‘I am not interested in your prophecies, Old Man.’

Arathan frowned at that strange name, so contrary to this figure facing them.

‘Not a prophecy, Draconus. I would not risk that in your presence. Rather, I fear the value you have imbued in this gift of yours – it is, perhaps, dangerous in its extremity.’

‘Who awaits me in the next village?’

‘I cannot even guess,’ Old Man replied. ‘But a few will gather. Curious. This usage of Night, Draconus, was without precedent, and the fury of the believers is something to behold.’

‘I care not. Let them worship stone if it pleases them. Unless,’ he added, ‘they would challenge me?’

‘Not you, nor the hand with which you wielded your desire. Instead, Draconus, they weep and seek redress.’

‘As I expected.’

Old Man was silent for a long moment, and then he said, ‘Draconus, be careful – no, we must all be careful now. In the healing they seek, they reach deeply into the Vitr. We do not know what will come of this.’

‘The Vitr? Then they are fools.’

‘The enemy is not foolishness, Draconus, but desperation.’

‘Who so reaches?’

‘I have heard Ardata’s name mentioned. And the Sister of Dreams.’

Draconus looked away, his expression unreadable. ‘One thing at a time,’ he muttered.

‘Much to make right, Draconus,’ Old Man said, smiling once more. ‘In the meantime, my child approaches.’

‘So you ever say.’

‘So I shall say until I need say it no more.’

‘I never understood why you were content with mere reflection, Old Man.’

The smile broadened. ‘I know.’

He turned round then and walked back to his house, the globe following and taking with it the bitter cold, the empty promise of dead air.

Halfway back, Old Man paused and looked back. ‘Oh, Draconus, I almost forgot. There is news.’

‘What news?’

‘The High King has built a ship.’

Arathan felt a sudden pressure, coming from his father, an invisible force that pushed him away, one step, and then another. He gagged, began to crumple—

And then a hand pulled him close. ‘Sorry,’ Draconus said. ‘Careless of me.’

Half bent over, Arathan nodded, accepting the apology. Old Man had vanished within his strange house, taking the light with him.

‘I’m never good,’ said Draconus, ‘with displeasing news.’

* * *

The noses of the horses found the spring readily enough, and Rint leaned forward over the saddle horn to study the stone-lined pond. As Draconus had predicted, there were swifts wheeling and darting above the still waters, and now bats as well. Beside him, Feren grunted and said, ‘What do you make of that?’