It was dark when we returned to the house. I was too late to cook my lord a raven; the men’s meal was already in progress. Just outside the door of the great hall, Alejandro and I parted. In the shadows he took my chin in his hand, and caressed my lips with his thumb, gently. But he did not kiss me. “I have loved this day, Elsha,” he said. “Never have I talked like that with anyone. Hold my secrets close, won’t you?”

“Have no fear,” I said. “It gives me strength to have a friend.”

“You need strength then?”

I nodded. He smiled, then turned quickly and went inside into the noise and feasting-smells and light. The men had almost finished eating, and I could hear music again. I was glad the Firelord would be occupied and in company. I picked up my bag, went to the kitchens, and left the ravens Kallai had caught. I went up to my room, panting with my heavy bag on all the flights of stairs. I had gone soft since I had left the mine.

The house was silent on the upper floors. I pushed open my heavy door, but before I went in, I glanced at the floor outside my high lord’s door. The scratched sign was gone. So he knew. I swore softly, and went into my room. It was in darkness, and smelled faintly of ancient carpets, polished wood, and smoke. I could barely see. I dropped my bag on the wide hearth, and felt in its depths for the flints and firestones. I lit the fire, and knelt in front of it awhile, dreaming of Siranjaro. I tried not to think of Lesharo. I had betrayed more than one man this day.

After a while the fire blazed, and I took a dead torch from its bracket on the wall, dipped it in the flames, and put it up again. The room was warm with fire-glow, and the shadows danced. I heard a soft sound, and looked up. The Firelord stood over by my window. I was shocked, crushed anew by guilt, and could not speak. He came over by the fire, and I saw that he still wore his divining clothes, though the hood was pushed back. His face was tawny and dark, and the firelight flashed in his eyes and turned them coppery. He did not sit, but stood there, silent, overshadowing, and black.

“For the first time, you have displeased me,” he said, his voice hollow and deep and almost inaudible. “I ache in my soul, Elsha.”

I stared at the fire, hardly breathing, seeing only a man bowed over in the divining ground, suffering. “I am sorry, lord,” I said.