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rags were gone; at some point during the three days since our escape, he had acquired a set of plain clothing, trousers, shirt, tunic, cloak, boots. If he had a pack or weaponry, he’d left it out there in the woods.
    The food was soon gone; it would be way-bread for breakfast. I hoped the fish would be biting again tomorrow.
    ‘First good meal I’ve had in days,’ Grim said. His voice was markedly steadier, but he was avoiding my eye. ‘Thank you, Lady.’
    One thing needed sorting out quickly. ‘I’ve got a different name now. Blackthorn. Don’t call me Lady.’
    There was a pause, then he said, ‘Blackthorn. That’s a healer’s name, isn’t it? A wise woman’s name.’
    ‘That’s right. It’s what I was, a long time ago. But Blackthorn’s not my old name, it’s a new one, from the day we left that place.’
    ‘Mm-hm. Good choice. It suits you.’
    ‘Prickly and difficult.’
    Another silence. ‘Not how I’d put it, but yes, that too.’
    ‘Grim.’
    ‘Mm?’
    ‘I’ve got a bit of a story to tell you. About what happened that day. But first, who got out? Apart from us, I mean?’
    The silence stretched out so long this time that I thought he was not going to answer at all. Then he said, ‘Poxy and Dribbles. Got out and away as far as I know.’
    ‘Nobody else?’
    ‘Just them and us, Lady. I mean Blackthorn. Have to get used to that.’
    No, he wouldn’t, because after tomorrow morning we’d never need to see each other again. ‘You’ve got some questions to answer,’ I said. ‘But first I’ll tell you the story.’ As simply as I could, I told him about the fey benefactor who had come from nowhere, and had offered me freedom provided I went to Dalriada and didn’t come back. I explained that I had promised to go back to my old craft and use my skills to help people. Conmael’s other requirements, I did not share; there was no need for Grim to know. But he did deserve an explanation of the strange event that had killed our cellmates. ‘I don’t think Conmael cared at all who was hurt or who died,’ I said. ‘Only, for some reason, that I should get out before Mathuin’s men came to make an end of me. Thank you for helping me that day.’
    ‘That was nothing,’ he mumbled. ‘Just wish I could have got the others out too. All of them.’ And after a moment, ‘I don’t trust the fey, and you shouldn’t either. Full of tricks. They say they’re helping you, and all the time they want something from you. You need to be careful. Why would this fellow do that when he was a stranger to you?’
    ‘I have no idea. But I can look after myself.’
    We sat there awhile without talking. The rain was easing off; I hoped the morning would be dry so I could move on quickly.
    ‘Grim?’
    ‘Mm?’
    ‘Why did you follow me? Why are you here?’
    His only response was a shrug.
    ‘Come on, Grim, you can do better than that. Why come after me, and why be so secretive about it? For a while there I thought you were Mathuin’s men. You scared me.’
    He shot me a glance, then looked down at the ground again. ‘Thought you weren’t scared of anything.’
    ‘There’s a difference between being afraid and letting people see that you are,’ I said, pushing back an old memory that threatened to surface. ‘Grim, answer the question, will you? You must have somewhere to go, your old home, your old work. But here you are, sitting by my campfire, eating my food. Why?’
    Nothing; he just sat there hunched over in his blankets, head bowed. From time to time a shiver ran through his large form.
    ‘Come on, Grim.’
    ‘Stupid,’ he muttered. ‘Thought you might need help. Protection, you know? On your own, suddenly back out here, no resources, weakened after so long locked up . . . Seemed as if I might make myself useful.’
    I made myself count up to five before I answered. ‘That was kind of you. But completely unnecessary. I’m well able to fend for myself, and thanks to Conmael’s people I