With Tilda and Sophie settled, Colm’s body loaded beneath a shroud, and Marn and Wilum side by side with their legs dangling over the tailgate, Malky slaps the reins and steers the lumbering cart out of the yard. At the last, Farra offers to accompany them. “If it would be of use, I could come to speak with the Council.” Abelton leans sideways from the saddle to spit on the ground. Ton’s reaction is more measured. “Our first priority is to deal with Colm’s death. It would serve no purpose to confuse the issues.” “Till next time, then. We’ve some talking to do, once you’ve sorted your immediate problems.” Neither Councillor replies. As their horses clatter onto the road, Farra grins. “Can’t have them thinking they’ll be able to brush us under the carpet.” The cart reaches the turn that will take it from sight. “I only hope that Wilum knows what he’s doing. That Abelton’s a nasty piece of work.”
