Despite the distractions Snapper managed to catch a small fish. The excitement with which he set the hook, the grim determination with which he hauled the fish in, and the childlike pleasure on his face when it emerged from the water, was wondrous to see.

"What'd you do that for?" Mildew said, as Snapper released the fish back into the river.

"I don't eat fish."

"Barmy."

"I fish for the thrill of the hunt, for the quiet of the river, and the peace it bestows upon my mind."

"That's all very fillysophical," Mildew said. "Me, I like to eat fish."

"Why don't you catch one then?"

"Ent got a rod."

"Here." Snapper stepped aside and motioned towards the rod.

"Cheers," Mildew said, and promptly caught a fish on it.

"Beginner's luck," Snapper said, crestfallen.

Mildew removed the hook from the fish's mouth, looked into its eyes for a moment, then put it back in the river.

Snapper gave her a questioning look.

"Too small," she mumbled. She turned to the others. "Gotta go. Meetin. Catch ya round." She went.

"Thanks for the pie," Slops said.

"You're going too?" Snapper said. After all his protestations he seemed oddly disappointed.

"We'll come back and visit you," Ward said.

"Hmmph. Well, take care."

"We will," Ward said.

"I mean that. I heard what happened. Wandering around in the Temple. What were you thinking?"

"I guess I wasn't."

Snapper frowned, but said nothing.

Ward and Slops collected Fidelma and Leif, they all said goodbye to Snapper, then they set off northwards around the edge of Snapper's Estate, followed at a distance by Grim. Carmen knew a shortcut across the fields to the Croakumshire Road, and took the lead. To their left the city emerged slowly into view around the edge of Xandra Wood. The sun was setting behind the wood, making it look dark and mysterious: a place of fear.

The rear of the Courts soon came into view. From this vantage point they could see the legendary Postern Gate, through which the accused were brought in armoured wagons to stand trial. It was two stories tall. Each of its close-set iron bars was as thick as one of Carmen's arms. Cruel spikes lined the top. It was said that the old kings and queens would mount the heads of traitors on those spikes.

To the east the fields were golden and lovely under the setting sun. The breeze coming in from the bay fanned out over the tall grass in symmetrical, winnowing patterns, making it whisper. Bugs leapt. Occasionally a lapp made a dash across the open, startled from its feeding by the approaching footsteps. Last night's rain had filled the ruts that criss-crossed the fields, and the three walkers had to detour constantly to avoid the mud.

They came upon a mob of walla. The walla watched them inquisitively, the big males standing up at the edge of the mob to show their height – the largest was taller than a man. Most of the females carried young in their pouches. Carmen was able to get close enough to see the breeze worrying at their thick fur before they loped off: first one, then three, then the whole mob, bouncing into the denser undergrowth, their great tails thumping against the ground. They did not go far, but stopped and turned their grey-black heads to observe the travellers again. Grim seemed indifferent to them. Carmen looked over at Ward. The boy was entranced. He had clearly never seen them before. They must have seemed like prehistoric animals to him. The others, accustomed to the sight, nevertheless stopped to watch them for a while. Carmen never got tired of seeing them.

It was Slops who broke the silence.

"Why were you asking Snapper about dice?"

Ward and Carmen looked at each other. Carmen shrugged. Slops was the most trustworthy – and credulous – person she knew. If they couldn't tell him they couldn't tell anyone. Besides, he might know something. He had known something about the Oliphant, after all. He had had it the whole time.

They were in a clearing where the walla had cropped the grass down to turf so short that it looked manicured. Ward did a quick turn about, checking that nobody was around. It was as good a place as any, Carmen thought. They would see and hear anyone coming from some distance.

"You have to promise not to tell anyone about this," Ward began.

"I promise," Slops said.

Then Ward told the same story he had told Carmen the day before. Carmen listened closely, as much to pick up any discrepancies between the two stories as anything else. She didn't find any. Ward was being uncharacteristically careful.

Slops's eyes widened from time to time, but he didn't interrupt. When Ward came to the part about the Assassin, Slops retreived Leif from his pocket and began to stroke the gillywig. As Ward neared the end of his story Carmen wondered what Slops's reaction would be. She suspected he would be frightened – that he would plead with them to forget all about the dice. But about this she was wrong.

For those who haven't worked out what a walla is (and consequently which country this story is set in), it's obviously a species of boa constrictor.