The wind tore across the snowy waste between us, and I lost his answer. I shivered and pushed my frozen hands high into my sleeves. I was unbearably tired, and my body felt like stone. My mind began to wander again, and other voices called in the gale. I wanted to fall into the snow, and sleep.

“Warmth is a state of mind, Elsha,” he said.

“I know,” I said, yawning. “I heard Teraj tell the Firelord. My lord was his father. They looked alike, come to think of it.”

“Warmth is a state of mind.”

“I know. I warmed the Firelord when he was cold.”

“A state of mind.”

It struck me, then. It was so simple, so clear, I laughed. The shock of my laugh jerked me back into awareness. “Are you saying,” I said, “that if I think about it hard enough, I can make myself warm?”

He did not answer, and at that moment a snowy squall hit us, and the force of it knocked me over. When I recovered, the vision had gone. I stumbled forward through the snow, and looked all around for his footprints. There were none. But his presence remained, and his words.

I closed my eyes and sang the Quelled myth about the fire at the heart of the dawn. I imagined fire, a sky full of fire, and the air warm. I imagined the fire inside myself, flowing in my heart, my veins, my lungs and body and limbs. I thought of firestone power, racing and warm within, ringing, singing, blazing in me, flaming in me. I thought of Teraj, of all his love lifting me, setting me alight.

I opened my eyes and looked down at my hands, and saw that the black was changing, and in parts my skin was almost pink again. I laughed, and lifted my arms, and saw steam rising from my wet sleeves. I looked down, and saw that the snow had melted about my feet, and my foot without its boot was almost the normal colour. And all my body was warm – warm, as if I had a fire inside.

I shook my head, thinking I was seeing visions again, and walked on through the snow. I came to a flat place, all white, and brushed the snow off the stones on the side of it. I discovered that they were carved with travellers’ prayers, and knew that I had found the road again.

A long, hard road it was, but I was warm inside and out, and the terrible weariness and despair that had crushed me before were gone now. Gone, too, was the blackness in my hands and feet, and strangely it did not return. I thought of the man I had seen, and the memory gave me peace. With the peace came a purpose.