‘Yes. I am aware.’

‘Enriching your knowledge: a hundred years ago none of the Gulf’s ports used to freeze. A hundred years ago–there are numerous accounts of it–cucumbers and pumpkins used to grow in Talgar, and sunflowers and lupins were cultivated in Caingorn. They aren’t cultivated now, since their growth is impossible; it’s simply too cold there. And did you know there were once vineyards in Kaedwen? The wines from those vines probably weren’t the best, because it appears from the surviving documents that they were very cheap. But local poets sung their praises anyway. Today vines don’t grow in Kaedwen at all. Because today’s winters, unlike the former ones, bring hard frosts, and a hard frost kills vines. It doesn’t just retard growth, it simply kills. Destroys.’

‘I understand.’

‘Yes,’ Nimue reflected. ‘What more is there to add? Perhaps that it snows in Talgar in the middle of November and drifts south at a speed of more than fifty miles a day. That at the end of December and the beginning of January snowstorms occur by the Alba, where still a hundred years ago snow was a sensation? And that every child knows that the snows melt and the lakes thaw in April in our region, don’t they? And every child wonders why that month is called April–the Opening. Didn’t it surprise you?’

‘Not especially,’ admitted Condwiramurs. ‘Anyway at home in Vicovaro we didn’t say April, but Falsebloom. Or in the elven: Birke. But I understand what you’re implying. The name of the month comes from ancient times when everything really did bloom in April…’

‘Those distant times are all a hundred, a hundred and twenty years ago. That’s virtually yesterday, girl. Ithlinne was absolutely right. Her prophecy will be fulfilled. The world will perish beneath a layer of ice. Civilisation will perish through the fault of the Destroyer, who could have, who had the opportunity, to open a path to hope. It is known from legend that she didn’t.’

‘For reasons that the legend doesn’t explain. Or explains with the help of a vague and naive moral.’

‘That’s true. But the fact remains a fact. The White Frost is a fact. The civilisation of the northern hemisphere is doomed to extinction. It will vanish beneath the ice of a spreading glacier, beneath permanent pack ice and snow. There’s no need to panic, though, because it’ll take some time before it happens.’

The sun had completely set and the blinding glare had disappeared from the surface of the lake. Now a streak of softer, paler light lay down on the water. The moon rose over Inis Vitre, as bright as a gold sovereign chopped in half.

‘How long?’ Condwiramurs asked. ‘How long, according to you, will it take? I mean, how much time do we have?’

‘A good deal.’

‘How much, Nimue?’

‘Some three thousand years.’