The Rule of the Lamp

Ilona wove in the evenings, when the road emptied. The traveller came in without knocking, set a copper lamp on the table and said:

“I have no coins. I pay for the blanket with this.”

The lamp burned without oil. Ilona looked at the flame, then at the woman.

“It has a rule,” the traveller said. “It goes out when someone lies in front of it. It lights again when someone tells the truth. That’s all.”

“And if one says nothing?”

“Then it waits.”

The traveller took the blanket and left. Ilona sat a long while before the flame. She thought: I owe nothing to anyone. The lamp went out.

She laughed, alone in the workshop, and said aloud: “I owe the miller money.” The flame returned.

---

By morning the village knew. People came to see the lamp the way they would go to see a rare animal. Each said a sentence, the lamp answered, and they left either humbler or lighter.

On the third evening a rider stopped at the window. He wore Lord Varek’s colours.

“My master comes tomorrow,” he said. “Have a price ready.”