Pyxeas laughed. ‘That’s a good argument. Or would be, if not for the fact that the longwinter never is going to end – not in our lifetime anyhow. And that kind of petty human calculation is going to be scrubbed out by the ice. You’ll have to do better than that, sir, if you’re to get what you want from us.’

Rina felt left behind. ‘But what is it they want, Uncle?’

Pyxeas tapped his temple again. ‘He wants me, Pyxeas, to tell him how to make the fire drug of Cathay. And eruptors, weapons to exploit it.’

‘Ah. And can you tell him?’

‘Oh, yes.’ He stepped closer to Carthalo, intense. ‘In fact, I can do better than that. I, Pyxeas, have long anticipated this moment. I have put in place a plan – I had my students send letters to Northlanders in Carthage. To you too, Rina, though I don’t think you ever received it. But others did. House of Crow studies. And they have been working, in secret, for months.’

Carthalo’s eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean? What kind of work?’

‘We already have the weapons. We Northlanders. We have the fire drug. We have the eruptors. In this city. These could be in your hands in days – a month at most. I, Pyxeas, have organised this.’

Carthalo was clearly stunned. But he was a good politician and remained in control. ‘If you were to grant us this—’

Rina touched Pyxeas’ arm. ‘We would be making a decision on behalf of all Northland.’

He turned to her with eyes huge and sad. ‘I’m afraid we must, my dear. For Northland, the old Northland, is already lost – save for us. What we must face now is the future. And the building of that future begins here and now.’

Carthalo smiled. ‘Quite right. Name your price.’

Pyxeas glanced at Rina. ‘This is your moment.’

‘Bring him home,’ she snapped. ‘Bring him back from your wars.’

Carthalo nodded. ‘Your son. I understand. Consider it done.’

But even as he spoke Rina saw Barmocar sneer at her, a sly smile he didn’t trouble to hide. She saw his opinion of her there and then. She might have the power of life and death over him and his kind, but to him she was small, a petty woman obsessed with family, and always would be so. She had been abused by this man’s wife. Humiliated for his amusement. She had sworn revenge on them both. That little smile, she thought. That little smile was going to cost this man so much.

Pyxeas, meanwhile, had greater prices to exact. ‘You may have the fire drug. But you will use it to make peace with the Hatti, if you possibly can.’

‘What? They are barbarians,’ Barmocar said. ‘One may as well try to make peace with a rabid wolf—’