Feren came down to his side, her moccasin-clad feet crunching on the rounded pebbles of the bank. ‘You saw?’

He nodded.

‘Who might it be, I wonder?’

‘I would not think a Jaghut,’ Rint replied. ‘Who then? Azathanai?’ He saw her glance back at the camp, followed her gaze. ‘Do you fear for the boy now? What is he to all of this?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You did what was asked of you, Feren. He will have expectations.’

She shot him a hard look. ‘And is he nothing more than a damned pup to be brought to heel?’

‘You are the only one who can answer that,’ he retorted.

‘You are a man. Of this, you understand nothing.’

‘I don’t? How old would the boy have been by now? Same as Arathan, or close enough.’ He saw the effect of his words, like blades crossing her face, and it sickened him. ‘Sister, I am sorry.’

But her eyes had gone flat. ‘Children die. A mother gets over it, as she must.’

‘Feren—’

‘The failure was his father’s, not mine.’

‘I know. I did not mean—’

‘Grief led his hand to the knife. Selfishness sank it into his own heart.’

‘Feren.’

‘He abandoned me when I needed him the most. I learned from that, brother. I learned well.’

‘Arathan is not—’

‘I know that! Is it me who’s been chewing dead meat all afternoon? Am I the one worked into a black rage? I had a son. He died. I had a husband. He is dead, too. And I have a brother, who thinks he knows me, but all he knows is a sister he has invented – go to her again, Rint. She’s easy to find. Bound to the chains inside your head.’ She lifted a hand as if to strike him and he steeled himself against the blow, but it never came, and moments later she was walking back to the fire.

He wanted to weep. Instead, he cursed himself for being a fool.

A figure appeared at the rise on the other side of the river. Massive, towering, clad in thick plates of leather armour, a clutch of spears balanced over one shoulder, a heavy sack held in one hand. His head was bare, his hair unbound and lit like fiery blood in the glare of the setting sun. He paused for a moment and then lumbered his way down to the ford.

And Rint knew this Azathanai, though he had never seen him before.

The lone warrior among the Azathanai. The one known as Protector. Though whom he has fought is a question I cannot answer. Thel Akai halfblood, mate to Kilmandaros.

This is Grizzin Farl.

The water barely breached his heavy boots.

‘Draconus!’ he bellowed. ‘Is this how you hide from all the world? Ha, I had not believed the tales – now see me for the fat fool I am! But look, I have ale!’

* * *