Teraj grinned. “You won’t learn through your nose, Elsha,” he said. “But if you want to read, I’ll teach you.”

He got up, lit a candle and placed it on the table. He took some paper and charcoal from a carved wooden box near his bed, and spread them out in the candlelight. Then he sat down, drew a chair close beside his, and told me to sit. I did, and he started writing on one of the sheets. I watched, conscious of his thigh pressed against mine, and the faint, pleasant smell of the leather vest he wore. His face was golden in the candlelight, his eyes translucent and shining, and calm like still waters. He finished writing, and glanced up at me.

“You’re supposed to be looking at the words, not me,” he smiled. I blushed and moved my chair away a bit, and studied what he’d done. He explained what the letters were, and the sounds they stood for.

Came the Firelord’s voice, across the dark and firelit room: “It’s the wrong one, Teraj.”

Teraj looked up. “I thought you were asleep, Abishai,” he said. It was a word he called the Firelord, but it was not the Firelord’s name. I did not know his name, until later. Only Teraj called him Abishai, and I think it was a special term of love between them.

“It’s as well I’m not asleep,” muttered my lord. “You’re teaching my handmaid the wrong language.”

Teraj frowned, got up, and went over to the Firelord. I saw him bend over him, stroking his forehead and cheeks, feeling his temperature. “You’re cold, Abishai,” he said softly. “Would you like me to heat the stones again, near your feet?”

“No. It’s more important that Elsha reads. Teach her our high language. Not the common one.”

“The high language? It’s twice as hard! And she’ll never use it. Our common tongue’s more like Quelled speech, it’ll be easier for her.”

My lord sighed and moved restlessly, as if in pain. Teraj stayed with him awhile until he slept, then came back to the table. “The high language it is,” he said, picking up the charcoal. “I have a feeling I’m going to regret this. I hope your brain likes exercise.”

“My brain can fly,” I said.

His smile grew, and he looked at me straight. “That’s good, Elsha. It’ll be able to fly all the way to Kasimarra and read the books in the great library there. You’ll read all the history of our world, and laugh and weep over the stupidity and glory of the Chosen race.”