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Actual fact, I had Raffen and Sitrych clear the weeds out, winter before last.’
    Sitrych, Poldarn thought, which one is Sitrych? Then he remembered; of course, the short, square man two down on Grandfather’s left. At that moment, Sitrych was conscientiously chewing on a crisp, hard pear, his eyes fixed on a space about two feet over Poldarn’s head.
    â€˜I can’t picture it,’ Poldarn admitted, ‘but once we’re there I expect it’ll come back to me.’
    His cup was empty, and there was that boy with the jug again. He put his hand over the cup. The boy stared at him, stood awkwardly for a moment, and then moved on down the line.
    â€˜You weren’t at the forge today.’ Not a question, or a reproach, or an accusation; just a statement of fact.
    â€˜No,’ Poldarn said. ‘I was helping Eyvind get in that gravel.’
    Halder frowned, just slightly. ‘I think you should make sure you put your time in there,’ he said. ‘There’s still a lot you’ve got to learn.’
    Poldarn looked up. ‘Seems a bit pointless, really,’ he replied. ‘After all, we’ve already got a smith, best on the island by all accounts. I can’t see where there’s any need for me to get under his feet when he’s busy.’
    Halder’s glare was like a slap round the face. ‘I think midmorning’d be a good time to go down to the wood,’ he said. ‘That way you can put in a good morning at the forge and be back when Asburn’s ready to start again in the afternoon.’
    Well, Poldarn thought, I tried; I failed, but nobody knifed me. So, no harm done, at any rate. ‘That seems sensible,’ he said. ‘Very good cheese, this.’
    â€˜That’s the last of the eight-weeks,’ Halder said. ‘The six-weeks’ll be ready tomorrow.’
    Well, yes, Poldarn said to himself, it would be, wouldn’t it? ‘Hope it’s as good as this,’ he said. Halder looked at him as if he’d said something that didn’t make sense.
    That night, when the tables had been put away and the fire was burning low, Poldarn made a conscious effort and called up the memory of that childhood walk among the trees. Mainly it was because he couldn’t sleep – with the exception of Halder and Rannwey, who had the private room at the far end of the house, everybody slept on the floor of the hall, wrapped in blankets like a nest of silk-moths, and he found this hard to get used to – and recalling his childhood made a change from counting sheep. Partly it was conscientious reconnaissance in advance of tomorrow’s expedition, in case there was something there he needed to be prepared for. To a certain extent, though, it was little more than self-referential tourism, a leisurely visit to the garden spot of his past, with a packed lunch and a parasol. In this respect, he was as limited as a citizen of Boc Bohec, whose choice of pleasant walks was limited to two rather crowded public parks; Poldarn had very few genuine memories to wander through, and several of them weren’t places where he’d choose to spend time if he could help it.
    Probably overtired, he told himself, which is why I can’t get to sleep. He propped himself up on one elbow and looked round at the neat rows of sleepers, dim shapes in the flickering red glow of the fire, like a mass cremation. It stood to reason that these people ( his people, must get used to thinking of them as that) should all roost together, all fall asleep together (because when the mind falls asleep, the parts of the body have no choice but to sleep too). Poldarn knew for a certainty that he was the only person awake in the whole house. In a way, it was a good feeling; for the first time in days, he could really be on his own, instead of being alone in the middle of a crowd.
    But leaning on his elbow gave him cramp, so he lay down again and closed his eyes,