‘Maybe,’ said Jolaine, an enigmatic glint in her eyes. ‘Only when the silt of centuries has soaked away will I be able to tell. Of course they may be worthless…’

‘But you don’t believe that for one moment!’ Why else would you be taking such trouble to clean and restore them?’

‘Oh! That’s just the peculiar obsession of an old woman. I’m a magpie, Orial. I collect anything that catches my eye. But how can I help you, my dear?’ Jolaine eased herself into a chair opposite Orial’s.

‘You’ve read many old texts and manuscripts, Jolaine. I – I wanted to know if you’d ever come across an illness called – Accidie.’

‘The… Accidie?’

‘You have heard of it!’ said Orial, sitting eagerly forward.

‘I’ve unearthed many strange facts about this city and its inhabitants over the years. A place with as ancient and mysterious a past as Sulien engenders many fanciful theories amongst historians and scholars. Most are unproven. You must remember that if you are determined to pursue this enquiry any further.’

Jolaine rose rather unsteadily to her feet and tottered off towards a dark-shadowed book-stack; Orial heard her muttering to herself from the gloom.

Orial twisted her fingers together nervously, feeling them wet with perspiration. She began to wonder whether she had overturned a stone only to find a myriad scorpions nesting beneath.

‘Aha!’ Jolaine emerged triumphantly from behind the stack, carrying a cobwebbed ledger. As she placed it on the desk, Orial saw a spider hurriedly descending from her wig on a single silken thread, then scuttling away across the papers. Smothering the urge to giggle behind her hand, she brushed away the dusty webs from the cover and spelt out, Sulien – Legends.

‘There’s all kinds of fantastical foolishness in here. Moonshine. But maybe a thread of truth runs through it,’ Jolaine said, untying the faded ribbon and pulling out a sheaf of manuscripts. ‘Take a look at this old monograph: “A Discourse on the Auncient Citie of Sulien and its Healing Springs”.’

Orial squinted at the indistinct handwriting, pushing her spectacles higher on her nose to try to decipher it more clearly:

Legend relates that the citie was founded by invaders from far across the seas. The strangers called themselves ‘Lifhendil’, which approximately translates into our modern tongue as Songspinners. The legend tells that their gift for music was so great, they could charm the birds from the trees with their singing.

I have heard it saide hereabouts that once in a generation or so, a child is born with Songspinner gifts. Apparently these unique individuals can be identified by their eyes which display multi-coloured irises of great beauty.