Wild grey-streaked hair, a dark beard, pale eyes in a dirty face, bundled in heaps of ragged sand-coloured wool against weather he has plainly been out in a long while. He sells shells and pearls. Dirdenach looked at him once and called him, simply, “the spy”.

Nobody dressed like that has been near the sea lately. Whose eyes is Dafydd, and why did the wizard bother to point him out to strangers?