The magus blinked, tilting his head. Her sudden question had clearly surprised him. “Why would you think that? Do you not see a wrinkled old man in front of you?”

“The night when we met,” Belili said, trying to order her thoughts around her sudden idea. “Master, you said I could hear the gods. That night I saw you in my dreams. I saw you fighting…and getting hurt.” Her eyes fell on the bandaged leg. Could gods be injured by mortal men? 

Fool, she chided herself. For a moment she had felt so sure. 

“Hm.” Master Jas’ar stroked his beard. “It is not an unplausible thought.” 

Belili’s eyes widened. “So, you are…”

“No,” the magus said, cutting her question off. “I am no god. Though it was indeed the divine that attracted your attention that night.” He reached to the side and picked up the staff that leaned against the wall at the head end of the cot. He held it horizontally in both hands as if weighing it. “That is what makes a magus.” 

“The staff?” Belili asked, confused. “You gave it to me when you sent me to call on Insu.” She immediately regretted bringing up her failure again.

“Not the staff. This.” He indicated the carvings on the upper end. “Each of these symbolizes a compact.” He slowly rolled the staff. For most the upper third of the wood would have looked ugly. There was no symmetry to the jumble of symbols. Shapes and styles and even the artistic effort spent on them varied wildly. 

Belili’s experience was different. Looking down at the staff, she could almost hear a whisper – a humming formed from dozens of voices. The more she focused, the louder it seemed to grow. It was slowly drowning out everything else around her, making her feel as if she was falling forward into something. Before she did, she caught herself. Shaking her head cleared away the whispering and brought Master Jas’ar’s voice back to the forefront. 

“I told you being a magus is about collecting,” he said running two fingers over the carvings. “Most of these I gathered myself. Some I inherited. It is the work of a lifetime. A lifetime of searching and learning and adventure.” He met her eyes. There was a twinkle to them that was almost mischievous. 

“…is this what I saw in my dream?” Belili asked carefully. 

The magus nodded. “When I was fighting off my pursuers, I was calling forth powers borrowed from almost half a dozen different deities. Right now, I can only speculate but I might have created a loud shining bonfire that caught your attention. We will have to learn more about your gift to know for sure.”

We? Belili thought, listening to the master’s explanation. Does that mean that he still intends to have me as an apprentice? 

“Master Jas’ar?” 

The loud voice from outside stopped Belili before she could ask another question. 

The magus gestured for her to go and see who was calling. Obediently, she rose and walked over to the door while Master Jas’ar ordered his appearance. 

On the other side of the door waited Gulan. The healer wasn’t alone though. Behind him stood several other men, most of them older and all of them looked important. 

“Belili.” Gulan smiled down at her. “I am here with Urk’s elders. Would you please ask Master Jas’ar if he can receive us? It is rather urgent.”

“Please, come in,” the magus called from behind. 

Belili quickly stepped aside and Gulan followed by a dozen other men shuffled through the door. There seemed to be some kind of order to it as the first looked the oldest – men with long white and grey beards – while the once in the back were closer to Gulan’s age. The last man in the procession stood apart from the rest. Instead of the wide garments the other elders seemed to favor, he wore a sturdy tunic leaving most of his legs and arms bare. His dusty clothes, shaggy black beard, and scarred arms gave him a rugged appearance.

When he walked past Belili he glanced down at her for a heartbeat and she vaguely recognized him but couldn’t remember right away where she had seen him before. 

“Master Jas’ar,” the healer said, “may I introduce the men that administrate Urk?” He proceeded to introduce about half of the men that filled the now very crowded room. When their name was called each man bowed his head and expressed how honored she was to meet the magus. 

Should I leave? Belili thought. Normally she would only stay in the room as long as it took to serve food and drinks. But this wasn’t Zabu’s farm and she didn’t know what her role was. Since she hadn’t been dismissed, she decided to stay in the back, making herself as invisible as possible. 

“Considering your injury, the elders council decided to come over here to see you,” Gulan said.

“That is very considerate of you,” master Jas’ar said. “Please.” He gestured for the men to sit.

Gulan helped one of the men – an elder by the name of Ibilsin who had been the first to be introduced – to lower himself on the stool closest to the magus’ cot. Seating was limited. Three older men claimed the other three stools and three more sat on the opposite cot. The rest had to stand. Gulan himself opted to stand next to the magus. 

“Honorable master,” Ibilsin said, “under normal circumstances, we would not dare to involve ourselves in the matters of magi but today the gods seem to give us no choice.” He paused, looking almost nervously to master Jas’ar. When the latter didn’t respond, Ibilsin cleared his throat. “This man,” he pointed at the rugged-looking man, standing a bit aside from the rest, “is Harbis. I was told you have met him on your journey here?”

Master Jas’ar nodded. “The chief of your guards. He organized a wagon for us before continuing his patrol.” 

“Master.” The man bowed.

Belili remembered the leader of the group of horsemen. She’d been too tired at the time to pay much attention to their faces but she recognized the voice – the irritation and impatience it carried. 

“After he left you behind, he ran into your attackers,” the elder said. “He lost half his men and horses and barely got away with his life.” From his tone, it was unclear if he considered the men or the horses the greater loss. “He says he saw more than a hundred enemies.”

A murmur went through the room. Some of the gathered men looked worried, others had raised their eyebrows doubtfully when the number of enemies was mentioned. 

Ibilsin turned half around and gave his fellow elders a disapproving glance. The noise subsided and he turned back to the magus. “We are here to seek your opinion.”

The magus placed his index finger over his lips, apparently taking a moment to contemplate his answer. “I was sure that there were not more than two dozen men following me from Naset-ka.” He met the guard chief’s eyes. “You say you saw over a hundred warriors?” 

“He says not all of them were Epi-khmet,” Ibilsin said. 

“Is this true?” the magus asked, not taking his eyes off Harbis.

The guard chief hesitated before answering but when the elder didn’t interrupt again he uncrossed his arms and straightened. “Yes. We found tracks around thirty people and followed them. They were on foot so we had no reason to worry.” Harbis stopped for a heartbeat, anger, and regret flickering across his expression. Then his eyes hardened again. “We ran straight into an ambush. Dozens of mountain bandits suddenly came down a hillside and two Epi-khmet chariots raced around the next curve in the road. We managed to get away from the bandits but the chariots almost followed us all the way back.”

“The charioteers brought down your men?” master Jas’ar asked, his expression giving nothing away. 

“Two fell to their arrows,” the chief said, reluctantly. “The other two took their horses and ran off. I guess they thought the enemy would hunt us back to town.” He shrugged. “They were right.” 

“The men you trained turned out to be cowards,” one of the younger men standing next to the other cot said.

Harbis gave him an angry stare. “I asked for solid men and good horses. You wanted cheap men and gave me barely any beasts. I have to go around and beg whenever we try to put a sizable patrol together.” 

“Epi-khmet charioteers are famous,” Gulan said, raising his hands. “They cannot be compared with the bands of thieves we usually have to deal with.” 

“Healer Gulan is right,” master Jas’ar said. “Trained warriors shooting arrows from the platform of a chariot is not something an inexperienced horseman with a club or a spear can face. It is to the chief’s credit that most of his men survived and made it back to warn us.”

Another murmur went through the room. Belili couldn’t tell if all the men accepted the magus’ view but none spoke out against it. Harbis frowned for a heartbeat but then went back to his scowl.  

“Be that as it may,” Ibilsin said. “Even Epi-khmet chariots cannot jump over walls. So, we should be safe until our messengers reach Saggab’s garrison in the north.”

“What about the farms further out?” one of the standing men asked. “We already lost Zabu.”

“There is nothing we can do to defend them,” an older man sitting on the cot said. “Who would we even send?” Several eyes turned to Harbis but the guard chief ignored them. 

Gulan raised his hand. “When we borrowed the cart, we also asked the owner to send word to the neighbors. The farmers further away from town keep in touch with each other precisely because of the danger from bandits and nomads.” 

Belili nodded to herself. Zabu received visitors from other farms from time to time or went out himself. Besides visiting Urk, it was how they received news. She had never visited any of the neighboring estates but some of the other servants had come from there for marriage. 

“I am afraid,” Master Jas’ar said slowly, “the situation is worse than you think.” He waited until the room had fallen silent. “I believe the Epi-khmet will use the bands of bandits they gathered to attack the town.”

The room stayed quiet for a couple of heartbeats before several men spoke up at the same time. 

“Impossible!”

“Bandits have not attacked Urk in decades!”

“They are just rabble! Runaway slaves and deserters from the army.”

“Silence!” Ibilsin raised his hand. “Master Jas’ar, even if Harbis’ guess about their numbers is correct, Urk has not been attacked since we built the wall. My fellow elders are right. Most of these bandits are just runaway slaves and cutthroats.” 

“Most armies are just common rabble guided by a core of elite warriors, are they not?” the magus said.

Ibilsin paused for a moment. Then he turned to Habris with a questioning look. 

The chief slowly nodded. 

“You always said that the scum would never make it over the wall,” a middle-aged man standing to the side said angrily. “Would they even risk it?” 

“Small bands would not,” Habris said darkly. “Bandits are not warriors; they lack the courage. They would not be willing to pay the price of storming a defended fortification. But if the Epi-khmet gathers up enough of them and drive them forward, that is a different story.”

“Can you hold them off?” Ibilsin asked.

“If you and the other merchants give me your guards to serve on the wall together with the townsfolk,” Habris looked around the room, meeting the gathered men’s eyes, “maybe. But it will be a bloody day. We lack trained bowmen and slingers, so the height of the wall is our only real advantage.”

“I know, you have warned us of this day often enough,” Ibilsin said. “I ask you to wait until we have overcome it before you lord it over us. We will of course reward you generously.”  

The guard chief acknowledged the head elder’s words with a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It would be better if this fight could be avoided.”

As on command, all eyes turned to the magus. To Belili the men looked nervous, even afraid, yet none seemed surprised by this turn in the conversation. Neither did Master Jas’ar.

The head elder spread his hands apologetically. “As I said, under normal circumstances we would never dare inquire into your affairs. But I… we believe that these Epi-khmet, leading an army of bandits here, are not really interested in our town. As you said yourself, they are following you.”

Belili glanced nervously around the room. The head elder was trying hard not to offend but his point was clear. The magus’ presence endangered their town, forcing them into a fight they didn’t want and they were desperately looking for a way out.

“The elders are of course sure your actions are blessed by the gods,” Gulan said, ignoring the slightly irritated glance from Ibilsin. “You are our honored guest. Still - many will ask why they must fight this fight. Why their homes are suddenly in danger?” 

As he stroked his beard, master Jas’ar’s face was unreadable, his eyes distant. After a couple of moments, he seemed to have come to a conclusion and pointed toward the other end of his cot. “Belili, please get my bag.”

“...yes!” A little startled, she hurried to comply. 

“I can do it,” Gulan said, stepping forward but the magus stopped him with a gesture.

Belili found the cloth bag pushed under the bed. Feeling all eyes in the room on her back she went down on her knees, reaching for it. It is heavy, she thought surprised. Had Master Jas’ar carried this the whole time despite his wound? Not big but sturdy it was sown as a sack that could be carried across the back or over the shoulder. Lifting it with both hands, she placed it on the cot. 

“There is a box wrapped in cloth in there,” the magus said. “Please, take it out.”  

Opening the bad, Belili saw a couple of minor personal items and pieces of clothing. When she pushed them aside, she found the object that had made the bag so heavy. It was as long as her forearm and half a hand high.

“Unwrap it, please,” the magus said.

Belili's hands shook a bit as she opened the knot. Nobody was speaking and she was sure she would have been able to hear the men behind her breathing, hadn’t her heart drummed so loud in her ears. It was worse than the time she had been questioned by Gulan at the campfire. Just ask nothing else of me, she thought. These people were the most important men of Urk and all their attention was on her. She wanted to retreat back into a corner as quickly as possible and be ignored.

As the scarf-like cloth fell away it revealed a box of dark brow wood decorated with carvings more intricate than anything she had seen before in Zabu’s or Gulan’s homes. For a moment she paused, admiring the beautiful craftsmanship. 

Master Jas’ar patted the cot next to him. “Here.”

Belili placed the box under his hand and stepped back. The magus murmured a single word under his breath while his fingers slid over the lid. Suddenly there was a noise vaguely sounding like a strong wind blowing past. Belili looked around to see where it had come from, and she wasn’t the only one.

“This is what the Epi-khmet seek,” Master Jas’ar said, drawing all eyes back to him and then to the now open box next to him. 

Everybody craned their necks. The old men sitting on the opposite cot leaned forward or rose slightly. Those standing in the back pushed forward to get a glimpse at the treasure the magus had brought into their town. 

Belili frowned. Standing on the other end of the cot she had a good view but she had no idea what she was seeing. The open lid revealed a row of black objects. The one closest to the magus had almost the size of a man’s fist. From there they became progressively smaller. Glancing around she noticed the furrowed brows of several elders.  I am not the only one, she thought.

“Lead weights?” 

It had been Gulan who had asked the question. 

“You have seen such before?” Ibilsin asked. 

“In Saggab,” the healer said. “The wise men I studied underused them to measure ingredients for their potions.” 

“Your healer is right,” master Jas’ar said to the room. “But these weights are rather special as they are used by a god to weigh the hearts of the dead.”