Had it been somewhat smaller, the house might have been called a cottage. The rooms, however, were large and there were many of them. The furnishings were rustic but well made, there were candles everywhere, and each scrupulously-clean fireplace had a cheery fire dancing on the grate. There was a long table in the central room and it was set with what could only be called a banquet. There was not a single soul in the house, however.

‘Do you like it?’ Flute asked them with an anxious expression.

‘It’s lovely,’ Ehlana exclaimed, impulsively embracing the little girl.

‘I’m awfully sorry,’ Flute apologized, ‘but I just couldn’t bring myself to offer you ham. I know you Elenes all love it, but –’ She shuddered.

‘I think we can make do with what’s here, Flute,’ Kalten said, surveying the table with his eyes alight, ‘don’t you, Platime?’

The fat thief was looking almost reverently at all the food. ‘Oh, my goodness yes, Kalten,’ he agreed enthusiastically. ‘This’ll be just fine.’

They all ate more than was really good for them, and sat afterwards, sighing with that most pleasant of discomforts.

Berit came around the table and leaned over Sparhawk’s shoulder. ‘She’s doing it again, Sparhawk,’ the young knight murmured.

‘Doing what?’

‘The fires have been burning ever since we got here, and they still don’t need any more wood, and the candles aren’t even melting down.’

‘It’s her house, I suppose,’ Sparhawk shrugged.

‘I know, but –’ Berit looked uncomfortable. ‘It’s unnatural,’ he said finally.

‘Berit,’ Sparhawk pointed out with a gentle smile, ‘we just rode through an impossible landscape to reach a house that isn’t really here to eat a banquet that nobody prepared, and you’re going to worry about a few little things like perpetually burning candles and fireplaces that don’t need wood?’

Berit laughed and went back to his chair.

The Child-Goddess took her duties as hostess very seriously. She even seemed anxious as she escorted them to their rooms and carefully explained a number of things that did not really need to be explained.

‘She’s such a dear little thing, isn’t she?’ Ehlana said to Sparhawk when they were alone. ‘She seems so desperately concerned about the comfort and well-being of her guests.’

‘Styrics are a bit more casual about these things,’ Sparhawk explained. ‘Flute’s not really used to Elenes, and we make her nervous.’ He smiled. ‘She’s trying very, very hard to make a good impression.’

‘But she’s a Goddess.’

‘She still gets nervous.’

‘Is it my imagination, or is she a great deal like our own Danae?’

‘All little girls are similar, I suppose,’ he replied carefully, ‘just like all little boys.’