Days passed, and Eirik immersed himself in village life while Ruefin convalesced. The fever had finally subsided, leaving the big man exhausted and weak. While he remained in Hataya’s care, Eirik elected to make himself useful in recompense for the generosity of these humble people.

  His size and strength proved to be a great asset and the farmers were delighted by the amount of water he could carry from the river to their irrigation channels. Back and forth he went, the pole across his shoulders flexing under the weight of the brimming pots at each end. He lost himself in the task and barely noticed the passing of the hours until the hottest part of the day. Then he would sit under the trees with the others to eat a both of broth-soaked grain and a chunk of freshly baked bread. Some of the villagers had a smattering of Galti and asked about his homeland. They were astonished at the idea of regular rainfall and wide bodies of open water. All attempts to explain the concept of snow and ice elicited laughter a disbelief. Eirik smiled, knowing that if he’d been told stories of Divarim and the Breskir-Hai before he’d left Solendura, he would have laughed too.

  The axes on his belt hadn’t escaped notice, and he offered them for inspection willingly. The weapons were passed around to the sound of wonder and a little envy. A young man Eirik knew as Damodar handed over his spear and passed a finger across the edge of the metal. He spoke no Galti but Eirik understood he was explaining how their bronze spear-tips were too soft to hold an edge like his axes. As he returned the spear and put his axes away, Eirik cast his mind back to the swords carried by the bandits at the water-hole. Although nothing like the quality he would expect of military weapons, the curved swords certainly weren’t local to this part of Divarim. So where had those men come from? Maybe Jabari’s theory was right.

  The soft golden light of sunset glimmered on the brimming irrigating channels, and Eirik was pleasantly tired. He rinsed off the dust of the day at the river and headed back to the village.

  Raised voices issued from Jabari’s hut and, although Eirik recognised both Jabari and Hataya, he didn’t understand what they were saying. Whatever the argument was about, it was both vehement and heated. With Hataya occupied, Eirik made for her hut to check in on Ruefin. For some reason the healer had been distant with him since their conversation on the first day. She hadn’t ignored or avoided him, but she’d certainly been less communicative lately.

  He ducked into the hut to be greeted by Ruefin sitting on the edge of hiis cot sipping from a cup of water.

  “Looking good my friend,” he said, gripping Ruefin’s forearm before dropping onto the stool by the hearth.

  “Ha! You should know I’m indestructible,” Ruefing replied, rolling his shoulder joint and flexing his arm.

  “Does it still hurt? You were in a real state when we got here,” Eirik eyed the bandage covering the injury.

  “Yeah, it’s sore, but I’ve lived with worse. How long have we been here? I’ve lost track of time.”

  “Tomorrow will make it a week.” Eirik grinned at Ruefin’s raised eyebrows. “You’ve slept through most of it.”

  “Well whatever weird herbs the lady has been plying me with, they’ve done one hell of a job. Where is she?”

  “Hataya? She’s having some kind of argument with Jabari, the Custodian. Not sure what it’s about.”

  “Is it us? Two armed strangers turning up in their village out of the blue must have worried them.” Ruefin ran a hand through his close-cropped hair and his gaze darted towards the door. “Where’s our kit? he said suddenly, his head snapping back to Eirik.

  “It’s all safe, don’t worry. And I don’t think the row is about us, at least, not in the way you mean.” Eirik paused, thinking his conversation with Hataya and how convinced she was that the two of them had been brought to the Yeshmari deliberately.

  “Look, something has changed here and - “ Eirik broke off as the curtain twitched aside and Hataya stomped through them, her green robes swirling about her. Without speaking, she took a flask from the mantel shelf and poured the contents into three cups, two of which she held out to her visitors. Eirik and Ruefin glanced at one another before taking the cups, nodding in thanks. Hataya drained hers in a gulp and poured a second before sitting heavily on her bed.

  “I needed that,” she said and let out a long sigh of exasperation.

  Eirik waited and sipped his drink carefully. He didn’t want to pry but was desperate to know what had transpired. As his gaze wandered, the statuette above the hearth caught his attention once more. Three stalks of grain, three fresh dates, and three cups of water surrounded the impassive wooden ape. If she didn’t want to talk about the argument, perhaps she would talk about the idol.

  “Hataya, who is this?” he asked, pointing at the figurine. “There was only one cup when we arrived, and now there are three. Who are you honouring with your offerings?”

  Hataya started as if surprised that he’d spoken and her gaze followed his finger.

  “That is Tsumaqui,” she said, “the Bringer of Water. It is our custom to offer him a cup of water and the gifts of the land to honour him. There are three because there are two extra people whom I consider to be under my protection.”

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  “Does everyone do this?”

  “They used to. Each household would make an offering for each person under their roof, recognising that they would not exist if it weren’t for Tsumaqui’s blessings.” Hataya’s voice had an edge to it, a hint of suppressed anger.

  “Used to? Why have they stopped?” Eirik suspected he knew the answer.

  “When the river began to dwindle it was decided that we should not waste what we had. Instead of trying to appease and thank Tsumaqui, the people disregarded him and went their own way. Now we struggle against the land instead of working with it, and in consequence our crops wither and the harvest dwindles with the river.” In a quick movement, Hataya tossed the dreg of her cup into the hearth, causing the embers to flare and spit.

  “Can anything be done?” Ruefin asked, scratching his beard. “Surely the villagers know they can’t survive without the river? Is it such a big problem to fill a cup out of respect? I know I’d do it if it was a matter of life and death.”

  Hataya gave him a grim smile and crossed the room to the hearth. She picked up the idol and cradled it in her hands, addressing her words to the carved simian features.

  “That time has passed, hasn’t it, old friend. You are far too angry to accept our offerings now. It would take an act of genuine obeisance for you to favour us once more.” She dipped a finger into one of the cups and anointed the figure before putting it back on the shelf.

  “Is that why you were arguing with Jabari?” Eirik asked.

  Hataya frowned at him.

  “I’m sorry, but I was passing his hut earlier and heard the shouting. I was afraid it was because of us and thought that maybe we should leave.” Eirik hung his head in the face of her stare.

  “You were part of it but not the cause,” she said, sitting back down. “I told Jabari that the time was right. I told him that the Court of the Winds brought you here to help, but he wouldn’t have it.” Her dark skin flushed darker and her eyes gleamed. Eirik would have sworn that a green light flickered in each pupil.

  “What is the Court of the Winds? I’ve heard you speak of it but I don’t understand what it is.

  “They are the spirits of the land, of Divarim. In the centre of the Breskir-Hai there is a place where the winds blows strongest. That is where they hold court and watch over their land and its people. It is they who sent the Sand Sprites to you in your time of trouble so that you might help us in ours. Jabari knows this, but still he will not ask you.”

  “ Why not? If Ruefin and I can help you, we’d do so gladly,” Eirik said, casting a quick glance at Ruefin and getting a brisk nod in return.

  “Of course we’ll help. I’d be dead if it wasn’t for those sparkling lights and your herbs and potions. Another couple of days and I’ll be ready for anything.”

  Ruefin raised his cup in salute and tossed it back in his usual manner. Hataya smiled indulgently as Ruefin coughed until his eyes streamed and his face turned purple. Eirik covered his face with his hands, partly in embarrassment but mostly to cover his laughter.

  One both of her guest had composed themselves, Hataya leaned forward, elbows on knees, and rested her chin on laced fingers.

  “Do not consider yourselves in our debt. It is our custom to help travellers in need and we expect nothing in exchange, but, if you are willing, I will gladly accept your aid.”

  “Consider us willing,” Eirik replied. “What do you need?”

  “I wish to make a journey,” Hataya said. She pointed at Eirik’s map and he handed it to her, intrigued. “Here, far to the southeast, the Shrine of Tsumaqui nestles in the mountains. I wish to travel to the shrine with a flask of water taken from what remains of our river. There I shall make amends for our people and beg for his forgiveness. The priests of the shrine can help me perform the offering and hopefully restore his blessing to the Yeshmari.”

  Eirik examined the map, noticing how the river seemed to lead to wind through scrub and forest towards the shrine.

  “It’s a fair way,” Eirik said at last. “I can see why you’d want help.”

  “That’s more or less the direction we were headed,” Ruefin remarked, “so it’s not like we’d be going out of our way.”

  “If it weren’t for the Umriah and their rapacious fortune-seekers, I could go alone. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself under normal circumstances. Times have changed and the roads are dangerous, and I’m old and wise enough to know my limits. Will you travel with me to the Shrine of Tsumaqui and help me restore the Yeshmari in his eyes?”

  Barely a moment passed before Eirik and Ruefin answered in tandem. A smile brightened Hataya’s face and her eyes glowed a brilliant green as tears began to fall.

  “It is rare that the Court acknowledges outlanders, but know that their eyes are upon you and their goodwill goes with you. Once you are fully recovered, we’ll go. Until then, eat heartily and rest well.”

  “What about Jabari? Won’t he be angry you asked us?” Eirik had no desire to go against the wishes of the Custodian.

  “He’ll be angry with me, not you. He also knows that the Greenwalker does not need his permission to do what is necessary. I will speak to him in the morning.”

  Hataya poured three more cups of spirit and they drank together, united in their purpose.