‘I’ll go again,’ Jeorg said resolutely. ‘If Rannick’s in the castle, I’ll take my chance on dodging his men.’ He tapped his head. ‘I go through the route continually in my mind, and I’ve still got the maps and notes we prepared, wrapped up safe and sound at the bottom of my pack.’

Yakob and Harlen looked unhappy, but Gryss nod-ded. ‘You’re still the best choice for the job,’ he said. ‘But we’ve got to be far more careful this time. They’ll kill you without a doubt if they catch you again, and who knows what reprisals they might take against the rest of the village?’

‘I know,’ Jeorg replied, his voice untypically soft. He tapped his head again. ‘I go through that continually as well. And don’t think I relish the prospect of trying again. The whole idea frightens the breeches off me.’ He paused, and then almost spat out, ‘But doing nothing’s rotting me. And it’s no guarantee of safety for the village. Rannick’ll turn on us sooner or later, I’m sure. You all know what he’s like.’ He looked around the table. His pain was reflected in the faces of his listeners, but no one disagreed.

Despite the grimness of this assessment, Gryss was strangely heartened by the fact that they had all apparently reached the same conclusion as himself about Rannick’s probable future conduct.

Jeorg continued. ‘And talk around the matter as much as you like, it comes to the same in the end. We can’t fight them. That’s a job for soldiers. So someone has to tell the King what’s happened so that the army can be sent to get rid of them.’

A long silence followed this pronouncement. ‘We must work out when and how, then,’ Gryss said eventually, his voice a little hoarse.

‘I can watch the guards downland,’ Marna said.

‘No!’ Both Gryss and Harlen spoke together sharply. Gryss deferred to her father.