A silence fell over the courtyard and Brina sang the first lines of the lament, the melody stark and pure, Gar and Wulf adding their voices first, then more joining until the whole host sang the song for the dead, their voices rising to deafening crescendo, filling Cywen’s heart with a tide of emotion. As the last notes died, Wulf and Gar stepped forward and threw burning torches at the feast-hall steps.

The steps and hall had been doused with oil, and flames roared skywards, hungry and crackling. In short moments the hall was ablaze, heat rolling at them in great waves.

Wulf turned and left the courtyard, followed by Corban and then all of the others. As Cywen mounted her horse she saw Gar standing before the gates, outlined by flames, still staring at the hall.

Cywen glanced sidelong at Brina.

Should I talk to her, about last night, about the book? After all that’s happened it seems almost unimportant . . . Still the memory of the giant words she’d seen had haunted and swirled about her mind throughout the whole long day. She’d wanted to talk to Corban about it, but there had been no opportunity thus far.

‘You might as well come out and say it,’ Brina said acerbically. ‘Holding your tongue suits you just about as much as it does your brother.’

They’d ridden leagues across rolling meadows, their convoy now close to a thousand souls, heading steadily towards what looked like an ocean of trees that filled the horizon in every direction. Behind them the hold still burned, a flickering beacon upon its hill.

‘The book,’ Cywen said, talking quietly, even though they were riding between two wains full of the injured and semi-conscious.

Brina sighed, lips pursing, but she said nothing.

She’s not going to make this easy.

‘It scared me,’ Cywen said.

Brina was silent, again. Cywen thought she would not answer. Then Brina spoke softly.

‘It scares me, too.’

‘It is a book of spells, isn’t it?’

‘Aye, some of it is.’

‘I don’t understand. I thought the book is about faith, that being an Elemental is simply believing it and speaking it. That’s what you told me – that’s what the book says. I read it myself.’

‘Aye, that’s right,’ Brina said. Her wrinkled face twitched.

‘So why the need for spells, when faith is all?’

‘Faith is not all,’ Brina snapped. ‘That is the point. Faith can be strong, then weak, then gone, all in the same person, all in the space of a hundred heartbeats. That’s why Heb died. His faith wavered.’ She was silent a moment, abruptly her breathing laboured. ‘So the book explains the alternative. The other way. Spells give the wielder more control, more consistency.’

‘So they’re easier?’