He reined in and dismounted, quickly unstrapped his kit bag from his saddle. There wasn’t much of worth in there – a coat of mail he’d taken from a dead warrior in Domhain the most valuable thing, and the box from the marsh, of course, not that that was worth anything. He still hadn’t had a chance to open it – he’d tried briefly, wiggling his knife in the lock, but to no avail. Since then he’d been on the road with Braith and something had stopped him from getting the box out in front of the huntsman. He thought about having another go at opening it now, but his excitement at seeing Dun Carreg was mounting, so he took the coat of mail out and quickly put it on. He adjusted his warrior torc, checked his warrior braid and straightened his sword-belt. He didn’t want to look like a bedraggled huntsman when he rode across the bridge and through the arch of Stonegate.

Havan, the fishing village at the base of the hill that Dun Carreg sat upon, appeared as it always had: wood and thatch buildings, smoke rising from the roundhouse at its centre, figures moving about their daily work. As he passed through and began the winding climb up the hill to Dun Carreg he recognized faces, some pausing to stare at him. He ignored them. Halfway up the hill he stopped and looked out over the village and bay, the sea glittering blue and green, fisher-boats dotting the waves. As he gazed out beyond the bay, black sails caught his eye. Lots of them, coming up the coast from the south like a great flock of black-winged birds. They sailed past the bay, disappearing north around the cliffs of the headland. Rafe just sat there and watched, counted at least fifty ships, and remained there staring for a while after they’d disappeared.

They look like the ships we sailed on to reach Cambren.

When he was sure that they weren’t coming back he rode on.

His hooves clattered on the bridge that spanned the chasm between the mainland and Dun Carreg and then he was reining in before Stonegate. He showed the pendant Braith had given him to a handful of guards in the black and gold of Cambren, and soon after was dismounting in the courtyard before Dun Carreg’s feast-hall. A stable-boy came to take his mount and Rafe threw some strips of meat to Sniffer and ordered him to stay, a few moments later finding himself standing in the feast-hall waiting for Evnis. The hall was empty, the fire-pit dark and cold. Rafe’s eyes wandered, saw black scorch-marks scarring timber pillars and supports, testament to the night Dun Carreg had fallen. Rafe’s eyes searched out the spot where his da had died.