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anything,’ he said. ‘Well, it was all just superstition, anyway.’
    â€˜Maybe,’ Ciartan said doubtfully. ‘Actually, what I think is that Polden had his forge here all the time, and when our people were put in the ships with nowhere to go, he brought them here so they’d be safe and happy, where he could keep an eye on them.’
    Grandfather looked like he didn’t know what to make of that. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘Because, after all, Polden’s only make-believe, he doesn’t really exist. There’s no such thing as gods, as we both know.’
    Ciartan nodded, but he wasn’t convinced. After all, Grandfather didn’t believe in trolls, either, and he was almost certain he’d seen one that time. And if trolls could exist, maybe gods existed too. It’d be great, he couldn’t help thinking, if there really was a big, powerful god living under their mountain, especially if he was a god who liked their people and had undertaken to look after them. The idea of it made him feel safe, somehow, as if the mountain he was standing on was really his home, not the farm way down below in the valley. It’d be fun living under a mountain, with a big fire to keep you warm and all the hot water you could ever want.
    â€˜Anyway,’ Grandfather said firmly, ‘that’s quite enough of that. And now you know the name of this mountain, and a lot about where we all came from into the bargain. It’s important that you remember it, all about the Empire and what they did to us. They were very wicked, and we haven’t forgotten, or forgiven.’
    Ciartan nodded dutifully. ‘I’ll remember,’ he said. ‘Now can we go to the hot springs, please?’
    Grandfather smiled. ‘Well, that’s what we came for, isn’t it?’
    The hot springs were great fun; there was a great big pool, as big as the long barn, and the water was a strange light green colour. It was so hot Ciartan didn’t dare get in it to start with, but once he’d got over the shock it was the most glorious feeling, and he wished he could find the god Polden and thank him for such a wonderful birthday treat. Then there was the waterspout, a hole in the ground out of which a great column of boiling water spurted just when you were least expecting it; and a dozen more hot pools, some of them green like the big one, some of them yellow (Grandfather said it was yellow because of something called sulphur; anyhow, they smelled horrible, and if you dipped your hand in, the smell got into your skin and wouldn’t wash off when you went back in the green pool). Also, the noise was cheerful, the gurgling of the springs and the gruff whooshing sound the water made as it came huffing up out of the rock; if he closed his eyes he could imagine that he could hear words in those noises, as if someone jolly and cheerful was chattering away to himself, a long, long way under the ground. It was sad that they had to leave so early, but Grandfather wanted to be home by nightfall, and they had a long way to go. As they left the hot springs, walking carefully because of the hateful black rocks, Ciartan couldn’t help turning his head and looking back one more time, just in case he caught a glimpse of old Polden, who he was almost certain did exist and did live there; but the mountain was deserted, just himself and Grandfather. Never mind, he thought, I know you’re here, I can feel you; and you’ll always be here when I need you, all I’ll have to do is come back here and there you’ll be. And then he happened to look down, and caught sight of a little pool of the nasty yellow water, and saw his reflection in it.

Chapter Three
    P oldarn opened his eyes.
    He was alone in the hall, and daylight was streaming in through the open door. Damn, he thought, I’m the last one to wake up again. It was embarrassing, though nobody had said anything