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'What the hell are you all moaning about?' That was Elja, and she sounded hard, firm, resolute. 'It was all Eyvind's fault; he was supposed to be your friend, and he started this stupid feud. If it hadn't been for him, we'd all be getting on with our lives in the places where we ought to be. Come on, we all knew that before we started this. Otherwise we wouldn't have done it.'

The roof-tree fell in, lifting up a cascade of sparks, like a mob of crows put up off a newly sown field. It was a beautiful sight, regardless of context. 'If anything's to blame,' someone said, 'it's the mountain. If that hadn't started playing up, we'd none of us be in this mess.'

'Yes,' Poldarn said, 'but it was my decision. It all went wrong when Boarci died. I could overlook the rest, there was a sort of cack-handed justice about it, but he saved my life, and there wasn't anybody else to stand up for him. But getting killed like that was his own fault. He should never have stolen that barrel.'

'True,' Elja said. 'But if you hadn't hidden it, he couldn't have stolen it. You shouldn't have done that.'

'I did it for you,' Poldarn mumbled. 'So you'd have something to eat besides porridge and onions. It was only a little thing.'

'So's the peak of a mountain,' Elja replied, 'but everything else stems from it. I don't suppose it matters now, but if you want to know where it all started to screw up, that was it.'

'You should have killed Eyvind back in the old country,' Asburn said. 'Didn't he try to kill you the first time you met him?'

'He saved my life,' Poldarn replied. 'And anyway, it's not as simple as that. Nobody's to blame here except me. I killed a man, for no reason. I hid the barrel. I turned the fire-stream away. I brought Boarci home, and if I hadn't he'd still be alive.' He tried to look away, but the burning house held him, as though he was the one lying pinned by a fallen rafter. 'I did it all, everything. At the time, each time round, I thought I was doing the right thing-no, I was doing the right thing. At every turn, all I wanted was to be a good man, honourable, putting others ahead of myself. And this is where I've brought you all to, by doing the right thing. I guess that's the way it's got to be, with me. Everything I do turns bad on me, and I've never knowingly done anything wrong, in the small part of my life that I can remember. I don't know; Raffen, you're a sensible sort of man, what would you have done, if it'd been up to you? If you'd been the head of house and the fire-stream was headed straight at you down the mountain, what would you have done?'

Raffen laughed. 'Not what you did, that's for sure. But only because I wouldn't have had the wit to think of it. Maybe you're too smart for your own good.'

'You can't say you're sorry for doing that,' Asburn put in. 'It was amazing, how you thought of it. Anybody else would've run away, but you didn't. You figured out a way to save the house, and you made it happen. Nobody else could've done it but you.'

Poldarn closed his eyes. 'And look what happened. I saved the house from being burnt down by the fire-stream, then came back and did the job myself.'

Someone was pulling at his arm. 'Stop it.' Elja's voice. 'Listen to yourself, will you? You're trying to make out you're some kind of evil monster. Well, if you were, wouldn't I be the first person to know it? After all, I'm married to you. But I know for a fact you aren't evil, you're just a man who's done what he had to do, and in the end it's meant you've done some pretty unpleasant things. So, that's how it is sometimes. But I don't blame you, because it's not your fault, really it isn't. I don't think it was anybody's fault, it was just the way things turned out. Worse things than this happen every day, and the world doesn't come to an end. Don't stand there staring at me,' she went on. 'You've all done worse things than this, and for less good reasons-or haven't any of you gone raiding over the winter, and burned down whole cities, not just one house, all so there won't be witnesses, anybody who can say what we look like or where we come from? Is that a good reason for killing people, women and children? Oh, you can say it's because of what was done to us in the old country, hundreds and hundreds of years ago, but that's not why you do it, and you know it. It's just the most efficient way of going about the job, and you don't care about the people who get killed any more than you care about smoking out a wasps' nest. And that's all right,' she continued, 'because everybody does it and nobody even thinks about whether it's right or wrong. But you-' she tugged at his arm again, like an impatient child-'you've been fretting and worrying yourself about whether you're doing the right thing or not, but it's not like you ever had any choice-well, except for hiding the barrel, but you didn't mean for any harm to come of it, you were just trying to be nice. And when Boarci got himself killed, you did the right thing, you sorted out a settlement; and then they had to go and break it, sneaking over here and stealing that horse because Eyvind changed his mind. That was that, there was no way we could trust them after that. One morning we'd have woken up and there we'd be again, them pointing spears at our throats and moving us on because they wanted their farm back, or killing us even, because Eyvind had changed his mind again. You thought, the only way we'll ever be safe is if Eyvind and all his people are dead and can't hurt us any more. There really wasn't anything else you could have done, honestly.'

Poldarn pulled his arm free. 'I know that,' he said. 'That's what I've been trying to tell you. Even when I do the right thing, it comes out bad. In which case, what sort of a man am I? I don't know, I can't remember. But even if a fire can forget it's a fire, if you stick your hand in it, it'll still burn you. The only thing that matters is what people do. Everything else is beside the point.'

'And you're forgetting something really important,' Raffen added. 'We won, remember? They're all dead and we're all alive. Isn't it obvious what that means? We must've been right and they must've been wrong. Otherwise, nothing makes any sense.'

Nobody replied to that. Instead, there was an uncomfortable silence, until Asburn said: 'Well, so what're we going to do now?'

Poldarn opened his eyes and turned round to face them all. 'We're going to go home and get on with our work,' he said. 'There's nothing more to be done here, and plenty to be getting on with at home.' He looked up at the sky, but the red glow in the east was the fire-stream rolling over Haldersness. 'We'll have to stay here for the rest of the night,' he said. 'It's still four or five hours before sun-up. I don't think this is a good place to hang about, but we can get our heads down in the barn. Even if anybody does turn up looking for us, they won't expect to find us there. Then, as soon as it's light, we'll be on our way.'

'Fair enough,' said Reno. 'I suppose someone'd better stay awake and keep an eye out, just in case.'

'I'll do that,' Poldarn replied. 'I don't suppose I'd be able to sleep tonight.'

He was wrong about that. About an hour after the rest of them had settled down in the hayloft, he opened his eyes and found himself in a garden. It was a stunningly beautiful place (I must be remembering, he thought, I'd never be capable of imagining something like this). A closely mown raised camomile path led arrow-straight from the steps of the house behind him, which he couldn't see, to an ornate wrought-iron gateway. On either side of the path were neatly trimmed enclosures surrounded with knee-high hedges of box and lavender; inside each enclosure, intricate flowing patterns were picked out in flowers, their colours matching and contrasting to emphasise the clarity and grace of the design. In the centre of each enclosure there stood a small arbour, iron trelliswork covered in climbing roses. Another path bisected the first at right tangles, dividing the garden into four perfect squares; and at the point where the paths met, there was a circular fountain. Without being aware of having moved, he found himself sitting on a marble bench looking down into the water. He couldn't see his reflection because the streams from the fountain jets disturbed the surface, but that didn't matter, because he knew perfectly well who he was: this was his garden, and he was at home. Everything here was in its right place, because he'd put it there; he'd directed the placement of each flower, each bush, each slab of stone; it was his creation, a place he'd made where everything was right and all the choices had been good.