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near the foundations of the vanished farmhouse.
    Once the supplies were in place, I pushed Chowdry aside and began to do the cooking myself. That was one of the few undiluted gifts of my childhood training. I was able to do far too little of it. What I made was not even stew, for we had no stock and no time to prepare it. Rather I heated a piece of old iron on our little fire, smeared it with squirrel fat and the juice of several onion stalks, then fried the squirrel meat together with the peaches, seasoned nicely enough in the Stone Coast fashion.
    Even such primitive cookery was a pleasure. I was glad enough of the good food, and even more glad of the company. Otherwise this would have been the first night I had spent completely alone since arriving at Ilona’s cottage these months past.
    As we cracked the bones in our teeth, I turned my thoughts to what lay ahead. “Tell me more of why Endurance wishes me back in Copper Downs.”
    â€œYou are already saying how the god has no words.” He toyed with a squirrel thigh, picking seared meat from the bone and flicking the bits into his mouth as he watched me for a reaction.
    â€œWell, yes. A mute god seemed … safer.”
    â€œI am not to be saying you are wrong. Still, this makes troubles.”
    â€œYou never meant to be a priest,” I offered.
    That made him laugh. “I am never being a priest. I am servant to a god. Others dance in robes and light incense and make up new books of ancient ceremony. I do what Endurance asks of me.” He paused, his mirth falling away. “Demands of me.”
    I allowed my voice to soften. “In what manner does the god compel you?” I had already enjoyed far too much experience of divine influence in my own life. Though I only suspected it then, more was all too definitely to follow.
    â€œDreams,” Chowdry said slowly. “Pictures. Thoughts without words. So I know that such a thing should be done, without it being said. This is not like Utavi ordering a sail to be reefed back aboard Chittachai . Or you, pushing me where I would never be going of my own.”
    â€œDo you dream with Endurance in Seliu?”
    He gave me an odd look. “There are no words, I am already telling you.”
    Somehow this became very important to me. “But where are you in dreams? In a field under our hot sun?” My father’s paddies, where Endurance the ox had lived and died. “Or on the cold streets of Copper Downs?” This northern city was a strange place for any Selistani.
    Almost helplessly, he replied, “I am with the god.”
    Having stood far too close to Blackblood for the comfort of any sane person, and been called by the Lily Goddess, I could take his meaning. Gods happened in a place where the everyday world was an incidental detail. As if one could see and hear everything . Which, while possible for the divine, was very difficult for the merely human. As an ant might be confused to view the world as seen from a person’s eyes.
    â€œI understand,” I told him, patting my silk, which awaited this evening’s sewing of the bell.
    Gratitude flashed across Chowdry’s face. “So you see, I cannot be saying exactly what the god wishes of you. Only that the god wishes you to return to his domain.”
    â€œIs he afraid?”
    That provoked a thoughtful silence. Finally: “That I cannot say either.”
    I let the matter drop then, and tucked into the last of my fried squirrel with peaches. I had eaten far worse.
    *   *   *
    Two days later we arrived at the place I’d had in mind on choosing this difficult path back to the city. The last of the inland hills petered out several miles from my goal. They terminated in a final upthrust knee of rock, soil, and trees from where I’d observed the condition of Copper Downs under occupation at the time I’d previously made this journey.
    I wanted that hawk’s-eye view