“What’s that one?”

My question made him start. “Thought you were asleep,” he said.

“I can’t sleep. There’s too much going on in my mind. What is that, Grim? It looks like no fish I’ve ever seen.”

“Changed my mind.” He used his knife to feather the reeds that formed the tail, making it into a brush. “Red fox. This one’s for you.”

“Me? Why would St. Olcan’s want a symbol of an unbeliever, and a woman at that?” I could understand why he’d chosen a fox. Apart from the obvious—red hair—a fox was wary, aloof, inclined to snap. Fiercely protective of her own. Cunning, folk said. I didn’t feel very cunning right now.

“Maybe they wouldn’t,” said Grim, forming the fox’s ears into a more pointed shape with a quick twist of the fingers. “But I’m the one making the roof. Fox’ll remind them of what you did. Not just for them, for the whole district. Breaking this curse, that’s no small thing.”

“I haven’t done anything yet. But thanks. You’ve earned a fresh brew. I’ll get up and make it. I might even creep out to the kitchen and find you some food. That was a long night’s work. You’ll need to catch some sleep later.”

“Nah. Want to get these up on the scriptorium roof and be back as quick as I can. Make sure I’m here when you need me. Time enough to sleep after. When it’s all over.” He glanced across at me. “Unless you were planning to pack up and leave straightaway.”

I froze, thinking that he had somehow guessed what Flannan and I planned. But no, of course not. He meant himself and me. The two of us going back to court. Answering would require me to tell another lie. I got up, found the ladle, refilled the kettle from the bucket of clean water, making sure my back was turned to him. “Not today. It’ll be too late. And we’ll all be tired out, no matter what happens. I imagine Geiléis will be happy to house us for another night, especially if I really do manage to break the curse. She offered me silver; did I tell you? We should take it, when this is over. It would be useful back home.”

“Lady,” said Grim, which was a sure sign he was heading into deeper waters, somewhere I did not want to follow, since my self-control was not at its best right now.

“Don’t call me that. I don’t want to think about that time. There’s enough churning around in my head already.”

“You don’t have to do this,” said Grim. “She never asked you, did she? Not straight-out. So you’re not bound to it.” A weighty pause, during which I said nothing at all. “Thing is,” he went on, “no matter how brave you are, no matter how much you practice, you could . . . you could come to grief. It’s not just cutting off this thing’s head. It’s a curse. Magic involved. Anything could happen.”