There was a pause; then the man with the club lowered his weapon, and the older one said, “Let her through, boys. Duald, make sure the barrier’s properly sealed afterwards.You can’t be too careful in this mist. Go on, let her in.”

“If you’re sure,Tomas.”

Various bars and logs and pieces of metal were moved apart, and I was admitted to the safe ground within. “This way,”Tomas said as I murmured thanks.

He walked by my side through the village. The houses were bristling with protective measures, the kind used by superstitious folk: triangles of iron nails, bowls of white stones set under steps, other charms to ward off evil. Doors and shutters were tightly closed. Many were barred with iron. What with the shifting light from the torches and the gathering mist, there was a nightmarish quality about the place. In the center of the settlement stood a bigger building, solidly built of mud and wattle and roofed with rain-darkened thatch.

“Whistling Tor Inn,” my companion said. “I’m the innkeeper; my name’s Tomas.We can give you a bed for the night.”

Tears pricked my eyes. I’d been beginning to think I had strayed into a different world, one where everything was awry. “Thank you,” I said.

The inn was locked up. A wary-looking woman opened the door at Tomas’s call, and I was ushered into a kitchen where a warm fire burned on the hearth. Once we were in, the woman set a heavy bar across the front door.

“My wife, Orna,” Tomas said. “Here.” He was pouring me a cup of ale. “Orna, is that soup still warm? This lass looks as if she could do with a meal.”

My heart sank. I made myself speak up. “I have only four coppers. I don’t suppose that’s enough to pay for soup as well as a bed. I can manage without food. I just need to get warm.”

The two of them turned searching looks on me. I could see questions coming, questions I wouldn’t want to answer.