His face became blurred, and I saw the holy mountain, saw within the mountain, saw vast rooms, and rows and rows of pale scrolls. I saw pages unfurled, saw letters and the shapes of words, and ink, so much ink, heavy and tragic and black. And then, suddenly, an explosion of white light.

I blinked, half blinded by it, and when I looked again I saw Teraj watching me, his face searching, solemn and alarmed.

“You’d better start teaching me,” I said. “There are many books to read.”

He said nothing for a while, then slowly he smiled. “So my pupil is a prophetess,” he murmured. “I suppose you’ll end up living on the holy mountain, being seer and oracle, and setting men’s minds right.”

“Only if an oracle has the power to change the laws,” I said.

His right eyebrow rose. He looked faintly surprised, and amused. “You are an ambitious woman, Elsha.”

“I have a vision, that is all. A vision of a better life for the Quelled. And I will win that for them, no matter what the cost.”

“If you will be a lawmaker, Elsha, you will also need the power to divine. You will need to be Firelord.”

“I know.”

He shook his head, smiling, not really sure of me. His lips were curved, and very close. “I admire you, woman,” he whispered. I closed my eyes. I felt his breath on my face, and his lips brushed my forehead, my cheek. I heard his chair creak as he leaned forward, and felt his hand on the back of my neck, drawing me near, and his mouth moved over mine. Long, long he kissed me, and all the time his hand caressed my neck, my hair, and moved along my throat and down, and left a fire-trail there.

I felt an arm press along my back, and heard a hoarse chortle in my ear. I tore free, and my eyes flew open. Shimer leaned over us, his face a hand’s width from ours. He was hugging both of us, beaming, snorting with delight and love.

“I like kissing,” he said. “Give me one, Elsha.”

I collapsed in my chair, laughing, wanting to weep, to scream, dropped so fast out of tenderness it made me ache. “Go back to bed, Shimer,” said Teraj, chuckling, hugging Shimer’s neck and wrestling with him. “You don’t want a kiss from Elsha Her kisses are horrible.”

Shimer stood up, puzzled, only half convinced. “Why did you have one, then?”

“Because suffering is good for me. It shapes my soul, and makes me strong.”

“I want to be strong. I want to suffer.”

“Not that much, Shimer. Go back to bed and say your prayers, and thank God that she kissed me and not you.”