‘It doesn’t fly,’ replied Rochant. ‘It floats. There’s sapphire growing in the stone that is lifted by the essence currents.’

‘What’s an ess-ss-ense current?’

‘Imagine a wind that only blows certain things. If you dropped a leaf it would fall straight down, but the right kind of crystal would be carried by it.’

They walked on for a while as he digested this. ‘Who carried the rocks up there?’

‘A good question. The truth is we know far too little about how it was done. The castles were constructed at the end of the Unbroken Age, and predate all of the Deathless in House Sapphire. Only the very oldest of us know anything about that time, as the castles and the Godroads came before we did. The High Lord of House Spinel is said to have been born at the end of that era, but he lives a long way away from here and doesn’t travel, so I haven’t ever had the chance to ask him. Perhaps, when things are calmer, I’ll ask for permission to visit.’

‘If you go, can I come with you?’

‘We’ll see. One journey at a time.’

The morning moved into afternoon, the three suns pale discs behind a curtain of cloud. They were walking alongside the Godroad, keeping to the edge of the trees. Though Tal was nowhere near as fast as Sa-at, and clumsy, there was no doubting his tenacity. He bore the brunt of Rochant’s weight without complaint, his pace unchanging, steady.

Crowflies screeched in the distance.

‘Is someone coming?’ asked Tal.

‘Yes,’ Sa-at replied, frowning. ‘But …’

‘But what?’

‘I don’t know. Crowflies sounds odd. I can’t tell if its excited or worried.’

‘We shouldn’t take any chances,’ said Rochant. ‘My enemies won’t brave the Godroad, but they have agents who will.’

Tal started dragging him towards the trees, leaving Sa-at standing alone. He scratched at the scar on his knuckle, frowning at the shape materializing on the Godroad. It was an old wagon, drawn by a giant five-legged Dogkin, with fur as white as the snow on the mountaintops.

Crowflies came down to land at Sa-at’s side. It looked from him, to the wagon and back again. ‘Sa-aat.’

‘What is it?’

The Birdkin began to sing a lullaby, one of his favourites. A strange sensation began to rise in his chest, as if too many feelings were coming all at once, and had got stuck trying to get out.

As the wagon got closer, he could see people sitting on it. One of them was a man, pale and broad shouldered, his eyes intent on the road. The other was a woman, with long dark hair. She was looking at him.