Idlis must have sensed Karan’s need to be alone with Sulien, for he moved the Whelm’s camp over the ridge, out of sight. Karan limped back and forth, gathering firewood and collecting water, then setting up their little tent, for it was already sprinkling.

She cut up strips of fatty bacon, sizzled them in the pan with an eye-stinging yellow onion and the shrivelled remains of the carrots and beans she had brought from Gothryme, added water and stirred in cracked wheat to thicken it. They had eaten the same meal every day but she was too hungry to care.

Sulien sat under a tree twenty feet away. She had not spoken since Ragred’s death, which was worrying. She was normally such a chatterer. Karan could not imagine what Sulien must be thinking. It was a wonder she had not shut down completely.

Karan was close to it herself. She kept reliving Ragred’s attack and the axe in his back, the magiz’s agony as her leg had been destroyed and, most chilling of all, Sulien clutching at her head as that slow trickle of blood ran from her nose.

And then there was Llian, held prisoner by Snoat and soon to die. He must be desperate.

Karan filled two bowls with soup and took them to the tent, one at a time. She was shaking so badly that she had to use both hands. “Come here.”

A wary look crossed Sulien’s face, then she ran and snuggled under Karan’s left arm. They sat in the entrance and ate their soup in silence. The fire crackled. Raindrops pattered on the roof of the tent.

“How is your throat, Mummy?” said Sulien very formally.

“The hot soup stings, going down.”

“It’ll be better in the morning.”

“Yes.”

The stilted exchange died. Karan ran through her options again but saw no solution. The magiz would take time to recover, though when she did she would pursue them even more relentlessly – it was personal now. She would trace Karan through the psychic stigma and attack Sulien, so what choice was there but to send her away with the Whelm?

Though if she did, Sulien could only take it as a betrayal by the one person she had always relied on. Besides, Idlis’s actions had reminded Karan that the Whelm could be inhumanly ruthless.

The rain grew heavier and they retreated to their sleeping pouches. Sulien laid her head on Karan’s breast, sighed and wriggled around, then settled. Karan did not. Trying to rescue Llian with a child in tow was out of the question. If she was caught or killed, Sulien would be alone and defenceless in a land where she knew no one.

“Are you worrying about Llian?” Sulien said softly.

She hardly ever called her father by his name. It was a troubling sign. Karan did not want to burden her any more than she was already, but if they were to part she had to know everything.

“You didn’t hear Ragred’s last words,” said Karan. “Once Snoat gets what he wants from Llian he’s going to…”

“Kill him.” Sulien clung to Karan. “We’ve got to save Daddy.”

“But the stigma the magiz put on me means I can’t be with you. It’s too dangerous.”

Sulien said nothing for such a long time that Karan felt sure she had fallen asleep. She stared at the fire through the triangular opening. There was no solution.

“Thank you,” said Sulien.

Karan started. “What for?”

“For talking to me like a grown-up.”

Karan hugged her.

“The Whelm are very strange, aren’t they?” Sulien added.

She crawled out of her sleeping pouch into Karan’s, and soon she slept.

Hours passed and Karan was still turning possibilities over, desperately seeking a solution where there was none. There had to be a way to protect her. Malien had to unblock Karan’s gift for mancery, whatever the risk. Karan reached out to her but could not make a link; she could not sense Malien at all.

The logs crumbled to winking coals, the coals to ash. A breeze drifted smoke into the tent. Sulien coughed once without waking. The pattering rain died away to occasional spatters of heavy drops as the breeze shook the branches above the tent. Finally, Karan slept.

She woke with a start, more tired than when she had lain down to sleep, to find Sulien up and dressed, cooking bacon and toasting stale bread. Her hair was freshly brushed and tied back in a curly pony tail, her pack stood outside the tent and the water pot was boiling.

Karan staggered out, rubbing her bruised throat and swollen cheeks. The Whelm were coming down from their camp, lugging their gear towards the track and saddling their emaciated mounts. Sulien heaved out Karan’s pack and the saddlebags. Karan choked down her bread and bacon, washed it down with bitter herb tea and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Tears kept forming in her eyes; she scoured them away.

Sulien, who was down on the track talking to Yetchah, came solemnly up the hill, lifting the silver chain over her head. Yetchah was close behind.

“I want you to have this back, Mummy,” Sulien said, holding out her hand. Fiachra’s chain formed a small silver pool there.

She was normally a grubby child, but her hands were clean and pink as if they had been freshly scrubbed, her fingernails were clean, and she was wearing her best clothes. A chill settled over Karan. It was as if Sulien was preparing for a funeral.

“You need it more than I do,” Sulien added. “For protection.”

Karan took the chain but did not put it on.

“What protection?” said Yetchah, frowning.

Reluctantly, Karan gave it to her. Yetchah stroked it, both ways.

“The protection is blocked and I can’t unblock it,” she said, handing the chain back. “It’s useless.”

“War is coming,” said Karan, shivering and clutching Sulien tightly, “and Snoat has weakened us when we most need to be united.”

“War is coming,” said Yetchah. “I can almost touch it.” The Whelm exchanged glances.

“You’ve got to save Daddy,” said Sulien.

Karan felt hot and flushed; she was drenched in sweat. She swallowed. “I don’t see how I can.”

Sulien looked up at her, then at Idlis and Yetchah and the other grim-faced Whelm, then back at Karan. She squared her small shoulders. Her lower lip trembled but she managed to still it.

“I’d only be in the way. I’ll go with Idlis and Yetchah.” She turned to Idlis. “You will take me, won’t you?”

Suddenly his ugly face was lit by an astounding inner glow, unlike any expression Karan had ever seen on the face of a Whelm.

“We will take you home with us, little one,” he said, almost as overwhelmed by the moment as Karan was. “And treat you just like our own children until Karan comes for you.”

It was far worse than if she had sent Sulien unwillingly. No child should have to make such an act of self-sacrifice.

“You will save Daddy,” said Sulien, staring at her with a mixture of hope and desperation. “Won’t you?”

Karan lifted Sulien and squeezed her tightly, her tears raining down on the child’s upturned face.

“Whatever it takes,” said Karan, “I’ll do it. And after we’ve finished the magiz and broken the summon stone, we’ll come and take you home.”

Karan could not tell if Sulien believed her preposterous statement. Nevertheless she swallowed audibly, wiped her eyes and went to Idlis and Yetchah.

The dreadful parting had come. The Whelm were heading south-west across the rugged hills, and Karan was going west to Chanthed. Her sole consolation was that Sulien would soon be beyond the reach of the magiz.

They said their goodbyes, then, frozen in despair, Karan watched Sulien’s small white-faced figure ride away. No moment in Karan’s life had ever been as bad. Would she be safe? What if the magiz found her anyway? Could the Whelm do anything to save her? Would they even know she was being attacked, or would they just find her small, cold body after the magiz had gleefully drunk Sulien’s life to feed her own sick addiction?

When they were out of earshot, Karan screamed until she tasted blood in the back of her throat and every bird in every tree for a hundred yards around had taken flight.

She looked after the Whelm but even their small dust cloud had dispersed. It was done, and she had to be just as strong.

“Let’s get moving,” she said to Jergoe. He felt like the only bit of home she had left.

Jergoe flicked his ears. She wheeled and galloped for Chanthed.

Whatever Yetchah had done to the silver chain, it had also heightened Karan’s sensitive’s gift. She could sense the ruin inflicted by Snoat’s armies; if she closed her eyes and imagined a map of Iagador, a stain was creeping down from Thurkad and the conquered lands to its north.

It was inching west towards Bannador and south towards central Iagador. Once they fell, only one great force would remain, the Free City of Sith. Sith was strong, but it had fallen to Yggur twelve years ago and it could fall again. When that happened, there would be no effective resistance left. And then the Merdrun would invade.

It was a distraction she could do without. She slipped the chain into a pocket and buttoned the flap.

“Faster, Jergoe.”