“They say,” he said, standing out of the doorway but facing me, so the light just fell on him, “they say that the Firelord treats you as a woman highest born, and that he talks to you as if you had a mind that equals his. They say you are a firebrand, that you defy authority and speak treason, and he does not reproach you. They say that he reproaches the Chosen if they chasten you, and that he once Quelled all the people in a town because they tried to poison you. Is that true?”

“In part,” I said, feeling over-warm. I went outside and leaned against the old stone wall of the house, facing him. “No one confessed, so he branded all the eldest sons.”

He whistled. “You must be a valued woman, to be so powerfully avenged.”

I smiled into my wine. Valued woman. The words pleased me.

“Valued harsha, I mean,” he added. He shot me another grin. “I forget. You’re supposed to have no mind, no emotions, no feelings, no soul. You’re not even supposed to be able to talk.” He sighed. “Ah, such is the unenlightenment of the Chosen that we cannot judge aright a simple slave. I’ll bet you judge us aright, handmaid. Tell me, what say you of me? As a person. Take away a cup or ten of wine Would you say I am unenlightened, ignorant, and witless?”

“I’d say your wits are very sharp,” I laughed, “to get out ‘unenlightenment’ without your wine affecting it.”

“I wouldn’t risk a second try,” he said. “By the way, have you a name?”

“My name is Elsha.”

“Elsha. Mine is Alejandro. And I did well to get that out too, through all the wine. But you haven’t answered me yet, Elsha. What think you of me? My brain, I mean. My body’s excellent, so the girls tell me. But my brain. That’s the thing that needs examining.”

“I think it is not totally devoid of light,” I said.

“Ah, I’m pleased to hear it, Elsha. I worry sometimes about my brain. I question things, you see. I have to know things, go into them, see them from all sides I worry me I worry my parents, too. They say I’ve got a dangerous soul, for a Chosen. You see–” He leaned towards me, close, his right hand on the stone beside my head, his left spilling wine all down my skirt “You see, Elsha, I don’t believe what I’m told about the Quelled. I think you’re humans like us, and not animals at all. You prove it, don’t you? You live with the high lord. You’re intelligent, well-spoken, fearless, honourable, high-souled, lovely, warm … oh God, Elsha. I’ll bet you’re warm.”