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her husband; the young herdsman, who I guessed to be around thirteen and their eldest son. The little girl’s age I put at six or seven, and the toddler at two or three; and of course, there was the old woman, whose age I couldn’t begin to guess. All of them gazed at me with polite curiosity while I ate.
    After I had finished and wiped my bowl with my fingers in the prescribed manner, my host addressed me in a formal tone.
    “My grandson Batu welcomes you into his dwelling,” the old woman translated. “He hopes you find it a place of peace.”
    “Batu.” I echoed his name. “Yes, thank you.”
    “Good.” The old woman took a noisy slurp of tea, fixing me with her sharp gaze. “Now tell me who in the name of the ancestors you might be, and what in the name of all the gods and the great blue sky you’re doing here.”
    I did my best.
    It wasn’t easy. There was far, far too much to explain, and I didn’t know how much of my tale might give offense. The Tatars and the Ch’in existed in an uneasy truce in the best of times, and I did not care to reveal myself as an Imperial favorite. So I simply told her that I had come from faraway Terre d’Ange, travelling to Ch’in to continue studying with my mentor, the venerable sage Master Lo Feng. That I had fallen in love with a fellow student, who had fled after our mentor’s death, venturing into Tatar territory to seek his father; and that I had set out in pursuit of him, driven by love.
    She listened, drinking salty tea and pausing from time to time to translate for the benefit of the others.
    Batu interjected a comment.
    The old woman’s wispy brows rose. “Huh! Was this young man carrying a powerful medicine?”
    “No… wait. Aye, mayhap.” I remembered the Camaeline snowdrop bulbs that Master Lo had transported all the way from Terre d’Ange. Only three of them had survived, and I had planted them atop White Jade Mountain, where the dragon had promised to guard and cherish them. The rest had been sacrificed, left to dry in the lodgings we had rented in Shuntian. When I had gone there to ask after Bao, the new tenants told me he had returned to retrieve the bulbs, which were capable of being rendered into a powerful aphrodisiac. “What manner of medicine, Grandmother?”
    The old woman cackled. “The kind of tonic to stiffen a man’s spear!”
    I flushed. “Ah… yes. That would likely be Bao. Although he might have been calling himself Shangun. I do not know.”
    She eyed me. “Lightning Stick?”
    I shrugged. “It is a name he took for himself when he was young and foolish.”
    The old woman conversed with Batu. Aided by her daughter, my hostess began to clear and scour our dishes. I waited.
    “Yes,” the old woman said at length. “My grandson has heard of your young man Bao. With his strong tonic, he bribed his way into General Arslan’s favor before the winter winds blew. It seems that General Arslan has claimed him as a son. Come spring, you ought to be able to find him.”
    I stood, so quickly it dizzied me. “Spring! I can’t wait that long.”
    My hostess hurried over to me, urging me to sit with gentle hands. She and her husband exchanged worried words.
    “Strange girl, you are not going anywhere for a very long time!” the old woman announced in an acerbic tone. “No one travels in winter. You barely survived a single storm. You would only die.”
    My
diadh-anam
flared within me. “I
need
to go!”
    The old woman sighed. “Oh, child! It only feels that way. Such is the nature of young love. It will pass.”
    “You don’t understand,” I whispered.
    Her wrinkled mouth pursed. “So they all say. I was young once, too. Young and beautiful. It fades, child. All beauty and passion does. Stay the winter here, and in the spring, the tribes will gather in the northwest. You will be reunited with your young man, and see how well his passion has endured. Perhaps you will be fortunate. If so, I say well done. If not, it is not worth