Years would pass, and then word would come from these hills of a new bandit chief, clever and rich, a wayfarer who stole young women and made them all his most loyal warriors; and theirs was a loyalty beyond challenge, for each woman loved their chief as would a wife a husband.

He would conquer Tulla Hold, sweep it clean of ghosts and broken hearts. He would burn all the tapestries. There would be many children, an army of them. All would be well, with tables groaning beneath roasted meats, until at last all the noble houses marched to lay siege to the fortress. They would come in their thousands and when the walls were surmounted, he would fight to the last on the battlements, defending his children – but someone had yielded the gate, with gold in hand, and the enemy was suddenly in the courtyard. Assailed on all sides, he would be driven down to his knees by a spear flung from behind, and twisting round to see his slayer, his betrayer, he would defy the gods and rise once more—

‘Off your horse now for pity’s sake,’ said Gripp.

Orfantal started and then quickly slid down from his mount. Together with the old man who was his protector, they led their charges towards the well.

‘That’s a wagon comin’ down,’ Gripp said. ‘And there’s a highborn with them. Young. As young as you, Orfantal. You ain’t curious?’

Orfantal shrugged.

‘When the Lady is in residence, she sends down fine food and ale to whoever camps here. It’s a measure of her honour, y’see? Haral was hoping and then he was disappointed, but now he’s hopeful again. We could all do with fresh food. And the ale.’

Orfantal glanced over at Haral, who was now busy stripping his mount while the others prepared the camp. ‘Maybe she’s out hunting bandits.’

‘Who?’

‘The Lady of the Hold.’

The old man rubbed at the back of his neck, a habit of his that left a dirty line that no amount of washing seemed able to remove. ‘No bandits this close to Tulla, Orfantal. A day into the hills, about halfway between here and Hust Forge, that’s when things get risky for us. But we’re not too worried. Word is, them Deniers are now making more money mining tin and lead and selling it to Hust – more than they ever could waylaying people like us. Mind you, mining’s hard work and not something I’d want to do. It’s all about weighing the risks, y’see?’

Orfantal shook his head.

Gripp sighed. ‘Saddles off and some grooming while we feed ’em. Your nag’s got a bad eye and it’s weeping more with all this dust. Getting old’s no fun at all and that’s the truth.’