He was leaning forward still, his eyes fastened on my face, his own face frowning and intent. “What changed the world, Elsha, to make it cold?”

“Men were evil, lord, and God regretted that he had created them. So he made death come out of the sky and shake the earth, and he smote his fist on the land, and covered it with dust and dark. And the light withdrew behind the darkness, and cold came.”

I blushed, suddenly self-conscious, thinking myself mad for talking so earnestly of fantasy. “They are only myths, lord,” I mumbled. “My father tells them to us, and our musicians sing of them.”

Amasai said nothing, but got up and threw more firestones on the fire. The flames spat and leapt, and I thought I had angered him. I asked, to placate him, “You have legends, lord?”

He sat down again, picked up his book, and unrolled it. He read for a while, and I thought he had forgotten me. Then he began reading aloud.

“These, Elsha, are the words of our great Prophet, Tharan: In the time at the beginning of the new world, there was found a race of people left over from the old. The people of this race were hidden in the earth, and were without minds or souls, and their hearts were dry like the dust from which they came. And God looked on that race, and saw that it was evil, and he called it Quelled. Then God saw the beasts that were left, and the great cold that afflicted them. And God called forth a new race that was wise and good, that would restore the world. He called the new race his Chosen ones, and they were highest of all, and had wisdom and knew all truth; and God gave them dominion over the birds and beasts, and over the secrets of hidden fire, and over the race called Quelled. And the Chosen shall rule for all time.”

I stared into the fire, and did not dare open my mouth.

“This is from our sacred writings,” he said. “What do you think of them, Elsha?”

The temptation was overwhelming, but still my lips were sealed.

He laughed softly, rolled up the book, and threw it onto his pile of belongings at the back of the cave. “Come, Elsha,” he said, “I know your tongue burns with words. Spit them out.”

I looked him straight in the eye and said, “Your prophet is a liar.”

The smile died on his face. Still I looked at him, though my palms grew wet with sweat, and my heart thundered. Slowly he smiled again, and I could have sworn that his eyes looked almost admiring.

“God help us,” he said. “I have found a firebrand.”

An icy wind blew into the cave, whirling up dust and ash, and making the flames dance. I shivered and pulled my robes close about me. Amasai went over to his scarlet travelling bag, and took a leather bottle out of a deep pocket in the side. He brought it over to the fire, uncorked it, and drank a few mouthfuls. He sat beside me, as close to the fire as he could get, and offered the bottle to me.