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by the fire, its eyes fixed on Rhiannon’s pocket.
    Finn and Jay were silent as Rhiannon ate and drank ravenously. When at last she had finished, and the soldier had taken her bowl away to wash in a saucepan of melted snow, Rhiannon sat back and returned the gaze of the two who had been examining her with such curiosity while she ate. She had spared them little more than a glance at the trial. All her attention had been on the witnesses brought against her, and the judges who had condemned her.
    Now she looked them over with open curiosity. Finn was tall and lithe, with messy brown hair that caught the red of the firelight. The elven cat had stalked into her lap and was now kneading its claws in and out of Finn’s leg.Finn stroked it absentmindedly, her head bent down to rest on her other hand. She looked tired.
    Jay was not much taller than Finn, and slender, with dark hair and eyes and olive skin. Although, like most witches, his hair was long, it was neatly bound back in a queue and his beard was clipped. This may have been because it was rather sparse, or it may have been to prevent attackers from seizing it and using it against him. Both Finn and Jay were dressed in the clothes of a soldier – a padded leather breastplate and gaiters and a thick grey cloak. Rhiannon saw that their cloaks, like hers, were blue on the inside, and wondered that these witches wore the uniform of the Yeoman of the Guard, the personal bodyguard of the monarch.
    ‘So tell me, Rhiannon,’ Jay said. ‘Last time I heard your name ye were a prisoner o’ Sorrowgate Tower. What do ye do here in the Whitelock Mountains?’
    ‘The Banrìgh sent me to get back Roden, and the prionnsa and banprionnsa,’ Rhiannon said.
    ‘Iseult sent ye?’ Jay began, but Rhiannon interrupted.
    ‘No’ the auld one. The Banrìgh Bronwen. I have her paper.’
    When Jay spoke, she could hear the smile in his voice. ‘Poor Iseult! She is no’ so auld. Only forty or so. But I suppose to a young one like ye … so it was Bronwen who sent ye?’
    ‘Aye.’
    ‘I imagine the Banrìgh could see the advantages o’ having a thigearn on the trail o’ the laird o’ Fettercairn. Certainly we’ve failed to lay them by the heels. Their plans were well laid.’
    ‘Aye,’ Rhiannon repeated. She still felt on guard with the fiddler, but his gentle voice and manner were doing much to calm her.
    ‘We’re on their trail,’ Finn said defensively. ‘We’re getting closer all the time.’
    ‘So tell us how ye came to wrest Roden from them?’ Jay asked.
    Rhiannon gave him a brief explanation. By the time she had finished, she was having difficulty hiding her yawns, and she saw Finn was also yawning so wide her jaw cracked.
    ‘It will no’ be so easy next time,’ Jay said.
    ‘No,’ Rhiannon agreed. ‘They will be watching the sky now.’
    ‘Did they say where they were going?’ Finn said.
    ‘Something about a ship,’ Rhiannon answered. ‘Naught more.’
    ‘That is no use,’ Finn said restlessly. ‘We’ve guessed already they head for the coast. What I want to ken is where on the coast they plan to embark. I hate trailing behind them like this, trying to guess their next move.’
    ‘Well, we ken they head to the Pirate Isles, to the grave o’ Margrit o’ Arran,’ Jay said. ‘Or at least we think we ken that is where they are going. Isabeau is convinced that is why they have abducted Olwynne, to sacrifice her to raise Margrit o’ Arran from the dead.’
    Rhiannon nodded. ‘She wanted me. But they couldna take me. So they took the banprionnsa instead. Happen they realised she is the one who truly has the ruthless heart.’ She spoke with bitterness. Jay regarded her with a little frown, not understanding her final words but sensing the real hurt behind them.
    ‘We will just keep following them and do our best to catch up,’ Finn said. ‘We need to get Roden home to safety first. Happen ye had best take him, Rhiannon.’
    Rhiannon regarded her