Calder’s sign was there, red circle on black, and other famous standards, too. She spotted Jonas Clover loitering near the back. He looked troubled, and Rikke hardly blamed him. He was in some troubling company. No missing the bastards from beyond the Crinna. They were the ones with the paint and the bones. One in particular, grey-haired, grey-faced, grey eyes fixed on her, covered with bones head to toe, his helmet with the skull of some great horned animal on it. And in front of him, on a black horse, a lean man with a sharp face and a fine black fur about his shoulders.

“Black Calder!” she called. “Welcome back to Carleon!”

His mount was restless and he reined it savagely around, keeping his frown fixed on her all the while. “Rikke o’ the Long Eye!”

She tapped at her face. “The only one I’ve got. Who’s your clown?”

“Clown?”

“The joker with all the bones.”

“I am Stand-i’-the-Barrows, girl! Chieftain of a Hundred Tribes, lord of all the fen country from the Crinna to the sea, master of ten thousand spears! I am here to gather bones for my great barrow. Bones of man and woman, wolf and hawk. Bones of girl and boy, lamb and foal. Perhaps I will see how many bones I can cut from your body while you still live. It is a favoured pastime of mine.”

There was a silence, a cold wind blowing up, shaking the budding trees in the distance and sighing across the walls of Carleon. Rikke stuck her little finger in her ear, twisted it, pulled it out, examined the results and flicked them away. “Not very funny, is he?” she said.

“I’m funnier,” said Shivers.

“You’re funny ’cause no one expects laughs from a man with a metal eye, though.” She waved down at Stand-i’-the-Barrows. “If you’re going to wear the motley you’d better be ready for fun! But let’s not drag this out, I’ve got my monthly bleed on and could do with changing my cloth. If gore’s your thing I can toss you down the old one.”

Stand-i’-the-Barrows curled back his lips to spit some answer but Calder got in first. “Our mutual friend, Jonas Clover—”

“I’m not sure Jonas Clover’s anyone’s friend but his own,” said Rikke.

The man in question gave a sheepish grin. “Just trying to get through the day is all.”

“He tells me you’re willing to make a trade,” called Calder. “My son for half the North. That true?”

“Could be.” Rikke leaned on the parapet, arms crossed, hands flopping, necklace dangling, and cast an eye over all those men spreading out around Carleon. “But you brought an awful lot of friends through an awful lot of mud just so we could strike a bargain.”

“My father always said, ‘Speak by all means, but the words of an armed man ring that much sweeter.’ Thought I’d make my words ring as sweetly as I could.”

“They do say you were known for charming the ladies once. Bring the Great Wolf where his da can see him!”