“I know there will be difficulties. When you are travelling alone with me in the mountains, it will be necessary for you to handle my bowls and cups and prepare my food, and to wash my garments. You are permitted to speak with me at any time, unless I am speaking with a Chosen, and then you may not interrupt, even though you are my handmaid. At all times you will wear my sacred sign, and will be permitted to speak with the Chosen when necessary. At no time will you look in the face of a Chosen, or be in any way disobedient, arrogant or defiant. Being my handmaid does not lessen your being Quelled in the smallest degree. Do you understand these things?”

I shook my head. “Lord, I am confused,” I said. “I’m sorry. You say there are laws that must not be violated, and times when they will have to be broken. Lord, wouldn’t it be easier if I didn’t remain Quelled?”

“It is not a question of remaining Quelled, harsha. You are Quelled. You bear the mark of the Quelled on your forehead. There is no skill, no power on earth can take that mark away. I cannot suddenly declare you Chosen. You are Quelled. I cannot change that. I can only, in special circumstances, suspend our laws, and make life as easy for you as I can.”

He lowered his voice, and added gently: “I know your nature, Elsha. It grieves me that you must remain Quelled, alone in a world that despises you. But there is nothing I can do about that Yet.”

Not all of it despises me, I thought thankfully, remembering Amasai.

“Amasai confessed that he has broken all the laws,” the Firelord went on, and I was so startled, I looked at his face. It was very grave, and his eyes burned through me. I dropped my gaze again, and felt guilty and afraid.

“Amasai was deeply shocked to find that you were Quelled. Others, too, will be shocked, but they will not be so sympathetic. We have a long fight ahead of us, handmaid. While we are guests in this house you will learn from the women here all the duties that you will perform. In thirty days, we will leave for the mine of Talbar, across the western range. Ask the women of this house anything you need to know.”

“Yes, high lord.”

“You may go.”

“High lord … may I ask you something?”

“You are permitted to ask anything of me, handmaid.”

“High lord, why is it that no Chosen will look on my face, but you do?”

“The Chosen believe that to look on your face is to risk defiling their souls.”

“But you take that risk, lord?”

He hesitated. When he did speak, his voice was rich and warm, and I could have sworn he smiled. “My soul is strong, handmaid, and cannot be defiled.”

I half smiled mysel. “My soul, too, is strong,” I said.