‘Not exactly. With faith, there is no cost, no price to pay. But spells are . . . different. Firstly they are harder to perform, in one sense – there is the gathering of ingredients, how to prepare them, knowing the words of power and so on.’

‘Like a poultice, or medicinal potion?’

‘Exactly.’

I knew she wanted to talk about this, would not be able to stop once she started.

‘Although from what I can see, the ingredients are not so easy to come by as meadowsweet or foxglove, or as pleasant.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, the ingredients for these spells are often hard to come by, and by and large unwholesome.’

‘Unwholesome?’

‘Yes. For example, blood is often an ingredient.’

Cywen was silent. She didn’t like the sound of this, just talking about it was making the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end.

‘But there is also another cost.’ Brina stopped there, looking around to check that no one was listening.

‘What other cost?’ Cywen prompted.

‘I’m not sure,’ Brina said. ‘The book hints and alludes, but –’ she shrugged – ‘I need more time to work it out. It is appealing – could be useful in this God-War. To go into battle knowing what you are capable of, having confidence in what you can do. Not like my poor Heb . . .’

‘I don’t like it,’ Cywen muttered.

‘I don’t like it either,’ Brina retorted. ‘But that doesn’t mean you don’t use it. I don’t like swords or spears, or fire when it’s used to burn a person. There is much in life I don’t like. But should I throw away or choose not to use a weapon that could help us win?’

‘I don’t know,’ Cywen said begrudgingly.

‘I know you wish to speak of this with Corban,’ Brina said. ‘I am asking you to wait. There is more I have seen – hints and riddles about the cauldron, about the Seven Treasures. I am trying to understand it.’

‘We could ask Balur, or Meical,’ Cywen said.

‘No,’ snapped Brina. Then, calmer: ‘Please. Let me try. Just a little longer.’

I guess I owe her that much. If spells can help us then we should probably take every opportunity. Still, I don’t like it . . . and if she doesn’t tell Corban soon then I will.

Having reached a resolution with herself, Cywen slipped into silence again until she saw a group of riders cantering towards them from the east, a score, maybe a few more.

Brina kicked her horse on.

‘Where are you going?’ Cywen asked her.

‘One of the benefits of being a counsellor,’ Brina said over her shoulder, ‘I get to be nosy.’ She cantered down the column towards Corban.

Cywen thought about that a moment.

Well, I am Brina’s apprentice, or assistant, or whatever she likes to call me. So I should assist her. She kicked her horse after Brina.