‘She told me everything,’ the man said. ‘It took a while, but she told me everything.’ He stepped forward. ‘Y’think I couldn’t see? Couldn’t tell that she’d changed? Y’think I’m blind? I been waitin’ for you, sir. Keepin’ an eye on the road. I knew if you lit out, it’d be in the dark.’

Osserc dismounted. He approached the man, and saw now, clearly, the welts and cuts on the man’s knuckles, the kind made by someone’s teeth.

‘You shouldn’t of done that, sir. She was sweet. She was pure.’

As Osserc continued advancing, the man’s eyes widened slightly, his nostrils flaring. When he began tugging free his knife Osserc leapt forward. He blocked the draw and closed one hand tightly on the wrist, forcing it down. His other hand found the man’s throat. He squeezed hard and continued squeezing, even as the man reached up and fought to pull free.

‘You beat her?’ Osserc asked. ‘That sweet, pure woman?’

The eyes before him were bulging, the face darkening. Osserc drew out the man’s knife and flung it away. The man’s legs gave out before him and his weight yanked at Osserc’s grip, so he brought up his other hand to join the first one. He saw the man’s tongue protrude, strangely black and thick.

His struggles weakened, and then ceased entirely.

Osserc studied the lifeless eyes. He was not sure if he had intended to kill the fool. But it was done now. He released his grip and watched as the body crumpled on to the dirt track.

I killed someone. Not in battle – no, it was in battle. Well, close enough. He went for his knife. He came to me, thinking to stab me. To murder me. And he beat Renarr – I saw the proof of that. He beat her like a coward. Might be he killed her – would I have heard? I stayed in my room, stayed away from the taverns. I know nothing of what’s happened in town.

He beat her to death, but justice was mine, mine to deliver.

He found himself back on his horse, riding clear of Neret Sorr, winding tracks, low stone walls and farmhouses before him. He was trembling and his left hand ached.

He had been counted strong, even by the soldiers he’d sparred with. And he had, with one hand, just crushed a man’s throat. A grip that had seemed filled with rage, with almost mindless fury – if only it had blinded him; if only he’d not been able to see the man’s face, his eyes, his open mouth and the jutting tongue. Somehow, even that ghastly mask had simply made him squeeze harder.

Osserc could not understand what had happened, how any of this had happened. He had meant to ride away unseen by anyone, setting forth on a new life. Instead, in his wake they would find a dead man, strangled, a parting gift of horror from the Lord’s son.