'I am alone, whether you are here or not.' Rage gestured for Bane to sit alongside him on the fallen log.

'You'd have been more comfortable in front of the fire in your own hearth,' said Bane, sitting down and holding out his hands to the small blaze.

'It is a stone-built house. It keeps the world out. I felt the need to be part of the hills, to see the stars above me. You ever feel that way?'

'No.'

Rage sighed, and Bane smelled the uisge on his breath. 'You Keltoi are supposed to be close to nature, to walk the path of spirit. But you don't know what I'm talking about, do you?'

'Does it matter?'

'Probably not. Did you enjoy today?'

'Yes. I felt a surge of exultation as my enemy died. And the cheers of the crowd were like wine. I know it was not the same for you. Was it ever?'

Rage reached behind the log and produced a two-pint cask of uisge. Pulling the stopper he drank deeply, then passed the cask to Bane. 'I shouldn't have fought today,' said Rage. 'It was arrogant and wrong. I tried to tell myself I was doing it for the circus, for my comrades. Truth is I was . . . irritated. I once fought for Palantes. They earned a mountain of gold from my duels. Now here they were wanting a few coppers more from the old farmer's death. I should have told them to . . . go away. That would have been manly. No amount of false pride is worth the pain I caused Cara.'

'You hurt them, though,' said Bane. 'Killed their best prospect.'

'Pah, it will mean nothing to them. They'll find another. My pride wasn't worth killing a man for. And it certainly wasn't worth the deaths of five comrades.' He drank again, then glanced up at the sky. He almost fell from the log, but Bane caught him. 'That's where we came from,' he said, his voice slurring.

'Where? The sky?'

'Somewhere out there,' said Rage, waving his hand high. 'A wise woman – a seer – told me that. We are created from the dust of stars. A very wise woman, she was.'

'She sounds like an idiot,' said Bane. 'I was created by a lustful man who forced himself upon my mother.'

'The dust of stars,' said Rage. He gazed blearily at Bane. 'A long time ago – long, long time – a star exploded, and its dust was scattered across the heavens. This magical dust covered the earth, and from it all life was born. Fishes and . . . things. Trees. And when these living things die the magical dust is freed again, and makes new trees and . . . and . . .'

'Fishes?' offered Bane.