A low wooden fence enclosed the village and Eirik guessed it was intended more for containing livestock than deterring attackers. A herd of long-eared goats nibbled at the shrubbery while tall, watchful hounds eyed the newcomers with suspicion. More people appeared clad in wide, loose trousers and long flowing tunics edged with embroidery. From the level of attention he and Ruefin had garnered, Eirik presumed that visitors were a rarity in these parts. A gaggle of children in bright yellow tunics stood at the entrance to a large round hut, their eyes wide as they stared. It dawned on him that they’d probably never seen a person with blond hair and blue eyes before, so he smiled and waved. The children grinned and waved back before giggling and running inside.

  A long green curtain hung across the door of the mud brick hut they now approached, a curtain that twitched aside as a short, older woman stepped out to greet them. Her tunic was a deep green as was the long strip wound around her head. Dark eyes set in a round, lined face looked them up and down. She folded her arms over her bosom and her gaze darted between the newcomers and their escort.

  “So tell me, Jabari, What has the Court of the Winds sent us this day?” He face crinkled at she smiled up at Eirik and he felt her brown eyes looking into him. The briefest of frowns wrinkled her forehead before vanishing.

  “Lost souls, Hataya, and one is in need of your skills,” Jabari replied, indicating Ruefin who could barely stay upright.

  Clearly not one to stand on ceremony, Hataya waved them inside and gestured at a low cot of woven reeds and fabric. Eirik deposited Ruefin and pulled aside the travelling robes to reveal the suppurating wound beneath. The smell had intensified and the skin surrounding the injury had taken on a greenish-black hue. Sweat coated Ruefin’s face and he made no protest when Hataya began removing his clothes.

  “Don’t worry,” Eirik said, squeezing Ruefin’s damp hand, “you’re going to be fine. You’ve survived worse than tthis.”

  “Heheh...It’s terrible the lengths I have to go to for a lady to start taking my clothes off,” Ruefin replied, chuckling despite the pain.

  “And what I wouldn’t give to undress a man who wasn’t already on his back,” Hataya replied, using Ruefin and Eirik’s native tongue.

  Eirik turned his head sharply, his face a blend of surprise and relief.

  “You speak our language well,” he said, watching her opening boxes of dried herbs and jars of sharply scented unguents.

  “The Court of the Winds is generous to those who follow their ways,” she replied, picking up a mortar and pestle and filling it with an assortment of powders and oils. “Now take yourself off and let me work. Your friend is safe with me, and the Custodian will want to speak with you.”

  “The Custodian?”

  “Jabari Sitamun, the man ho brought you to me. He’s the Custodian of the Yeshmari people. Go on now, you’re in my way.”

  With a final glance over his shoulder, Eirik pushed aside the curtain and stepped out into the sunlight. Waiting a few paces away was Jabari Sitamun. Now he wasn’t distracted, Eirik was able to give the Custodian his full attention and wasn’t surprised by what he saw.

  Jabari was older than he first thought. Strands of grey hair escaped the sides of his headscarf and the knuckles gripping the spear were bony and enlarged. His eyes were deep-set and kindly despite the serious set of his jaw. He pointed at a shaded wooden bench on the river-ward side of the village circle.

  “Come and sit,” he said and began walking without waiting for a reply. Cushions of multicoloured wool softened the hard wood seat, and Eirik realised how tired he was as soon as his backside touched them. A young man in a blue tunic and trousers cut off at the knee brought a tray bearing fresh dates and a jug with two cups. Hungry and thirsty as he was, Eirik waited until Jabari invited him to eat.

  “Please, help yourself. It is the custom of the Yeshmari to welcome those who come in peace.” Jabari poured from the metal jug and Eirik recognised the smell of coffee immediately.

  “I’m grateful, thank you,” Eirik said,, accepting the cup and sipping the strong dark brew, “and it’s a relief to be somewhere safe. Does your community live here permanently or do you travel?”

  “This is one of our seasonal settlements. There is a fruit we can only cultivate in this soil and we remain here until the crop is harvested. Then we return to the eastern mountains where our livestock raise their young. The Yeshmari have lived this way for generations.”

  “It sounds like a hard life,” Eirik said, savouring the sweetness of the dates.

  “It teaches us to appreciate the simple joys of life. A cool drink of water in the heat of the day. A story told over a meal at dusk. Things that men of the cities might overlook or take for granted are the things that add meaning and joy to our lives.” A faraway look came to Jabari’s eyes as he gazed at the village and the people going about their business. “You say you were attacked at a water-hole?”

  “Yes, by men who tried to extort money from us for drinking the water. We gave a good account of ourselves but we were outnumbered and Ruefin was wounded. We ran away.”

  Jabari turned aside and spat into the dirt, uttering a sharp word that Eirik guessed was an expletive.

  “Pigs. The water is given to all and never for money.” Jabari paused before turning to Eirik with furrowed brow. “How far west is this water-hole?”

  Eirik put his cup down and the extracted the map from his robes. Jabari leaned over and traced a line along the trade road towards a large settlement to the east.

  “What did they look like, these bandits?”

  “Hard to say – it was dark. Their clothes looked more like mine than yours.” Details escaped him but he remembered their weapons. “The swords they carried weren’t what I’m used to seeing. The blades were curved, maybe even barbed.”

  Jabari nodded slowly as if he’d heard of such weapons.

  “Were their robes a deep blue, like that of the night sky?”

  “Possibly, although I can’t swear it. It was dark. Sounds like you know them.”

  A long pause followed and Jabari drank his coffee with a worried look on his lined face.

  “There have been great changes to the east. Changes in the cities, changes in the land, and changes in the nature of men. New overlords wield power with merciless hands and their laws oppress those who do not swear fealty. We are luck to live in places they do not go, but hose who cannot move have no choice but to submit and suffer, or die.” Jabari turned his head towards the river, his eyes full of sadness. “Even the land suffers these day. The Yeshmari depend on the land, and if it dies, so do we.”

  Eirik followed Jabari’s gaze to where the water followed a narrow path along the middle of the rocky riverbed. Clearly it had once been much wider. An area of crops growing beside the river showed significant withering at the most distant point, as if the water level no longer supported the usual amount of produce.

  “Do you think the men who attacked us belong to one of the warlords you spoke of?” Eirik asked, struggling to put the pieces together.

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  “It is possible. Gold will buy more sword-arms and they will steal or kill to get it. This would be a long way to come just to waylay travellers though.”

  A closer look at the map showed that it would be many days travel to reach the eastern cities, and he couldn’t see the sense of a speculative raiding party coming this far. Something was missing.

  “Is the river normally so low at this time of year?” he asked, noting that Jabari was still watching the water.

  “No. Three years ago the waters filled their banks and flowed all the way to the Breskir-Hai. The fruit flourished on the vine and the grain grew tall and full. Then the Umriah came to power. Since that day, the blood of the land runs thin and its flesh withers.” Jabari turned from the river and his voice faded away.

  “The waters are failing because Tsumaqui is angry.”

  Eirik looked up to see Hataya Suvari standing before them, her feet squarely planted and her face stern. Jabari met her gaze briefly before looking away.

  “You turn your face from me as you turn from him,” she continued, taking a step forward, “and you allow our people to neglect their traditions. Why would he continue to bless us when we fail to acknowledge his blessings?”

  “You know we cannot spare the water, Hataya. There is barely enough strength in the river to fill the irrigation channels. We cannot afford to waste what we have.” Jabari held out his hands, pleading for her understanding, but she was having none of it.

  “Honouring he who sends the water is not a waste, and unless we appease this anger, there will be no water.”

  Jabari did not reply. Hataya’s expression softened as she addresses Eirik.

  “Come and see your friend,” she said, beckoning to him. “He’s comfortable enough and his wound will heal if he rests well.”

  Eirik stood up, took and step, then paused and faced Jabari.

  “Thank you for your hospitality,” he said with a bow, “especially since you already have so much on your shoulders.”

  “The Court of the Winds brought you to us for a reason. It is our honour to help you.”

  Confused by Jabari’s words and embarrassed at having witness and argument that was none of his business, Eirik followed Hataya back to her hut in silence.

  Once his eyes had adjusted to the shady hut interior, he gazed at the rough wooden shelves lining the walls that held the paraphernalia of an apothecary. Boxes and jars sat in ordered groups and, suspended from the shelves and the rafters above were assorted bunches of leaves, flowers and dates in varying states of preservation. A camel dung fire glowed in the narrow hearth beneath a metal dish where a sticky syrup bubbled and foamed. A small statuette on the mantel caught his eye. The size of his fist and roughly carved from dark wood, it appeared to be the image of an ape. With a heavy brow and deep-set eyes, the idol conveyed an air of intimidation surprising for something so rustic in nature. Next to the ape stood a simple earthenware cup half filled with water,, a single fresh date, and a bloom taken from the crop by the river.

  So many questions filled his head but it felt too soon to ask them. Instead he turned his attention to Ruefin’s freshly-washed form lying on the cot beneath a thin blanket. He knelt beside his friend’s head and inspected the clean bandage, immediately noticing that the smell of decay had been replaced by a light, clean scent. The discoloured skin still showed around the dressing but appeared a little less angry than before and Eirik was relieved that it hadn’t spread further. The speed at which the infection had spread was frightening, and he knew how lucky they were to have ended up where they did.

  “Don’t worry, he’ll heal quickly,” Hataya said, passing him a very small cup filled with a honey-coloured liquid, “he has the strength of a bull-camel.”

  Eirik sniffed at the cup’s contents and recoiled slightly before bracing himself and swallowing it.

  “He has the manners of a camel too,” he replied, tears prickling his eyes as his nose hairs felt like they were on fire, “and often the smell as well.”

  Hataya laughed heartily, her dark eyes sparkling as she downed the spirit with great vigour. She planted herself on a second cot along the opposite wall and waved him at a three-legged stool by the hearth.

  “So what are a pair of southern outlanders doing in Divarim. You’re not merchants as far as I can tell, so why did you come?” She crossed her legs at the ankles, rested her elbows on her knees and gazed at him expectantly.

  As briefly as he could, Eirik summarised his and Ruefin’s military background and their travels in Fenoria over the past few years. She listened enraptured as he described the sights and sounds that had surprised and delighted him, even though his original purpose had been the grim business of war.

  “We were heading east to pick up some work as hired swords. The stories of unrest have made their way as far as the coast, and we thought we could make some money out there.”

  Hataya’s eyes narrowed and the corners of her mouth turned down.

  “Who would you have fought for?” she asked, giving him a hard stare.

  Eirik shrugged and looked down at Ruefin sleeping peacefully.

  “No idea,” he admitted. “We’d have spent some time getting a feel for the situation and made up our minds once we knew what was going on.”

  “So it’s not just about money?”

  “We’re soldiers, and we risk our lives for gold, yes. But we’re not mindless butchers no matter what anyone else might think. I’ve seen enough atrocities not to want to participate in them, thank you. We still have morals, even if they’re greyer than yours.”

  The texture of her gaze changed and he saw a small nod of approval. For a brief instant he thought he saw a flicker of light on the beaten earth at her feet. Just a tiny glimmer of green light that immediately disappeared.

  “A man of truth as well as morals,” she said. Tiny pinpoints of green flashed in her eyes, then vanished.

  “What’s going on here?” he asked. A power of some kind flowed through this woman. What had Jabari called her? The Greenwalker? Perhaps she was more than a simple village healer.

  “I’m not certain yet,” Hataya replied, getting to her feet and stirring the sticky resin bubbling over the fire, “I need to think on it awhile. But I know the two of you did not come here by accident.” She straightened up and faced him, her eyes staring into him once more.

  “You are much more than you seem, and I believe you have a purpose here. Leave me be for now. Jabari will find a place for you to rest and your camels will be corralled with ours. Let me think.”

  Dismissed, Eirik moved the curtain aside and stepped outside. The sun was sinking fast and spirals of smoke rose from the first cooking fires of the evening. An air of calm embraced the village as the workers came back from tending their crops and the herders guided their goats back inside the outer fence.

  Eirik returned to the bench where he’d sat with Jabari and watched the Yeshmari going about their evening routine. Torn between a sense of safety and one of incredible loneliness, Eirik had never felt so out of control of his own life. He hoped Ruefin recovered quickly and they could go on their way.