It was Sneal, a friend of mine, who told me this story. Sneal is a peddler, or wandering merchant if you wish to flatter him. Not that flattery will get you anywhere; there are few men with their heads more firmly screwed on than Sneal. Indeed you might wonder how he ended up as the friend of a poet, but that’s a different story for a different day.

Still, Sneal was making his way home from Avitas to Port Naain. Rather than follow the main roads, he’d taken minor roads to get to Avitas, stopping at isolated farms and hamlets, and was taking minor roads back. Again he intended to stop at those places off the beaten track that rarely see packmen. The whole story arises from the fact that he wasn’t familiar with the road, wandered too far to the west and ended up following a trail through wooded…