Climbing up the stairs to the second floor, Belili had to use both hands to carry the heavy water bucket. Meaning well but not considering a girl’s strength, Saras had filled it almost to the brim, and inside the house, Belili had no opportunity to dump some of it. 

Knocking on the door at the top of the stairs, she waited to be allowed in. 

“A moment,” Tala’s voice called from inside. 

Placing the bucket on the ground, Belili rubbed her hands where the rope handle had left a red imprint. What do I do now? She thought desperately. Helping Tala to wash would take a lot of time. All the while master Jas’ar was waiting, his wounds untreated. Should I make up an excuse to leave and look for Zabu? But if he is out in the fields, it will take a lot of time to find him. Ninkar was already in a foul mood. If she caught Belili before she reached Zabu, the consequences would be severe. Few things were punished as harshly as disobedience – real or not. 

“Come in.”  

Without having come up with an idea, Belili hurried to pick up the bucket and opened the door. The room behind made up all of the first floor of the house. It contained Zabu’s and Tala’s bed, a long table where the two took most of their meals, a shrine, and a couple other pieces of furniture. 

It was the most richly furnished room in the estate. But now with the middle-aged woman standing alone at the shrine, it felt empty. And lonely, Belili thought, as always feeling the incorporeal weight of the room’s atmosphere settling down on her as she stepped through the door.

Some of the newer people on the estate envied Zabu’s wife's comfortable life surrounded by the treasures her husband picked up in town from time to time when the harvest had been particularly good. Belili didn’t agree.

She glanced to the room’s corner, separated off by a curtain. When Tala’s sons had still been alive, the whole family had lived up here, the children’s beds still standing hidden behind the fabric.

Without saying anything further, Tala walked to a dresser that held the oils for her skin and hair and waited for Belili to follow her. 

Belili placed the bucket on the ground and reached up to open the carved ebony clasp at Tala’s shoulder. Right before her hands touched the pin holding the dress together, she hesitated. I must risk it, she thought, swallowing. 

“Tala, may I speak with you?” she asked, lowering her head, and holding her breath. She had never addressed the woman in this manner before. Not even being around her husband or an angry Ninkar made her feel this intimidated.

“…yes?”

Looking up, Belili noticed that Tala was expectantly looking down at her and had probably already been doing so for a couple of heartbeats. 

Already in her late forties, her hair had started to grey but remarkably few wrinkles showed on the olive skin. Tall for a woman and slim her most striking feature was her narrow face and her clear eyes. 

“What is it, Belili?” Tala’s head was tilted ever so slightly, waiting for a response. There was no irritation, nor anger over having her routine interrupted. 

Belili gathered her courage. “There is an injured man not far from the estate. He says he is a magus.” The words came out in a rush, causing the older woman to raise her eyebrows. 

“Calm yourself,” she said, putting her hand lightly on Belili’s shoulder, seemingly paying no mind to the dust. “Tell me what happened. From the beginning.” Her soft voice stood in stark contrast to the strict expression she usually displayed. 

It took Belili quite a while to recount the events of the previous night. If she had had more time, she might have thought up an excuse, for why she had left the estate but put on the spot nothing came to mind. And so, she just told the truth.

When she was finally done, she anxiously watched Tala’s expression. Does she believe me? The uncertainty felt like a knot in her stomach. The thought of Master Jas’ar lying unconscious and dying next to the road wouldn’t leave her mind.

Tala had listened to her intently, her face unreadable. “You say this man, who calls himself a magus, carries a staff?”

“Yes,” Belili said, quickly. “It’s almost as long as he is and there are carvings on it.”

Tala nodded. Without another word she walked past Belili, heading for the shrine on the other side of the room. In front of it, she lowered her head, placed her hands on her chest, and spoke a prayer. 

Belili watched her nervously. She hoped Tala would allow her to go and talk to Zabu but she couldn’t press her any further.

“Urk be praised for the water,” Tala said, raising her head. She turned on the spot and headed for the door. As she walked, she pointed at the dresser behind Belili. “Bring my white shawl. The one with the stitching at the seams in the top drawer.” 

The order snapped the gapping Belili into action. She hurried to fetch the shawl, careful to touch it as little as possible so, as to not dirty the fabric. Does Tala intend to go herself? She thought. Since the death of her sons, she had rarely left her room and Belili couldn’t remember the last time she had left the house. 

“Here,” she said, as she caught up halfway down the stairs. Tala wrapped the piece of cloth loosely around her head and shoulders, never slowing down her brisk pace. Having much shorter legs, Belili had to hurry to keep up with her. 

At that moment the kitchen girl walked by the bottom of the stairs. When she saw Tala coming down seemingly dressed to leave the house, her eyes widened and she scurried back into the kitchen. 

Tala paid her no attention, leading them out the main entrance and across the yard. 

A fieldworker carrying a wooden shovel, stopped dead in his tracks and gapped as they crossed his path. 

“Where…where are you going?” called a breathless voice behind them. 

Looking over her shoulder, Belili saw Ninkar hurry after them. The big woman was almost running. This day is getting stranger and stranger, she thought.

Tala neither stopped nor looked back and now Belili could see where they were heading. The older woman was leading them to the guard’s shack. 

Motar and one of the younger men sat on the bench in front. Alarmed by Ninkar’s commotion, the veteran guard elbowed his comrade and rose. The younger man looked confused but hurried to imitate his senior. 

“Greetings Motar,” Tala said.

“Greetings Tala,” Motar said, bowing his head in reference. 

“My husband already left for Urk?”

“Aye,” Motar said, glancing from Tala to Belili to the heaving Ninkar who came to a halt behind them. “He left before first light with Tamu and the boy Saras. Wouldn’t take a guard again.” Motar shrugged. 

“Belili, here, told me that there is an injured man on the trail leading east into the hills,” Tala said. “Please, go and bring him back here.” 

“An injured man?” Motar said, his brows knitting. 

“Belili says he cannot walk very well, so you should take the donkey.” 

“Your husband took the donkey and the wagon,” Motar said. 

“Has anybody else seen this man?” Ninkar asked from behind. Taking half a step forward, she inserted herself between Tala and Belili, the latter having to take a side step to not be pushed away by the cook’s large frame. 

“Maybe we should send out a boy first?” Ninkar said, looking from Tala to Motar. “See if the girl told the truth.” 

Hearing that, Belili almost spoke up. They had already lost so much time while Master Jas’ar waited for her. But she was afraid. If she spoke up now, she would be going up against Ninkar and the cook would remember that. Desperate, she looked from one to the other but none of the adults paid any attention to her. 

Then she noticed the silence. It hadn’t been long – only two or three heartbeats – but in those Tala’s gaze never moved from Motar, ignoring the other woman standing next to her. 

“…we can take a wooden pole,” Motar said. “He can sit on it and hold on to the boys’ shoulders.”

“Belili, do you think the magus’ condition would allow for that?” Tala asked without looking her way.

Belili wasn’t exactly sure what Motar had in mind so she answered as best she could. “He was still standing upright when I left. But he had to lean heavily on his staff.” 

“We should hurry then,” Tala said, nodding to Motar. 

The veteran guard inclined his head and turned to his comrade. “Go get your useless brother of the shitter and find me one of the poles they use to hang up the laundry. I’m going ahead.” The younger man hurried off in the direction of the privies. 

“And make it a sturdy one,” Motar called after him. He shook his head and headed eastwards with the brisk stride of somebody who had been marching his whole life – but not before retrieving his spear with the gleaming bronze tip from the shack. 

“Ninkar,” Tala said, turning back towards the house. 

“Yes?” The cook's voice sounded unsure as she and Belili hurried to follow. 

“We will need bandages,” Tala said. “See what we still have in storage and cut some new ones if there is not enough. And bring all the medicines upstairs.”

“Upstairs?” Ninkar asked, her voice betraying that she wasn’t used to walking at this pace.

“From what Belili told me, our guest is most likely a magus.”

“A magus? Are we really sure the girl is telling the truth?”

Tala stopped and rounded on her. At her height, she almost stood a head taller than the cook. Her face was calm, but something about it gave Ninkar pause. “Has Belili ever lied?” 

“…to protect her brother maybe.” Ninkar sounded unsure.

“Has she ever been unreliable or negligent in her duties?”

Belili watched the exchange with wide eyes. The answer was no, but that didn’t mean that Ninkar would admit it. Being responsible for running the household, she could make up whatever she wanted. 

“…no,” Ninkar said, her shoulders slumping slightly under Tala’s strict eyes.

“Maybe the stranger lied to Belili,” Tala said, turning away from Ninkar. “We shall see when the men return. But should he truly be a magus, we have to be prepared to meet him with the utmost respect. I trust you will all work hard to not embarrass Zabu’s household.” With these words, she strode through the front door.

It took half an hour for Motar to return, jogging into the yard at a light trot. Belili, who had been sent out to fetch more water, followed him to the kitchen.

Also, it didn’t make sense, she was afraid. Afraid that they somehow hadn’t found master Jas’ar. 

When Motar stopped in the doorway looking around, she could feel her stomach clench. Now he is going to announce that I am a liar, she thought. 

“Motar.” Tala rose from the table. In front of her lay a selection of dried herbs she had been grinding in a stone mortar. 

“I went ahead when we were over the hill,” Motar said. “The others should be here in half an hour. He has an ugly wound on the leg. The cut is deep but he bound it well enough and none of the major blood carriers were cut. Looking at his eyes I would say he has a fever.” He gave his report without delay or emotion. 

“Good,” Tala said. “I am preparing herbs for the fever and to treat the wound. Have some water while we wait.” She gestured to Belili standing behind Motar. 

“Thank you,” the veteran guard said, stepping aside so Belili could pass through the doorway. 

“Is he a magus?” The question came from Ninkar who clearly had been holding it in the whole time. 

Motar’s eyes wandered from the twitchy cook to Tala. When Zabu’s wife said nothing, the guard scratched his beard. “I have met all kinds of people during my time traveling with the caravans. Based on that and what my gut tells me I would say yes, he is a magus. He carries a staff with symbols and he has the…” He stopped, lacking the words.

“Aura,” Tala said, after a moment.

“Yeah, that,” Motar said. “Stood there his leg bloody and with fever in his eyes and we still felt like he was ten feet tall.” The small almost imperceptible shiver that ran through the grim old veteran gave everybody present pause.

Tala was the first to break the silence. “When they arrive, have them bring our guest straight up to our room. Belili, fetch some fresh blankets.”

“Yes,” Belili said, handing Motar a water cup. While she ran out of the kitchen, Motar spoke up again.

“There is something else,” he said, worry now coloring his voice. “The wound – do we know who could do that to a magus?”