We danced until late, then those of us who remained sat around the fire and sang, and the Firelord told us stories. But he looked very tired and, soon after, everyone went home. I made up my bed and my lord’s, and helped Shimer into his. He was almost asleep on his feet, still singing croakily and rather worse for wine. While I bent over him, tucking his furs about his short neck, he reached up and hugged me, and said quite plainly: “You’ll make the two fires one, won’t you, Elsha? You’ll pull down the wall, and help the Quelled?”

I was stunned. I remembered what Teraj had said about Shimer sometimes saying prophetic things, and I glanced quickly across the room. Teraj was pouring wine, and had not heard.

Shimer’s arms drew me down, and he murmured wetly in my ear, “You will, Firewoman?”

“Hush,” I whispered, and hugged his neck. “Of course I will. But how do you know, Shimer?”

He smiled and rolled his eyes heavenwards, and would not say I kissed him good night, and he chortled with pleasure, and yelled at Teraj, “Her kisses aren’t horrible to me!”

When Shimer and the Firelord were asleep, Teraj and I sat by the fire together and shared a last cup of wine. He told me he had something for me, and got up and went into his sleeping place. I heard him open the carved wooden chest beside his bed, and I crossed the room and stood just inside his heavy curtains, watching him, curious. All was in shadow here, and smelled of furs and carved wood and candle-fire. He closed the chest and came to me, smiling, and gave me a carving slightly smaller than my hand.

I sat on the edge of the bed and turned the carving over and over in my hands, marvelling at it It was an animal I had never seen before, sleek and curved like a fat fish, but without scales or gills. It had a long slender snout, and a wide mouth that smiled. It was the most joyful-looking creature I had ever seen. “What is it?” I asked, laughing, delighted. “It’s beautiful!”

“It’s a mythical animal,” said Teraj, sitting down beside me, smiling at my pleasure. “A dolphin. It’s a carving my mother made. There are paintings of them in the books in the library at Kasimarra. My father saw them, and described them to my mother. The dolphins lived in great waters called seas, and were friendly to human beings, so the legends say. They were part of the warm-time.”

I stroked the animal with my finger, taking pleasure in its smooth and lovely lines. “You parents lived in the holy place at Kasimarra?” I asked.

“My father goes there occasionally, though my mother lived here. She carved the dolphin for me ten years ago, just before she died. It is all I have from her.”