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her jerky and took another bite as if nothing had happened. She knew the crowd followed her, but refused to acknowledge their fear.
    Johnston watched her without speaking, thinking of Layla Birdsong’s grandfather, George Begay, and how proud he would have been of this child. She had her grandfather’s visions and her mother’s magic. He hoped he lived long enough to see what she did with it, and if it would make enough difference in their world to keep it from dying all over again.
    “How did you make this blade?” Tyhen asked as she picked up a long knife near the edge of the table. Its shape was unlike the kind the warriors of Naaki Chava carried. It was wider at the hasp and came to a long point at the end.
    “I traded for some pieces of metal a few months ago.”
    “Is this something from your time?” she asked.
    “In our time the metal would have been harder and sharper. It was called steel, but this is good enough.”
    She felt of the edge of the blade again, then set it aside.
    “It is a fine knife,” she said softly. “If it is agreeable, I would trade three pots of honey for it.”
    “I would be honored,” he said.
    “I will send it to you before sundown today.”
    “I will bring the honey,” Yuma offered.
    Johnston nodded, picked up a leather scabbard, slipped the knife inside, and handed it to Tyhen.
    Satisfied with her trade, she had the weapon in one hand and her jerky in the other.
    “Now can we go?” Yuma whispered.
    She turned to the crowd and held up her jerky. “This is good,” she said, bit off another bite, and walked away with Acat and the guards behind them.
    Yuma was still worrying about how to tell her about the upcoming confrontation with the priests when Tyhen tore off a piece of the jerky and gave it to him without speaking.
    He popped it in his mouth. As he began to chew, it reminded him of the jerky he and his father used to make with their first deer of the season. He was still thinking about his father when Tyhen’s steps began to slow.
    “I know about the shamans,” she said. “I saw them coming in my sleep last night.”
    He relaxed. Again, he should have known.
    “How does it make you feel?” he asked, then saw her dark eyes flash.
    “It makes me angry. They come to challenge me, to test me. They expect me to perform tricks like one of the monkeys in the marketplace. I am no monkey and I do not do tricks.”
    “So what are you going to do?” he asked.
    “Show them what Firewalker did.”
    He stumbled and then quickly caught himself. “But how? You weren’t there.”
    “But I was. I was in my mother’s belly when she ran back to save you. I saw the world on fire.”
    The hair rose on the back of Yuma’s neck. “I had no idea.”
    “No one does, but now you know, and soon they will, too.”
    “Can you do that?”
    She nodded. “All I have to do is think it and then put it in their heads.”
    Yuma felt like he should drop and kneel. Such power was beyond his comprehension, and the moment he thought it, she glanced up at him.
    “Don’t ever do that,” she said.
    He frowned. “Do what?”
    Her voice was shaking. “You do not kneel to me. I am no god, and one day I will be your woman.”
    They were near the palace when Yuma motioned for the guards to stand back. Then took her by the hand and walked a short distance away.
    “We have yet to make love, but you are already mine.”
    Her heart skipped a beat as she saw his face and then quickly looked away. Passion was still unsettling. She didn’t know how to reconcile her feelings with the blood rushing through her body. The power of what she felt for him was frightening, and she wondered if when they finally made love, she would burn up in the heat.
    He slipped a hand beneath her hair and pulled her to him.
    “Fear not, my little whirlwind. Nothing happens until you’re ready.”
    She laid her cheek against his bare chest and closed her eyes. She knew his scent as well as she knew her own