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you some stew when she comes in the morning. ThoughTaris knows, there’s not much to put in it. Calwyn dear, you must eat and rest. And your friends, too.’
    Trout needed no more prompting. ‘Thank you,’ he said fervently, tearing one of the flat-cakes in half.
    ‘Thank you!’ echoed Mica.
    Calwyn accepted a piece of flat-cake, but she didn’t eat it. I can’t even sing up a bucket of water , she thought bitterly. Not even that.
    ‘Oh, dear, there aren’t any spare blankets,’ fretted Ursca as she stoked the tiny stove.
    ‘We got our own sleepin-furs,’ said Mica. ‘Don’t you worry bout us.’
    ‘Shouldn’t you go now?Won’t they miss you?’ said Trout.
    ‘Yes, I mustn’t stay any longer. I’m glad you’ll be with our Lady Mother, Calwyn dear. Her mind is troubled. I can’t be here as often as I’d like, and I fear the Goddess may take her soon. Now remember, so long as you don’t touch her skin, you’ve nothing to fear, no matter what Tamen says. Your friends can tend to her, they’ll be quite safe.’
    Calwyn said, ‘Mica is a chanter.’
    ‘Oh! But – she’s an Outlander.’
    ‘I were born in the Isles of Firthana,’ said Mica. ‘My grandma were a windworker, and so am I.’
    ‘Well, fancy that,’ said Ursca blankly. ‘A windworker.’
    ‘I’ll take care of her,’ offered Trout.
    Ursca looked at him doubtfully. ‘Dear me! Still, I suppose we’ve no choice, and with Calwyn to watch over you…She has a gift for healing, this one! Sleep tight, my dears. Gilly will come to you in the morning. Best pull up the ladder when I’m gone.’
    Ursca’s curly grey head disappeared down the ladder, and presently they heard a faint thread of song as Ursca sang a chantment to fill her footprints with snow. Then the only sound was Marna’s laboured breathing, and the rustle of mice in the hay. The three looked at one another, subdued.
    ‘I’ll see if I can plug that gap.’ Trout clambered up and started wrestling hay bales into position.
    ‘Cal?’ said Mica in a small voice. ‘I ain’t goin to die, am I?’
    ‘Don’t be silly, Mica, of course not. Your skin didn’t touch Athala – you were wearing gloves.’
    There was a silence.
    ‘Calwyn?’ askedTrout over his shoulder. ‘Chanters know other chanters, isn’t that what you and Darrow always say? So why can’t Ursca andTamen tell that you’re not a chanter any more?’ Calwyn took a sharp breath, and it was Mica who answered. ‘There’s too many chanters here,Trout – too many!’ she repeated with wonder. ‘Spose you was sittin in the middle of a whole flock of gulls, all squawkin away, and then one goes quiet. You’d never know, would you?’
    ‘I suppose not,’ said Trout doubtfully as he shoved the last bale into place. ‘There! But it’s still freezing in here.’
    ‘Want me to give the Clarion a blast, Cal?’
    ‘All right,’ said Calwyn dully. ‘A small one.We don’t want to set all this hay alight. And Mica – ’
    ‘Mm?’
    ‘You saved us tonight, with the Clarion. But I don’t think we should use it as a weapon. It wasn’t made for that.’
    ‘It were to save Trout!’
    ‘I know, I know. But you could have burned Lia – ’With a pang of guilt, Calwyn realised that she hadn’t asked Ursca to make sure Lia was all right. How selfish she had become. The disgust in her voice was more for herself than Mica as she said, ‘We should find another way.’
    ‘There weren’t no other way!’ cried Mica, tears springing to her eyes.
    ‘All right, never mind,’ said Calwyn sharply. ‘There’s nothing to cry about.’ Suddenly she was unbearably weary; her bones ached with tiredness. She pulled a sleeping-fur from the pack and made herself a nest in the hay, close to Marna.
    She could hear Mica and Trout murmuring to each other; perhaps they were grumbling about her, and the fine welcome Antaris had given them. Mica blew gently into the Clarion. The little horn glowed golden, and a soft, clear note