‘Barmocar sent a runner to warn me you were coming.’ He grinned. ‘Barmocar! That old rascal. How is he? Haven’t seen him for too long. Come in, come in, I have no manners left, it seems.’ He led her through the gate. The man collected her bundles from the road. ‘You look exhausted, if you don’t mind my saying it. Things have become so difficult, haven’t they?’

The gate clanged shut behind them. The estate was a series of independent buildings set around a central courtyard. The walls were of stone, with big upright slabs infilled with rubble and neatly finished. In the courtyard a fountain ran, feeding miniature orange trees in pots. The servant stood by.

‘Rather impressive, isn’t it?’ Jexami said, as they crossed the courtyard. ‘Originally built by an Arabic prince, in the brief interval when this country was overrun by that sort, long ago. They left behind some exquisite architecture. This place is much transformed in the centuries since, but we’ve restored the hydraulic system. Do you know, this fountain hasn’t run dry once, despite the drought. Mind you the air’s so arid the oranges haven’t flourished even so.’

She felt bewildered, even oddly dizzy. She found herself staring at the little orange trees. ‘Jexami, I’ve come to you because—’

‘First I must show you some hospitality,’ he said smoothly, deflecting her. ‘Himil – come here.’ The servant hurried over, and Jexami gave him brisk instructions. Then he led Rina into the courtyard. ‘Of course dear Ywa is still in Etxelur, is she not? It’s some time since she wrote.’

Rina frowned. Was he really so out of touch as he seemed? ‘Things are difficult at home. Ywa is under a lot of pressure.’

‘Well, of course she is. I’ve urged her many times to do what you’ve done, to pack her bag and come here. To fly south for the winter, like a swallow! Look, I insist you relax before we talk. Any of these houses may suit. They all have their own baths, you know, and most have their own bread ovens! For this is the Carthaginian way. You must wash, change – my wife has plenty of old clothes, I’ll send a girl to help you. Perhaps you’d like to sleep?’

She felt that if she got to a soft bed she could sleep through a full day. But she must not, not yet. She told Jexami of her children. ‘Perhaps you could send for them? I was going to send back that oaf of a carriage-man.’

It was a simple enough request, and not much of an imposition on his hospitality. Yet he hesitated, to her surprise. At length he said, ‘Of course.’ He snapped his fingers and gave Himil brisk instructions. ‘As soon as he has you settled he will deal with it.’