But the pack leader turned his head and gave a sharp snapping bark. The old wolf recoiled, his eyes slitted with rage, and as he slunk back, I noticed that he had lost one ear and that the fur on that side of his head was white.

The leader turned his attention back to me. ‘Speakswift dinrai, for Gobor One Ear will not long be held off. He did be savaged by tha brother and he is not alone in his slaver for vengeance.’

Bewildered, I sent, ‘My brother is long dead, and never did he come to the mountains, let alone do harm to any beast.’

The leader gave a howl that was a hot braiding of fury and humour, and several others joined him. The old wolf had slunk forward again, his eyes blazing red with hatred. I was losing them and I did not know why.

The pack leader sent, ‘Tha brother art dinrai – a maggot-minded funaga-li that can touch the minds of beasts. That one did lure a pack of Brildane cubs an’ cage them. Then he did reach into their minds to eat their pain, while he cut and maimed and rended! Gobor One Ear an’ Descantra alone did escape to return to the mountains. Their brothers did perish.’

Dinrai, I thought. I had assumed it was an insult, but it seemed the wolves used it to mean humans who could beastspeak; not just beastspeakers, but humans who used coercion on beasts as I had done to stop the pack leader attacking Maruman. That was why he named the wolf killer my brother. Yet he had spoken of a human who lured cubs from the pack and put them in cages; who tortured them and enjoyed their pain.

A cold shiver went through me at the knowledge that he could only mean Ariel. I allowed a picture of him to form in my thoughts, knowing that the pack leader would see it because his mind was meshed with mine. But to my astonishment all of the wolves reacted instantly, snarling and growling at me. An older female lifted her head and gave a long mournful howl, and the old wolf that had threatened me sprang. He would have torn out my throat if his leader had not leapt, too, intercepting him and bringing him heavily to the ground. They struggled briefly and viciously, then the old wolf was on his back, the white pack leader’s teeth sunk into the ruff of fur at his grizzled throat.

‘Yield tha, Gobor One Ear,’ the leader sent with ferocious authority.

‘Dost tha defend this maggot mind, Rheagor?’ Gobor hissed. I heard him, though he addressed his leader and not me, and realised that the wolves’ minds were not merely open to one another, but linked, so that in speaking to one wolf, one spoke to the pack.