When I had first known him, it was as an enigmatic farm overseer. I smiled, never quite able to accept the grandiose title for Rushton.

‘A recipe given us by the Master of Obernewtyn himself.’ I lowered my feet gingerly into the shallow panniken. ‘He’s angry with himself because your feet aren’t healing properly.’ Kella poured the liquid in a flat pan, smiling ruefully. And stay off your feet!’ he growled, slamming the door behind him.

‘Soak in that, then rub some of the salve into the soles. There was a knock at the door and Kella entered carrying a jug. I had little interest in such things, but I had met secretly with Garth only that morning. The Teknoguild was concerned with studying the Beforetime and researching the effects, past, present and future, of the Great White. ‘Garth finds no difficulty in remaining in his caves and the Teknoguild works do not crumble because of his inactivity,’ he said with faint asperity. He added significantly, ‘If you would stay in your room in wintertime with banked fires instead of wandering around the draughty halls – and beyond …’ Hefting the weighty bag on to his arm, Roland gave me a piercing look. I was startled at the unexpected touch of humour from the dour Healer guildmaster. ‘It’s true cold doesn’t help the healing process, but whatever miracles healers can do, changing the weather to suit their patient is not among them.’ Roland nodded absently, returning satchels of herbs to his carry-all. ‘Kella said a warmer climate might help.’ I sighed and rubbed the tender soles of my feet. ‘I can do nothing to hasten the healing, Elspeth.

The farseekers