'You are safe with me,' he said.

'I know that, Lord. You are a good man.'

'No, I am not. But you can trust my words. No further harm will come to you, and I will see you safely home.'

'I do trust your words, Grey Man,' she replied. 'My uncle said that words were just noises in the air. Trust deeds, he told me, not words. I will not be a burden to you. I will help with your wounds as we travel.'

'You are not a burden, Keeva,' he said softly, then heeled his horse forward. She rode alongside him.

'I told them you were coming. I told them you would kill them. But I didn't really believe it. I just wanted them to know fear as I knew fear. Then you came. And they were terrified. It was wonderful.'

They rode for several hours, heading south and west, until they came to an old stone road leading to a secluded fishing settlement on the banks of a wide, flowing river. There were some forty houses, many of them stone-built. The people here looked prosperous, thought Keeva. Even the children playing close by boasted tunics without patches or any sign of wear, and all wore shoes. The Grey Man was recognized instantly and a crowd gathered. The village headman, a small, portly man with thinning blond hair, pushed his way through them. 'Welcome, sir,' he said, with a deep bow. Keeva could see fear in the man's eyes, and felt the nervous tension emanating from the small crowd. The Grey Man dismounted.

'Jonan, isn't it?'

'Yes, sir. Jonan,' answered the little headman, bowing once more.

'Well, be at ease, Jonan, I am merely passing through. I need some food for the rest of the journey, and my companion needs a change of clothing and a warm cloak.'

'It will be done instantly, sir. You are most welcome to wait in my home, where my wife will prepare some refreshment. Let me show you the way.' The little man bowed once more and turned towards the crowd. He gestured once at them, and they all bowed. Keeva climbed down from the tall horse and followed the two men. The Grey Man did not show any evidence of his wounds, save that there was still dried blood on his ripped tunic.

Jonan's house was of sand-fired brick, the frontage decorated with blackened timbers, the roof covered by red terracotta tiles. Jonan led them into a long living room. At the northern end was a large fireplace, also built with brick, and before it were set several deep leather chairs and a low table. The floor was of polished timber, adorned with attractive rugs, beautifully crafted from Chiatze silk. The Grey Man eased himself into a chair, resting his head against the high back-rest. A young blonde woman entered. She smiled nervously at Keeva and curtsied to the Grey Man.

'We have ale, sir,' she said, 'or wine. Whatever pleases you.'

'Just some water, thank you,' he replied.

'We have apple juice, if that would be preferable?'

He nodded. 'That would be very fine.'

The headman shifted from foot to foot. 'May I sit, sir?' he asked.

'It is your house, Jonan. Of course you may sit.'

'Thank you.' He sank into the chair opposite. Keeva, unnoticed, sat down cross-legged upon a rug. 'It is a great pleasure and an honour to see you, sir,' continued Jonan. 'Had we known you were coming we could have prepared a feast in your honour.'

The woman returned, bringing a goblet of apple juice for the Grey Man and a tankard of ale for Jonan. As she backed away she glanced down at Keeva and silently gestured for her to follow. Keeva rose from the floor and walked from the room, through the hall beyond and into a long kitchen. The woman of the house was flustered, but she offered Keeva a seat at a pine table and filled a clay cup with juice. Keeva drank it.

'We did not know he was coming,' said the woman nervously, sitting down opposite Keeva. She ran her fingers through her long, blond hair, pushing it back from her eyes, and tying it at the nape of her neck.

'It is not an inspection,' said Keeva softly.

'No? You are sure?'

'I am sure. Some raiders attacked my village. He hunted them down and killed them.'

'Yes, he is a terrible killer,' said the woman, her hands trembling. 'Has he harmed you?'

Keeva shook her head. 'He rescued me from them. He is taking me home.'

'I thought my heart would stop beating when he rode in.'

'He owns this village too?' asked Keeva.

'He owns all the lands of the Crescent. Bought them six years ago from Lord Aric, though he has been here only once in that time. We send him his taxes. In full,' she added quickly. Keeva did not respond to this. Surely no community paying full taxes could afford so many fine clothes, furniture and Chiatze rugs. Nor would they be so nervous concerning inspections. But, then, withholding taxes was, in her limited experience, a way of life among farmers and fishermen. Her brother had always managed to squirrel away one sack of grain in twenty to sell at market in order to supply small luxuries to his family, like new shoes, or a better-made bed for himself and his wife.

'My name is Conae,' said the woman, relaxing a little.

'Keeva.'

'Did the raiders kill many in your village?'

'Five men and three women.'

'So many? How awful.'

'They came in at dusk. Some of the women managed to run, taking the children with them. The men tried to fight. It was over very quickly.' Keeva shuddered at the memory.

'Was your husband among them?'

'I am not married. I was living in Carlis with my uncle, and when he died last year I went to work for my brother. He was killed. So was his wife. And they burned down our house.'

'You poor girl,' said Conae.

'I am alive,' said Keeva.

'Were you close to your brother?'

'He was a hard man and he treated me like a slave. His wife was little better.'

'You could stay here,' said Conae. 'There are more young men than young girls and a pretty creature like you could find a good husband.'

'I am not looking for a husband,' said Keeva. 'Not yet,' she added, seeing the concern on Conae's face. They sat in uncomfortable silence for a little while, then Conae smiled awkwardly and rose. 'I'll fetch you some clothes,' she said. 'For your journey.'

As Conae left the room Keeva leant back in the chair. She was tired now, and very hungry. Am I evil not to mourn Grava's death? she wondered, picturing his broad face, and his small, cold eyes. He was a brute and you hated him, she told herself. It would be hypocrisy to pretend grief. Pushing herself to her feet, she moved across the kitchen, cutting herself a slab of bread and pouring another cup of apple juice. In the silence she could hear the conversation from the living room. Chewing the bread, she moved closer to the wall. There was a closed wooden hatch, crafted so that food could be passed from the kitchen. Putting her eye to the crack, she saw the Grey Man rise from his chair. Jonan stood also.

'There are bodies in the woods to the north-east,' said the Grey Man. 'Send out some men to bury them, and gather whatever weapons and coin they were carrying. These you can keep. You will also find horses. These will be brought to me at my house.'

'Yes, sir.'

'One other thing, Jonan. Your profits from smuggling are nothing to do with me. Taxes on goods shipped in from Chiatze lands are subject to the Duke's laws not mine. You should bear in mind, however, that punishment for smugglers is severe indeed. I am reliably informed that the Duke's inspectors will be sent out in the next month.'

'You are mistaken, sir. We don't. . .' His words tailed away as he met the Grey Man's gaze.

'If the inspectors find you guilty you will all be hanged. Then who will bring in the fish and pay me my taxes? Are you all blind here? You are a fishing settlement and yet your children wear clothes of the best wool, your women boast brooches of silver, and your own house has three rugs that would cost a year's profit from a good fishing vessel. If there are any old clothes left in this village I suggest you find them. And when the inspectors arrive make sure they are worn.'