One part of me was glad to have thought of a way to fit what I had learned into my theory of Hannah as Rushton’s ancestor, for I was very fond of it, but it was hard to think of Hannah meeting and so swiftly bonding with a man after I had just read Jacob’s scribings to her. His feelings for the Beforetime woman were achingly fresh in my mind, and it almost seemed a betrayal that she would have bonded with someone else. Yet no matter how Jacob had felt about her, maybe Hannah had not loved him, save as a dear friend and benefactor.

My eyelids were growing heavy but I resisted sleep. These last few moments each night were all I allowed myself for daydreaming about Rushton and I wondered with a wry smile if he struggled to push me to the back of his mind as hard as I did to stop myself thinking of him. But I had seen how deeply he loved me when I had delved into his mind on Norseland, so I knew the answer to my question.

Turning onto my back again, I closed my eyes and summoned up the memory of our last hours together in Sador. Rushton had spent the night preparing to petition the Sadorian tribal leaders for the use of their remaining two greatships on the voyage to the Red Land. It had been just before dawn when he had finally come to my tent, his face still badly bruised from his ordeal on Norseland. His eyes had been weary but full of tenderness. How hard it had been to tell him that I had to return to Obernewtyn that very day.

I had feared he would argue, or worse, that he would be hurt or angry, but instead he had jumped to the conclusion that I had experienced a premonition that compelled me to return to the mountains. I had not corrected him because the Agyllians’ stern injunction never to reveal my quest meant I was unable to tell him Maruman had commanded me to return. Quite aside from the constraints of my quest, I felt obliged to Atthis because she had helped me to save Rushton’s life on Norseland.

I let the memory run on until the moment before our parting, when Rushton had taken me into his arms and kissed me hard enough to bruise my lips, whispering, ‘You are mine, whatever else you are …’

I thrilled at the memory of that kiss and the words he had spoken with such fierce passion, but another voice, cool and female, intruded into the memory – the futureteller Dell, informing me: Before the next wintertime ends, you will bid farewell to all that you love and you will journey far over land and sea …

I opened my eyes to gaze at the shifting play of firelight on the roof and thought of the clawed darkness that had pursued me through my dreams the previous night. ‘Come back soon, Rushton,’ I whispered. ‘Come back while there is still a little time for us …’