They woke to a morning made of inky clouds and strong, cold wind, the ground dewy and cold underfoot. The camp had an atmosphere of anticipation and eagerness, though only half of it had stirred so far. Bai sensed the thrill of adventure running through the veins of every life there and it put a spring into his own step. He wondered how Sanna and the Lyr Blaed woman had fared that night, and went to seek them out.

He found the Lyr Blaed woman arguing with Koth over a handful of apples, her chain wrapped securely around her own wrist and not Lute’s. Apparently, she’d taken a shine to his horse and had fed it three small, rosy apples. Koth was livid.

‘Bai penvarzhavoy tethiriu-bhááin. Sól henazhi,’ he greeted Bai formally, the words bitten off with fury. He opened his mouth to speak again, remembered his manners, and hastily bent his right knee, his hands palm up in front of him. ‘Vol’ch zhabis Ni.’

‘No need,’ said Bai, trying to hide his amusement. ‘Sól fehrú azhtán Au. What is the matter?’

Koth straightened. ‘Look at that! Apples! She has fed my mare crabapples!’

‘That fat cow of a mare eats her weight in them every time she gets a chance,’ smiled Bai. ‘Go and get your breakfast, Koth. And then come and find me. Bring Siris and Lute, if you find them before I do.’

‘Does she wish to steal my saddle? Tell her to stay away from my horse. Tell her I am married.’ He glowered at the woman, who stood with her hands full of little pink crabapples, her one eye wide and worried. She’d found a strip of dark blue silk to tie across the other, for which Bai was thankful. The mangled socket was not a sight for gentle stomachs.

He took her aside and explained a few Tethiri rules regarding horses that were not a part of the trading herd, then turned to Koth. ‘Not everyone is aware of our customs, Koth. She means nothing by it and we both know Siris is in no danger of having to watch you be tempted away. Go a little easy on her.’

‘Just as long as she stays away from my horse,’ growled Koth.

‘She was doing no harm.’

‘Crabapples?’ Koth folded his arms. ‘I’m surprised at you. You know as well as I do what they do to my mare! If I catch that woman near her again, Bai penvarzhavoy, I will chastise her myself and take the whipping I will get from you for it with pleasure!’

Bai gripped his friend’s shoulders and tried not to laugh. ‘Not too harshly, Koth. She’s our guest. If it helps, I am washing my hands of her when we get to Vartjastafel, and then she won’t bother you or your poor fat mare anymore.’

He left Koth grumbling to himself and checking his harness over, and went to find Lute.

He found him with Sanna, hovering around Bai’s own fire, trying to engage Naza in conversation.

About him, he realised, as she spotted him coming towards them, and immediately clamped her lips together.

Naza tutted irritably, and shooed her away.

‘I’ve spoken to Koth,’ said Bai, watching Sanna walk back towards the women’s caravans and wondering what she’d been asking Naza. ‘I’ll eat, then go find Siris. We can be on our way in an hour.’

Naza grunted and ladled him a bowl of porridge. ‘Just as well. What did I say? Trouble. She was asking about your wife, Bai cárazhi.’

‘I haven’t got one,’ he said, not comprehending. Lute’s eyes were sharp and displeased.

Naza fixed him with a look, then shook her head at Bai and handed the bowl of porridge over. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing.’

‘I have an obligation,’ he reiterated. He felt as though he had to justify every decision these last few days. He pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘I must honour her request for sanctuary. We can hide her in the rhón easily enough.’

‘And for long enough?’

‘Yes. I’ll send a couple of riders through the hills. The girl’s pursuers will expect her to go hard and fast, and will follow that trail.’

Naza harumphed again and stirred viciously. Bai knew what that meant. It meant she didn’t think he’d quite taken leave of his senses, but neither had he given proper consideration to all angles either.

But he’d have to ask what he’d overlooked, for she’d never tell him otherwise. He sighed. ‘What is it?’

‘The hills?’ Naza looked up, her eyes beady with malice. ‘You’re sending two riders alone through the hills, to protect a girl who is a stranger not just to you but all of us?’

She didn’t need to say it. Bai heard the unspoken accusation as loudly as if she’d yelled it on a thunderclap.

‘Then what? What else should I do? I want any pursuers as far from the rhón as possible. I’d go myself, as you suggested, but for the fact I’m your war-rider and I can’t leave the rhón unprotected. You wanted me to take Lute and go through the hills, and now you object to me sending riders that way? What has changed your mind?’

‘I have not changed my mind. You have magic. Lute has magic. You can get through the hills! Argo is capable enough in your absence, Bai cárazhi. Leave him with us and go yourself with this poselenech runaway. Take Lute, too, like I said. If you’re going through the hills, you’ll need all the magic you can both muster.’

‘Lute’s mother…’

‘…will have to understand that her sweet boy is now a man skilled in both sword and spear, and rides under his war-rider’s command, and at his side! Though I have to say, I believe that we are not always obliged to invoke all our laws if they place too much danger on the tribe!’

‘One girl? You think my warriors can’t handle…’

‘The Beyli of Mortua is a madman and if it suits him to send his entire force after one girl, then he will, and to hell with the consequences! I hope you know what you’re doing.’

‘I do!’ He spoke out of stubborn anger more than any real conviction he was doing the right thing – he could have handed the girl to the poselenech sheriff, after all. But the Tethiri never turned those in need of help away.

Handing her to others who can help is not rejecting our oath to offer succour. But the sheriff in these parts is a greedy, selfish man. I couldn’t live with myself.

He felt as though he’d been thrown in a flood-swollen river and left to fight his way out.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that Naza was right. Trouble was heading his way, and he couldn’t stop it.

And he didn’t even know where it would come from.

Lute, who had got up to go and relieve himself, came back to sit at the fire. Naza gave him a long, knowing look, then handed him a bowl of porridge. ‘You’re going with Bai.’

Lute nodded, not taking his eyes off his bowl as he shovelled the boiled barley and milk down his throat.

Bai resigned himself, and touched Lute’s shoulder. ‘We have to go through the hills. I wouldn’t have anyone but you with me, but Naza is right to say it should be you - for your magic.’ He didn’t question Lute about his magic. There was time for that later.

Lute nodded again and turned aside to pull affectionately at the ears of one of his black-and-white herder dogs, Urthdaro. The other, Tarano, thrust a muzzle under Lute’s arm and wriggled Urthdaro out of the way. Lute laughed and petted them both.

‘Not the dogs,’ said Bai. ‘We’re going fast and hard.’

‘I won’t go anywhere without them. You know that.’ Lute didn’t look up from his dogs. He wiped his hands on his coat, his sleeve-bells tinkling with indignation that anyone should ask he leave his dogs behind.

‘The coat, too,’ added Bai. They could afford no extra noise. ‘Nothing must alert the Ulthvár to our presence in their hills.’

Now Lute did look up, his face pained. ‘My dogs are their kin. They won’t hurt them.’

Naza tutted. ‘Take heed of your war-rider, young man. Your dogs will be safer with the rhón than with you.’

She scraped out the last of the porridge and dumped it in Lute’s bowl, one hawkish eye on her grandson. ‘He’ll need it.’

Bai grinned. Lute was six-foot of lean muscle, broad shoulders and graceful bones, and a bottomless pit when it came to food. ‘Lute, I wouldn’t refuse you anything but your death, and if I say the dogs and the bells aren’t coming, then you’ll leave them behind, and I’ll bring you safely through the hills.’

‘I know that.’ Lute bent over his porridge and dug his spoon in, his boots almost in the fire again, his eyes narrowed black crescents in the smooth pale brown of his face.

I know what that look means. Damn him, he’ll have to learn his place!

Bai stood up, smoothed his hand over the young man’s bowed head in a brief caress, and went to pack a saddlebag for the journey through the hills.