‘Rint and Feren are going to where we will make camp,’ said Arathan. ‘They have all the horses.’

‘Go away, boy.’

‘I cannot.’

‘I said go away!’

Arathan was silent for a long moment, and then he said, ‘I wish that I could, sergeant. This should be a time for you to be alone. I do not know what she did, but I can see that it was cruel.’

‘Keep your distance,’ Raskan said in a low rasp, ‘lest I harm you.’

‘Sergeant, my father has met my eyes. I am his son. I am not here to ask you. I am here to command you. I will lead you to the camp. It is my father’s wish.’

Raskan looked up, eyes hooded in the gloom, his cheeks streaked and his beard glittering. ‘Your father,’ he hissed, making the words a curse. ‘This was Ivis’s task, not mine! Maybe he could have weathered it, but I cannot!’

‘What did she take from you?’

His laugh was harsh and bitter, but he straightened from the wall. ‘I am not the fool he thinks I am. She knows him from long ago. I begin to see.’

‘What do you mean? What do you see? Sergeant Raskan, tell me – what do you see?’

‘Azathanai blood is what I see. It needs chaining and that’s what he’s done. Chained it down. By his will alone you are held back, made normal to our eyes. You fool – not once did she look at you!’

Arathan stared at the man, trying to comprehend. And then he backed away a step. ‘Why should she? Raskan! Why should she look at me at all?’

But the man levered himself from the wall and staggered in the direction of the hill beyond the village. After a moment, Arathan stumbled after him. He heard the sergeant muttering under his breath.

‘How can it be a secret when even I did not know it? No, I have dreamed no sordid dreams, longed for nothing immoral. There is no cause for disgust. I could kneel above the water – I could look down on my face. And see nothing evil. She lied. I deserve no shame!’

The man was speaking nonsense. Arathan wondered if his mind had been broken by the witch’s magic. His own thoughts felt unhinged. My father knew her long ago. I don’t know what that means – it means nothing. It seems all of the Azathanai know my father. Grizzin Farl. Old Man. And now this witch. Each one we meet knows him. They call him the Suzerain of Night. They fear him.

I am his son. Bastard no longer.

Why did he wait? Why did he bring me out here to say that?

They clambered over the last of the settlement’s walls. Ahead the track resumed, climbing to a crossroads flanked on one side by a humped, rounded hill on which stood half a dozen trees, forming a half-ring. In the cup they formed stood Rint and Feren. Neither Draconus nor Olar Ethil could be seen – he wondered where they had gone. Were they still at the pool?