‘Better to call it a nightmare than a dream,’ Analivia said in a sombre tone. ‘I dreamed it a lot of times for a while when I was young, and there was more to it each time. That first time, I saw only a terrible vision of a land laid waste, everyone dead, all of it Blacklands. I thought I was true-dreaming of the Great White but the next time I dreamed it, I flew further and saw other lands, and they were all burnt and blackened and dead, too. Night after night I dreamed of deserts of black sand and lakes burning with witchfires; I saw forests of trees made of black glass, bare hills littered with bones that lay bleaching in the sun, oceans black and gelid with foulness. Night after night, whichever direction I took, I saw death.’ There was a long moment when she visibly drew herself from the dark vision she had woven for all of us, and then she met my eyes.

‘I did not have the nightmare for some years after that, but it came to me again when I found out my father and Moss had not died escaping from the Councilfarm. I was not surprised, for men like that do not die meekly. I wondered if there was not some connection between my father and my nightmare. Since the time the nightmares started when I was a child, I had heard him talk with his cronies of finding Beforetime weapons powerful enough to strike terror into the hearts of Herders and rebels alike, the threat of which would ensure obedience and stabilise the power of the Council, which is to say, his power, since he was its master.’

I nodded to her to continue.

She shrugged. ‘You were right in guessing I went looking for my father and Moss. I rode down to the lowlands and camped in the forest near Sawlney, intending the next day to go into the town and confront Jude. But that night, the dream came again, only there was one difference. This time a voice spoke saying that what I had seen was a possible future, but that it would not come to pass at the hands of my father or brother and that there was only one person who could stop it. Then I saw a vision of you riding through the mist with a cat on your shoulder and a dog at your heels. It shocked me, not because it was you, but because when my father first sent Moss and Bergold up to hold land for him, I dreamed of a woman riding through the mist, with a cat at her shoulder and a dog following but her face was hidden. That time a voice spoke to me, too, as I watched the unknown woman ride away into the mist, warning me that I must take care I did not stand by and watch harm done, for to do so was an evil as great as if I had done it myself. At the time, I took the voice as that of my own conscience because I had become accustomed to turning my mind and eyes from the evils done by my father and brother. I saw at once that volunteering to go with Bergold had been simply another means of turning my eyes away. It was the next day that my brother and I came upon you and some of your companions by the road close to my brother’s orchard.’