With a sinking heart, Liska realised there would be no stripe-giving. This event was a crisis meeting, not an award ceremony. She and Lug were just there as witnesses: children who happened to have been in that particular place and had been asked to tell their story before the grown-ups discussed what to do about it.

Well, I’m not having that. Liska knew she might never have an audience with a treekeeper again, let alone one so important. She decided to make the most of it.

‘If you please, sir. I mean . . . Edda.’ The towering treekeeper looked down at her once more. ‘My friend Lug here has a plan to destroy Bitterblight. Perhaps you could consider it in your council? It’s a good plan, one that won’t force us to use the heart of the Undrentree at all. I can tell it to you if you want?’

She felt Lug go rigid beside her. He gripped her cloak with his hand, so tight that the bones began to crack, and hissed at her through gritted teeth. ‘Liska! What in the Tree are you doing?’

‘A plan?’ Edda leant forward again. ‘Yes, young vermispex, I would like to hear. As long as it is brief.’

‘I . . .’ Lug began. Beads of sweat formed on his brow, and Liska thought his eyes might actually pop out of his sockets and tumble down his cheeks. ‘It . . . I . . . argh . . .’

‘What he’s trying to say,’ Liska jumped in to help, ‘is that there’s this other sacred tree, way up in the north. The shadow tree that should be fighting it has been frozen, so its heart is there for the taking. We can use that to kill Bitterblight instead of taking our own.’

‘Ah,’ said Edda. ‘The legend of Nammu.’ He gave his floor-rumbling chuckle again, and many of the mages in the room behind them joined in. ‘I am glad you have been paying attention to Master Ambrose’s history lessons. But I am afraid that story is just a fable. The glacier was almost upon it centuries ago. Everything there will be far under the ice by now. Too good to be true, alas . . .’

He waved his hand again to dismiss them, and this time Liska felt her mother step behind her and practically drag her away. She managed a quick glance at Lug and saw him glaring daggers at her. She wanted to go over to him and explain, but her mother was already whisper-shouting in her ear.

‘. . . dare you bother Master Edda with nonsense? On your special day as well!’

‘But, Mother!’ Liska hissed back. ‘I had to try! Lug says . . .’

‘I don’t care what that skinny worm-botherer says! You had a chance – a second chance – to impress the treekeepers and the other walkers and you ruined it with nonsense about fairy-tale trees!’

‘It’s not nonsense!’ Liska was pleading now. ‘Lug knows something! He’s got a secret . . .’