I was sorting through my medicine bag (and wishing I had far more of everything in it) when Atreh returned.

Naturally I looked for Malcolm also. When I did not see him, I was not overmuch concerned to begin with; it would make sense that the chiefs would wish to speak to him at length. Doubtless news of his arrival would have travelled across the Plains as gossip always travels.

I was a little surprised, however, that Atreh had left him to find his way back to us alone; despite Malcolm's being able to speak our tongue well enough by now, there was little doubt that he would be a source of wonder to the tribesmen too, and suspicion to some. I could only hope that the Truce would be thought to apply to even adopted members of Briai's clan, however strange they might appear to others. Still, I knew well that my stallion had fighting skills quite unknown to the Tribes (I had not been exempt from the 'self-defence' classes he had organised for the women), and I was confident enough that if challenged he was more than capable of looking to his own safety.

Ai! I hardly paid any attention at all when my old friend stepped to the open ground beside the fire and began to speak. Yet within the first couple of words he had my attention well enough. I could hardly believe what he was saying.

"The LefTenAnt will not be returning to us." His voice was hard and carrying, as he doubtless meant it to be. "He was charged by the Lord Oriche with sorcery, and he has admitted the charge."

"What?" Bihiv leaped to his feet. I was too frozen to move. "He has admitted it?"

"Fully and freely." The face I had always thought handsome was graven in stone. "He is to be kept among the priests until the battle. Briai has commanded it, for the safety of the Tribe. None here are to approach him, or to speak with him if he finds ways of attempting to communicate. As far as we of the Longtail tribe are concerned, he is an Outcast."

"And after the battle?"

I heard Bihiv's demand through the ringing in my ears. Outcast, Outcast… I imagined the knife cuts in his cheeks, and the blood springing, mixed with ash driven home…

I would go with him. Wherever he went I would go, even if it was to death. I remembered words he had murmured against my hair one night: 'Wherever thou goest I will go, and wherever thou livest I will live; Thy people will be my people, and thy god my god…' He said they were words from his people's Holy Book, and when he translated them they moved me almost to tears.

It had amazed me when I first discovered he could read and write, and that even the lowest among his people possessed these skills; among the People only the greatest of the priest-kind are taught the knowledge of understanding the Sacred Marks. Nevertheless, even though we do not make the marks we have our Story Tellers and our Singers, who draw the Tales in pictures of fire on a winter's evening so that everyone from greatest to least sits entranced to listen. The night Malcolm revealed those words to me I thought that whoever wrote them had been a Story Teller beyond praise, to catch the words of a maid's heart and set them down where even the gods might read them.

I was on my feet. I did not even remember moving. "Take me to him."

Atreh looked back at me steadily. "Briai forbids it."

Until that moment I had not known I could feel such rage, but when I spoke my voice was steady and cold. "He has no right."

"He is your Tribe Lord and he has every right. If you have been ensorcelled his duty is to protect you."

Ensorcelled! I could have laughed, wept, screamed. Enchanted perhaps, but ensorcelled? Never, not until the sun rose in the west and set in the east, would I believe that Malcolm Reed was a sorcerer. He was too much a man for that. What need did he have for sorcery over me, when with one look from him I would have risen and followed him to the end of the world?

Clearly my thoughts must have shown too plainly in my face, for Atreh stepped closer. "Hear me in this, Jessa, I will have you bound if you try to go to him. I will not have you endangered."

"Endangered!" Now I did scream, uncaring of anyone who heard. "Endangered, by the man who cares for nothing but protecting his brothers! By the man who has done nothing but serve the village since he came to it! By the man who has lain with me night after night, the only one to treat me not only as a woman, but as his equal!

"Great Mother! If anyone is ensorcelled, it is Briai, to believe such nonsense!"

His own anger ignited. Small wonder – I had just insulted his soul-sire, and a man of far lesser mettle than Atreh would have taken offence. With two swift strides he closed the remaining distance between us.

He was intimidating at close quarters, but I did not care, for all his height. I matched him glare for glare. Was he also ensorcelled, that he believed such folly?

His hands closed on my shoulders, and were not gentle. He put his head down, so that our faces were almost touching. Despite the pressure of his fingers on my flesh, his expression was now desperately earnest, as was his voice when he spoke. "Jessa, if you have ever trusted me, I ask you to trust me now."

Trust him, when he wished to keep me from my beloved in such deadly danger? I pulled my head back, my glare unabated, and opened my mouth to hurl defiance of folly and forbiddance and all.

And yet, I did trust him. I had always trusted him, and he had never failed me yet.

My mouth closed, with the words of defiance unuttered. For a long moment I measured him. "I will be guided by you," I said at last, stiffly. "But for all my brown eyes, I too have my honour. And if the Goddess prompts me to go to him in his need, then I will go."

"That is all I ask of you," he responded gently. "I thank you, Jessa."

He released me and stepped back. The others of the tribe had also heard, and there were many troubled and anxious looks; Bihiv slipped an arm around my waist. "There is no doubt?" he pleaded.

Atreh shook his head. "He has admitted to it," he repeated. "In my hearing, he said that his purpose is to ensure we defeat The Others. If that requires sorcery…"

He was not the only one to look dubiously at the jars containing the 'bitumen' that we had carried into camp and set to one side.

I, however, was looking around for those to whom this news of Malcolm's fall would be neither unexpected nor unwelcome. I knew they would be there, and it was therefore no surprise to me when I encountered Bradda's hastily-hidden smirk of satisfaction. He had always been Roish's man, and he had been one of the outriders first into camp; it would have been the work of moments for him to have poured his poison into waiting ears. All know that the priest-kind cleave to their own, and Roish had never forgiven Malcolm for being found in the Sacred Cave – or for being the innocent cause of that brat of hers being beaten for his ill manners. She had found little support in our own village, but there would be many ready ears in others. More: doubtless when Rakhor and Thais had visited, Makia had taken the opportunity to drip poison into any accommodating ear. As the talk of the stranger had spread, so, in all probability, had the poison. Too many are too eager to think ill of those they do not know.

"If it requires sorcery, then we should only be thankful to the Gods that we have a sorcerer," I said, loudly and with all the scorn I could put into the words. "And it may even be that those wretches who have worked ill for him this day will have cause to be grateful for any 'sorcery' he works on our behalf. If, indeed, they know the meaning of gratitude."

To do him justice, Bradda had the grace to redden slightly at that. He was not a bad man, simply weak and easily led. And I had noticed before that love makes fools of the best; this was certainly true in Atreh's case, though I thought that that particular folly was waning. While Makia was able to show him naught but her sweetest face and accommodating body, he had been deceived. Since Malcolm's coming, however, some of that external gloss had been torn away, revealing the ugliness beneath. Lately I had occasionally caught him watching her with something close to distaste rather than the admiration that had so galled me before, knowing it misguided – and (the Goddess forgive me for rejoicing in another's loss!) I was more thankful than I could express that he was no longer the captive he had been.

Well. There was no more I could do for the present. As Atreh walked away to his own fire I sat down again and began to re-pack the contents of my medicine bag, which had spilled on to the ground as I stood up. My actions were simply out of habit, however. My heart and mind were far away, mourning and raging with my separated lover, falsely accused.

Falsely, I was sure; but Atreh said he had admitted it. Why should he have done so, when it was not true? I did not understand, but still my trust in him was absolute. I sent out my spirit to touch his, as I had done so often at the peak of our pleasure, and the memory sent shudders of longing through me that I prayed he would feel. Yes, love … yes… now… oh yes… Almost I could hear him crying out, and had to bite my lip not to cry out in answer.

Across the fire from me, Bihiv sat also down, his lips shaping unheard curses, and began sharpening the blade of his knife, which was already sharp enough to cut the wind. Still in the year of his Proving, by the reckoning of the People he was hardly more than a boy; but he was old enough to carry a borrowed sword in battle, and more than old enough to die on one.