The freckled girl turned around, crouching and reaching towards the hilt of a dagger hanging from her belt. Her hand was shaking so much, however, that Elencza didn’t believe she’d be capable of drawing the weapon. Elencza snatched up a stone, determined to sell her life—or whatever she would have to sell—dearly. But that day, it turned out, was one of ceaseless astonishments and surprises. For along the winding, steep, rocky path leading to the top of Radunia came a third girl. She also froze at the sight of the other two.

She looked the youngest of them all. Her face, her features and the colour of her hair all reminded Elencza of somebody, triggering anxiety in her. It was a vague and inexplicable feeling, making it all the more worrying.

“Well, well,” said the freckled girl, recovering her composure at once and standing with arms akimbo. “What has brought you here, you minx? And all alone, at that. Don’t you know it can be dangerous here?”

Elencza fought to stifle a snort. If the new arrival was younger than the freckled girl, it wasn’t by much. But she was certainty taller. There wasn’t a trace of fear or even embarrassment on her face. Her face, thought Elencza, surprised by the thought, is older than she is.

“I swear,” said Elencza, “that we’ve all come here with the same intention. And since that intention is at the very top, we ought to make haste, otherwise we won’t get back before dusk. Come on, girls. Follow me.”

The freckled girl made a face, as though she was about to snort. But, ah well, every group must have a leader. And Elencza was the tallest. And who knew, perhaps the oldest.

“My name’s Ofka… Euphemia of Baruth,” said the freckled girl proudly. “The daughter of Sir Henryk Baruth of Studzisko. With whom do I have the honour of speaking?”

“Elencza… of Wirsing.”

The new arrival lowered her eyes when they turned to look at her. She didn’t answer for a long time.

“You may call me Electra,” she finally said quietly.

The elongated peak of Radunia was ringed by a stone embankment encircling a large boulder, a monolith resembling a catafalque. None of the three girls could have known it, but the monolith had been lying on the mountain when mammoths strode over the Sudeckie Hills and huge tortoises laid their eggs on the island of Piasek in the Odra, which was now a busy and densely built-up part of the great city of Wrocław.

At the foot of the monolith burned a campfire, its flames licking the bottom of a sooty cauldron spitting boiling water. Nearby, on a heap of skulls, lay a black cat, in a typically indolent, feline pose. It was busy licking its fur. It was the laziest licking Elencza had ever seen in her life.

Around the fire were sat three women.