‘Who hates us, and we do not blame him for that, Renarr – he should know that. He lost the woman he loved. My father still weeps to remember that day.’

‘It is all right, milord. It was my father’s unreasonable opinions of you that made me first curious, enough to see for myself. And, as I suspected, he is wrong about you.’

He thought to say more, but nothing came to him. She drew close and kissed him and then turned away. ‘I will wait here until you are well gone, milord.’

Feeling helpless, Osserc left the ruined house. He collected up both horses and led them on to the rutted track.

He caught sight of the polished pebble in the grasses, hesitated, and then continued on.

Three paces later he turned round and went back. He picked it up and slipped it into the pouch at his belt.

Once back on the road, he mounted the warhorse, and – Neth trailing – they took the hillside at a canter.

* * *

Ahead on the track, just past the village, a flag was being raised at the Tithe Gate at the bottom of the hill, announcing Osserc’s return. Seeing the banner climb skyward and then stream out in the wind pleased Osserc as he rode past the trader carts and the figures edged to one side of the road, standing with heads bowed. The flag’s field was sky blue studded with gold stars, and so marked one of Vatha blood. A second pole alongside the familial one remained bare, as it had done ever since Urusander ordered his Legion to stand down.

Houseblades – veterans of the Legion one and all – were pushing people from the gateway as Osserc approached. He rode through without slowing, nodding at the salutes from the old soldiers. The way ahead was steep and Kyril was blowing hard by the time they reached the keep’s High Gate.

He rode into the courtyard, hoping to see his father upon the steps – he would have been informed of his son’s return – but only retainers stood there. There had been a temptation, briefly entertained, to rein in at the Tithe Gate and order the Legion flag hoisted; but he had feared a refusal from the Houseblades. He imagined closed expressions looking up at him, and the sergeant telling him that only the Legion commander could order such a thing. Osserc’s authority was fragile enough, a thin shell left untouched out of respect for Urusander. So he had dismissed the idea. But now he wished he had insisted; that second flag would surely have brought his father out to meet him.