Wriggling around a knob of layered granite glinting with mica, Tiaan saw a light ahead. An old man sat in an egg-shaped space, his lantern, pick and hammer beside him.

'Joe!' she yelled. 'I've found you at last.'

'Didn't know I was lost,' grinned the miner, climbing to his feet with many a groan and a clicking of aged joints. Joeyn was a small, wizened, skinny man, at least seventy, with a long sharp face and skin impregnated with mine dust. He was Tiaan's only true friend. He gave her a hug that made her ribs creak.

They sat down together. Joe offered her a swig from his bottle but Tiaan knew better than to accept. Distilled from fermented turnips and parsnips, the spirit was strong enough to knock out a bear.

'Have you eaten today, Tiaan?'

'Only a crust.'

He passed her a cloth-wrapped bundle, inside which she found three baked sweet potatoes, a boiled egg, a stalk of celery and a ball of sticky rice flavoured with wild saffron and pieces of mountain date. Her mouth watered. She was usually too busy to eat.

Tiaan selected the smallest of the sweet potatoes. 'Are you sure it's all right?'

'Stand up, Tiaan. Let me look you over.'

She did so, potato in hand. Tiaan was average in height but slender. She had jet-black hair, raggedly hacked off halfway down her neck, almond-shaped eyes of a deep purple-brown, a broad, thoughtful brow and a small though full-lipped mouth. Her skin was like freshly rubbed amber, her eyes a darker shade. She had long-fingered, elegant hands, which she liked, and large feet, which she did not.