Haelan thought hard. This obviously meant a lot to Swain, and Haelan was grateful to him for many things since he’d arrived here, not least the piece of pie he’d just gulped down.

‘Tears,’ he said at last. ‘Tahir wept as we left Orgull and the other one. They were good friends, is my guess.’ He knew there was a tale there, of sword-brothers. Part of him wanted to know more, another part shying away from anything that reminded him of the circumstances in which his mam died. He looked at Swain, saw a desire for more, a need to know. ‘I’ll ask Tahir about him.’

Swain patted Haelan’s shoulder and gave him a weak smile.

A murmur of sound drifted over to them, growing quickly. Haelan saw a dozen or so lads and lasses gathered in a huddle down by the riverbank. He and Swain hurried over, Sif trailing after them.

It was Trigg, holding a willow-trap high.

The half-breed.

Trigg was of an age to Swain, but she stood a head taller than him, her face broad and angular, limbs long and muscular. Her mam and da had been part of Gramm’s hold, and part of an expedition that had rowed up the river into Forn. They hadn’t returned. The barges they’d used had eventually been found, half-sunk in the river, signs of battle on the vessels, but no bodies.

A year later Trigg’s mam had staggered back into the hold from across the bridge that led into the Desolation. Her belly was swollen with child and she was half-mad, babbling about being made slave to the Jotun giants.

Trigg had been born, her mam dying in the act of giving birth, so the hold had raised Trigg, not one person taking her on, but many of them. Now she was just part of the hold, although Swain and the others behaved differently around her. Nothing they said, but Haelan could see a wariness in the way Trigg was treated, like an unbroken colt. As if she were dangerous. Haelan had only spoken to Trigg fleetingly, the tall girl always standing on the edges, when she was around at all. She disappeared for long lengths of time, Swain told him that she travelled into Forn. What for he didn’t say.

‘What’ve you caught?’ Swain asked, pushing through the crowd.

‘Biggest rat you’ve ever seen,’ Trigg grinned, hefting the basket. Whatever was in it was heavy, as even Trigg was straining to hold it high. As Haelan watched the basket bucked and rocked.

And angry.

‘It was in the river, after the salmon.’

Swain peered through the willow slats and whistled. ‘I’ve caught bigger,’ he said, winking at Haelan.