'I thought so,' said Rage. 'You want to find the man who almost killed you, and prove to yourself that you are the better man.'

'No,' snapped Bane. 'I want to kill the whoreson for what he took from me.'

'Interesting,' said Rage. 'But your friend's advice still remains good. Let us talk no more of it at this time.'

The door opened and a young girl entered the kitchen. Bane judged her to be around thirteen years old, very slim, with long, white-blonde hair. She was wearing a brown cotton nightdress, and she yawned as she moved to the table. 'Good morning, Grandfather,' she said sleepily.

'You slept late, princess,' said Rage. 'Did you have nice dreams?'

'I never remember dreams,' she said. 'You know that.' Then she noticed Bane, and turned towards him. Her eyes were cornflower blue, and very large. Bane smiled at her. She did not respond.

'Who are you?' she asked him.

'I am Bane of the Rigante.'

'I am Cara,' she told him, sitting opposite him at the table. 'You look exhausted.'

'Indeed I am.' Bane found her directness both engaging and off-putting.

Rage served the thick porridge into three wooden dishes, which he placed on the table. 'There is honey, sugar or salt, whichever is your preference,' he told Bane.

Bane shook his head, and drew a plate towards him.

'It will be very hot,' said Cara. 'Best to leave it for a while. Or add some milk. Otherwise you'll burn your tongue.'

Bane chuckled and shook his head.

'Why do you laugh?' she asked him. 'Did I say something amusing?'

'I was just thinking how like your grandfather you are, princess,' he said.

'I am not a princess,' she said sternly. 'That is just what Grandfather calls me. But you may call me princess, if it pleases you.'

'Then I shall,' said Bane. 'Is your mother still sleeping?'

'My mother is dead,' said Cara, pouring cold milk onto her oats.

'I am sorry.'

'Why?' asked Cara. 'Did you know her?'

'No. I meant I am sorry for you. My mother died earlier this year. I miss her.'

'I don't miss my mother,' said Cara. 'She died when I was a baby. I don't remember her.'

'Did your father die too?'

'No. He went away. He might be dead now. We don't know, do we, Grandfather?'

'We have not heard from him,' said Rage.

'So, is it just the two of you that live here?' asked Bane.

'We have four herdsmen who have rooms at the far end,' said Rage, 'and two servants who live down the hill.'