Roxane was sitting outside her house when he rode into the yard. It was a poor place. Her beauty seemed to fit into it as little as a jewel in a beggar’s hut. Her son was sleeping in the doorway beside her, curled up like a puppy, his head on her lap.

“He wants to come with me,” she said as Fenoglio slid clumsily off the horse. “The little girl cried, too, when I told her I had to go away. But I can’t take them, not to Argenta. The Adderhead’s had children hanged before now. A friend is going to look after the girl for me, and Jehan, and the plants and animals, too.”

She stroked her son’s dark hair, and for a moment Fenoglio didn’t want her to ride away. But what would become of his words then? Who else would find Meggie? Should he ask Cosimo for another horseman who might not come back, either? ” Well, who knows, maybe Roxane won’t come back, ” the insidious voice inside him whispered. ” And then your precious words will be lost.

”

“Nonsense!” he said angrily, out loud. “I made a copy, of course.”

“What did you say?” Roxane looked at him in surprise.

“Oh, nothing, nothing!” Heavens above, now he was talking to himself. “There’s something else I have to tell you – don’t ride to the mill! A minstrel who sings for Cosimo has brought me news from the Black Prince.”

Roxane pressed her hand to her mouth.

“No, no. It’s not so bad!” Fenoglio quickly reassured her.

“The fact is, Meggie’s father has obviously been taken prisoner by the Adderhead, but to be honest I feared as much. As for Dustfinger and Meggie – well, to be brief, the mill where Meggie was going to wait for my letter seems to have burned down. Apparently, the miller is telling everyone that a marten made fire rain down from the roof, while a wizard with a scarred face spoke to the flames. It seems this wizard had a demon with him in the shape of a dark-skinned boy who saved him when he was wounded and helped him and a girl to escape.”

Roxane looked at him with a thoughtful expression, as if she had to search for the meaning of what he said. “Wounded?”

“Yes, but they escaped! That’s the main thing. Roxane, do you really think you can find them?”

She passed a hand over her forehead. “I’ll try.”

“Don’t worry,” said Fenoglio. “You heard what they’re saying. Dustfinger has a demon protecting him now. In any case, hasn’t he always managed very well on his own?”

“Oh yes, indeed he has!”

Fenoglio cursed every wrinkle on his old face, she was so beautiful. Why didn’t he have Cosimo’s good looks? Although would she like that? She liked Dustfinger, who ought to have been dead by now if the story had gone the way he had once written it. Fenoglio, he told himself, this is going too far. You’re behaving like a jealous lover!

But Roxane was taking no notice of him, anyway. She looked down at the boy sleeping in her lap.

“Brianna was furious when she heard I was going to ride after her father,” she said. “I only hope Cosimo will look after her and won’t begin his war before I get back.”

Fenoglio made no reply to that. Why tell her about Cosimo’s plans? To make her even more anxious? No. He took out the letter for Meggie from under his cloak. Written words that could become sound, a mighty sound .. He had never before made Rosenquartz seal a letter so carefully.

“This letter can save Meggie’s parents,” he said urgently. “It can save her father. It can save us all, so take good care of it!”

Roxane turned the sealed parchment this way and that, as if it seemed to her too small for such great claims. “I never heard of a letter that could open the dungeons of the Castle of Night,” she said. “Do you think it’s right to give the girl false hopes?”

“They aren’t false,” said Fenoglio, rather hurt to find that she had so little faith in his words.

“Very well. If I find Dustfinger, and the girl is still with him, she’ll get your letter.” Roxane stroked her son’s hair again, very gently, as if to brush away a leaf. “Does she love her father?”

“Yes. Yes, she loves him very much.”

“My daughter loves hers, too. Brianna loves him so much that she won’t speak a word to him now. When he went away in the old days, when he just used to go into the forest or down to the sea, anywhere that fire or the wind happened to lure him, she would try to run after him on her little feet. I don’t think he even noticed, he always disappeared so fast, quick as a fox that has stolen a chicken. But she loved him all the same. Why? That boy loves him, too. He even thinks Dustfinger needs him, but he needs no one, only fire.”

Fenoglio looked thoughtfully at her. “You’re wrong,” he said. “He was wretchedly unhappy when he was away. You should have seen him.”

She eyed him incredulously. “You know where he was?”

Now what? Old fool that he was, what had he said this time? “Well, yes,” he stammered. “Yes.

Yes, I was there myself.” He needed some lies, and where were they? The truth wasn’t going to be much use this time. A few good lies were needed to explain everything. Why shouldn’t he find a few good words for Dustfinger for a change – even if he envied him his wife?

“He says he couldn’t come back.” She didn’t believe it, but you could tell from Roxane’s voice how much she wished she did.

“That’s exactly how it was! He had a bad time! Capricorn set Basta on him, they took him far, far away and tried to make him tell them how to talk with fire.” Here came the lies now, and they might even be close to the truth, who could say? “Believe me, Basta took his revenge for your preference for Dustfinger! They shut him away for years, and he finally escaped, but they soon found him and beat him half to death.” Meggie had told him that part. A little of the truth couldn’t hurt, and Roxane didn’t have to know that it was because of Resa. “It was dreadful, dreadful!” Fenoglio felt the pleasure of storytelling run away with him, the pleasure of watching Roxane’s eyes widen as she hung on his lips, waiting eagerly for his next words. Should he make Dustfinger a little villainous after all? No, he’d killed him once already, he’d do him a favor today.

He would make his wife forgive him, once and for all, for staying away those ten years.

Sometimes I can be a truly benevolent person, thought Fenoglio.

“He thought he’d die. He thought he’d never see you again, and that was the worst of it for him.”

Fenoglio had to clear his throat. He was moved by his own words – and so was Roxane. Oh yes, he saw the distrust disappear from her eyes, he saw them soften with love. “After that he wandered in strange lands, like a dog turned out of doors, looking for a way that would take him not to Basta or Capricorn but to you.” The words were coining as if of their own accord now. As if he really knew what Dustfinger had felt all those years. “He was forlorn, truly forlorn, his heart was cold as a stone from loneliness. There was no room in it for anything but longing – longing for you. And for his daughter.”

“He had two daughters.” Roxane’s voice was almost includible.

Damn it, he’d forgotten that. Two daughters, of course! But Roxane was so rapt with his words that his mistake didn’t break the spell.