‘I know. The days are too short,’ Veradis finished for him. There was a change in Nathair. Veradis recognized it. The same aura surrounded Alcyon, always had.

Melancholy.

‘Aye, they are,’ Nathair agreed.

‘We have now, though, at least.’ Mist drifted around their feet, evaporating with the rising sun. Behind them Uthandun was a hazy shadow, the sounds of its waking distant and muted. All seemed still and silent. Veradis pulled a wine skin from his shoulder and pulled out the stopper with his teeth. ‘Good wine from Ripa,’ he said, grinning.

Nathair smiled at that, took the skin and drank deep. For a moment Veradis thought he’d drain the whole skin. He passed it back, a drop of dark red wine running into his short beard.

Veradis offered some to Alcyon.

‘So, tell me of Murias,’ Veradis said to Nathair.

Nathair grimaced, a twist of his mouth. ‘The Benothi were fierce, fought harder than I imagined possible. Wyrms guarded the cauldron, many. Three, four score of them. Near a thousand of the Jehar fell.’ He recited the facts with little to no emotion.

He speaks as if he is reading it from the histories, not as if he were there, in the thick of it.

The Jehar were the most accomplished and deadly warriors Veradis had ever witnessed. He could not imagine a foe strong enough to slay a thousand of them.

‘How many Benothi were there?’

‘A few hundred,’ Alcyon said. ‘But many sided with Uthas.’

‘Survivors?’ Veradis asked.

‘Uthas has fifty or so Benothi with him,’ Alcyon answered. ‘Of those who stood against us, they have joined with Meical and the Black Sun. Maybe thirty.’

‘And what of Cywen?’ That was a question he’d wished to ask since Nathair had arrived, but felt somehow foolish asking it when the others were around.

‘Cywen,’ Nathair raised his eyebrows and Alcyon looked at his feet.

‘She escaped,’ Alcyon rumbled. ‘Another failure that I am held accountable for.’

‘Corban took her. He appeared when the battle for the cauldron was at its most fierce,’ Nathair said. ‘I saw them flee the hall together.’

Good. Veradis did not know why, but it was important to him that Cywen lived. That she was safe. She had seemed to be an innocent swept up in dark times. Not that she is safe while in the company of the Black Sun.

‘I met Corban, the Black Sun,’ Veradis said. ‘He was at the Battle of Domhain Pass, led a night raid on Rhin’s warband. He wore a wolven pelt, he and a few others.’

‘He has a wolven,’ Nathair said. ‘Storm, he calls it. It was at Murias.’

‘Aye. Between them they scared the living hells out of Rhin’s men. Many fled during the night.’

Nathair shrugged. ‘I’m not surprised, if they thought wolven were fighting against them.’

‘He called for you – Corban, when he saw the eagle-guard and our shield wall.’