When I looked up again, the Firelord and all the crowd were gone. I could see them far in the distance, bright against the rocks and snow. It was the first time in all our divining days that I had not gone on with him to measure out the new mine, and set the exact place. Guilt rushed over me. Had I called aloud? Or only in my soul? And either way, had he heard? Did he know?

Never before had I helped him divine. In the past months I had often felt the power when he divined, but always I had closed my mind to it and shut it out. But today, today when he had laboured and anguished – today I had intervened. And I was terrified. I had overstepped my mark, committed the ultimate trespass, encroached on ground where I had no right to be. I had usurped his power, and had betrayed my lord.

Guilt-ridden, I went back to the town, to the great house where we stayed. I went up to my room and tore off the red divining dress. I put on the least lovely of all the clothes I had been given, the warmest and most practical. It was a dull brown dress woven of sheep wool, and I wore it sometimes on our journeys, when the way was hard and cold. The hem was already worn out from climbing jagged rocks, and there was a tear in one sleeve where Kallai’s claw had caught. I did not feel guilty keeping it. Into a large leather drawstring bag I packed two underdresses, a spare dress, an extra cloak, a pair of spare boots, and a towel to dry myself when I crossed rivers. I packed some flints, a good supply of firestones, and a heavy blanket. If I used his caves on the way, I should have enough provisions to survive. Siranjaro was only six days away.

I took Kallai from his perch, and he sat on the leather glove, alert and energetic, ready for a hunt. Finally, I took off the sacred sign I wore. I had polished it with fine sand, but still it bore the scratches I had made. I wished I could write him a message. Instead, I placed the sign on the floor outside his door, and left. On the way I passed through the kitchens, and took some cold meat and pies and bread left over from last night.

I was barely out of the shadow of the house when I heard someone call my name. I spun around, caught, red with guilt. It was Alejandro. He came sauntering towards me over the uneven ground, smiling, his boots ringing on the stones.

“Greetings, handmaid! Is the divining all finished, over so soon? Why is no one else back yet?”

My head spun. “I left early,” I said. “I was not feeling well.”