…Naya wished someone would light a fire under Agrat. She imagined flames wreathing the bottom of his robe, balls of fire on the tassels at his hem and belt and the corners of his sleeves. The picture grew clear in her mind.

Agrat shrieked at the same moment Naya smelled smoke. Eshrell gasped. Naya turned and saw Agrat, paralyzed in the middle of the room. Fire licked at the hem of his robe and the decorative tassels bloomed like gold and scarlet flowers.

Naya snatched up a pitcher of watered wine and flung the contents at Agrat. Most of it doused his face and chest. The flames flickered, threatened to die, then burned white and hotter. Naya reached blindly for the milk and doused Agrat, aiming lower.

I did this!

Agrat looked exactly as she had imagined him. She pushed down the shrieking eunuch and stomped on the persistent flames with her sandal-shod feet while her mother called for help.

“Stop!” she finally shrieked, and focused all her frustration and amazement at the flames.