'Get out of here, you fat bastard,' shouted Bran. 'Or I'll kill you where you stand!'

'That's enough,' said Connavar wearily. 'No-one is going to be killed here. Sit down, Bran.'

'You heard what he said to me . . .'

'I heard. And you should take note of it.' He turned to Osta and Govannan. 'Leave us for a while, my friends. Come back in an hour and we will continue our plans. You too, Banouin.'

Brother Solstice turned to leave with the others, but Connavar called him back. 'Sit,' he said, passing a cloth to the druid. Brother Solstice held it to his lip, and dabbed the blood from his beard.

Connavar waited until the generals and Banouin had left the tent, then turned to the still angry Bran. 'Brother Solstice spoke the truth,' he said. 'The Rigante are relying on you to develop a strategy to defeat the armies of Stone. And here you sit having daydreamed through the most vital of reports. You have lost one son – and I grieve with you. But I am the king, and all the Rigante are the king's children. I will not see my children destroyed because one of their generals could not put aside personal grief at a crucial time.'

'I can't do this,' said Bran. 'I can't stop thinking about Ru. I'll head for home tomorrow.'

'We need you, Bran,' said Connavar.

Bran shook his head. 'You taught me everything I know,' he told his brother. 'And with you at the head the Stone army will be beaten. I am sure of that.'

'I may not be here,' said Conn, keeping his voice low.

'What?'

Brother Solstice saw the shock register on Bran's face. The younger man crouched down beside his brother. 'What madness is this? Of course you will be here!'

'I hope that is true, my brother,' Conn told him. 'I have seen two futures. In one I am betrayed and die before the battle. In the other I lead a charge against the enemy. These were no dreams, Bran. The images came to my mind when I touched the Morrigu. Both are true – though I know not how this can be. What I do know is that if you leave the Rigante die. Everything I have lived for, struggled for, suffered for will be dust. You want focus? Think on that. If that is not enough do not picture dead Ruathain in your mind. Picture instead the man who sent the ring that killed him. Picture Jasaray.'

Bran bowed his head, then looked up at Brother Solstice. 'I am sorry, my friend, for striking you.'

'Forgiven and forgotten,' said the druid. 'Perhaps you should find Banouin – and listen to his report a second time.'