ she said. She made a show of checking if the other diners had heard.

‘It must be complicated,’ I said, ‘having children.’

‘Children?’

‘I know some keep occupations both sides of the ettiene, but many don’t. My night-brother has no music in his soul.’

‘Alexsander, I don’t un—’

The words of the girl, Julia, to my night-brother rang in my own ears in that moment. Though I knew I should, I could not ignore them. ‘But with children, what choice do we have? They need parents day-and-night, don’t they?’

‘Well, of course,’ she said, shifting in her seat.

‘You carried them, didn’t you? Starting with the eldest, of course. I forget her name…’

She mumbled something. I leaned forward.

‘Harriet!’ she said.

‘Harriet, day to Louisa. Remind me, it was a night birth though, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘And conception?’

She was no longer wrong-footed, she was once more the forthright woman who had advised a travelling musician of his dropped notes. ‘I am not married to Mr Eder,’ she said, firmly.

But my blood was up now. ‘Not married, no.’

‘If you have something to say, Alexsander, then do so. We’re both too old for games.’

I lowered my voice. ‘Are you sleeping with Mr Eder?’

She did not answer right away. I could see her considering the question, as she might a curiosity from a foreign land. Unexpected, but familiar in parts, and presumed harmless until it proved otherwise.

‘I am not intimate with Mr Eder. And I never have been.’

‘Rebecca—’

‘No, you asked and I shall answer. My night-sister is married to the man. When they married, his day-brother was unmarried, but I had no interest in him. The feeling was very much reciprocated, if you take my meaning.’

I did. It had been my suspicion that Mr Eder was sleeping with Olesca during their daylight hours; my suspicion that this was the meaning behind Julia’s claim. It was also one more piece in the puzzle of why a tribesman was so at home in a northern household.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, ‘I shouldn’t have—’

She silenced me with a gesture. ‘When my night-sister decided to bring children into this world I raised no objection.’ She sipped her wine. ‘I was younger then. I assumed I would one day want to do the same. And most likely with a man my night-sister did not approve of. It sounds ridiculous, I know, to view such a thing in terms of “good will”. But what choice did I have? Does any woman have?’

I nodded, but in all honesty I had given the matter very little thought. In Esteberg mine was not a world of children, of parents, of their concerns. A child was only notable when a cause of scandal.

‘Mr Eder has always been respectful and discrete with me,’ she said. ‘And I return the favour.’