Chapters (33)
- Cover
- Elsha’s Fire
- Dedication
- Tribute to Elsha
- Foreword to 2019 edition
- Part One Firebrand
- 1 High Dreams
- 2 Dark Realities
- 3 My Calling
- 4 Fire on My Mind
- 5 My Strange Philosophy
- 6 The Firelord
- 7 A Friend
- 8 Divining
- 9 Earth-Force
- 10 Visions and Vows
- Part Two The Shining Star
- 11 Siranjaro Fire
- 12 Other Fires and Dreams
- 13 The Light in My Dark
- 14 Secret Powers
- 15 My Home, My Almost-Love
- 16 Gifts
- 17 Pain, Love and Destiny
- 18 High Road to Kasimarra
- 19 The Test
- 20 The Myth
- 21 Persuasions
- 22 The Battle
- 23 My Morning
- 24 Into the Light
- About the Author
- Publishing Details
They stared at me, their faces white, and I could not tell what they felt. I wondered whether they were deaf, they were so still, so silent. Then one of them broke ranks and stepped forward. He was an old man, tall and straight and with a face like stone, cold and relentless. He would not look at my face, but looked beyond me, at the air above my head. I looked straight at his, and saw that his mouth had a twisted, brutal look about it. When he spoke, his lips hardly moved.
“We know who you are, handmaid,” he said. “We have heard reports of you, and know that you speak fluently and have some measure of intelligence. We know that the high lord was pleased with you, for reasons we do not comprehend. We were expecting you, though not in this manner of arrival, nor wearing his robes. How did you come in?”
“Through the door at the top of the high road.”
There was murmuring again.
“That was a holy road, harsha, that you had no right to walk. And you have no right to wear those robes. We will make an announcement to the people of the Firelord, and then we will do what must be done.”
“You cannot put me to death,” I said, “without condemning every person needing fire. I came by the high road, and I wear this gown because I can divine and I am your new Firelord. He gave me this gown, and I believe I have his blessing.”
The priest spoke a word I did not understand – a word strong like an oath. The other priests murmured among themselves, shocked, then were silent again. From outside came the tumult of the crowds clamouring for the Firelord. I turned to go out and confront them, but there was a hiss of a sword whipped from its scabbard, and steel flashed in front of me. The priest pressed the blade flat against my chest, and forced me back.
“You do not understand, handmaid,” he said, still not meeting my eyes, his face set and inexorable. “I am Maelmor, the high priest. In these temple precincts, my word is law. Your word is not worth the breath you spend on it. The news you bring will have to be confirmed. And you will be tried, your divining ability tested to the furthest degree. Pray that we are satisfied.”