He was still laughing, chuckling quietly. “Elsha, Elsha, do not alarm me like that! I nearly died of shock. You did not divine for firestone. You divined for your woman-stone. The two things are totally different. Your woman-stone you carry with you always. It is imbued with your feelings, your beliefs, the very smell and sweat of your skin. It is only natural that with the minor intuitive power you have, you knew unconsciously where your woman-stone could be found. But that is not divining, Elsha. That is a very simple use of your natural gift of intuition. You haven’t divined for firestones, child. By God, if you divined for them, our whole world falls apart!”

He got up, went to the table where the cooking things were kept, and poured himself a cup of warm spiced wine. He brought one back for me as well, and sat with me while we drank. My hands shook, and I spilled my wine all down my dress. I longed with all my being to tell him all the truth. But I looked at him sitting there in the firelight, shaking his head at me and quietly laughing, and I could not.

Early the next morning we left Talbar. The Chosen wanted him to stay longer, wanted him to see the new mine, and stay and share a celebration feast with them, but he was cool to them, and eager to be gone. The whole town came out to farewell him, but the singing and music were subdued.

I had only a short time – too short – to go and say goodbye to the Quelled, and to Dannii. I came back to the Firelord in tears, and as we climbed the mountain road out of Talbar, rain fell. I walked a little way behind my lord, and noticed that his shoulders were stooped, his walk weary and slow, and he leaned on his donkey for support. He could not ride, with the flowing road so treacherous. Our boots squelched in the yellow mud, and water dripped off our hoods and streamed down our clothes. The way was steep, the rocks rising rugged and watery on either side. The rain stopped after a while, but all around us water dripped and trickled, and on the puddles, ice formed.

The Firelord walked more and more slowly, and I crossed the rain-washed track between us and peered anxiously into his face. “Are you well, lord?” I asked. “You seem tired. Worse than tired.”

He gave me a faint smile. “You read my soul, handmaid.”

I lowered my eyes. “Sorry, lord.”