‘It’s so good to see you,’ he managed eventually. ‘Where have you been? What have you been doing? What…’ His voice fell. ‘What in the name of all that’s merciful are you doing coming back this way? Did you come through the Pass?’

‘We crossed it,’ said the elder of the two. ‘We didn’t mean to return this way, but…’ He stopped and shrugged. ‘It’s a long story.’

Andawyr made a gesture that indicated they had all the time in the world, then impatiently seized the hand of the second rider. Taller and younger than his companion, he had fair, curly hair and a round face which, for all it was weather-worn and had lines of strain about it beyond his age, had also an unexpected hint of innocence.

‘Jaldaric. You’re getting more like your father every day,’ Andawyr advised him, as much for want of something to say as anything else. He clapped his hands excitedly, then put his arms around both of them again. Yatsu disentangled himself and indicated the third rider, who was still mounted.

Andawyr looked up at him. In age, he was perhaps between his two companions but, though he sat straight and upright, he had the aura of someone much older. And he had black-irised eyes that returned Andawyr’s gaze disconcertingly.

‘This is Antyr,’ Yatsu said. ‘A valued friend. He’s been travelling with us and I think, like us, he’d value some simple hospitality – or at least a soft bed.’

Antyr dismounted and offered his hand to Andawyr who clasped it with both of his own. ‘Welcome to Riddin, Antyr, valued friend of Yatsu and Jaldaric. Welcome to the Cadwanen and to whatever hospitality we can offer you.’

‘Thank you,’ Antyr replied, bowing slightly.