My days passed with the changing of my bandages and long stretches of thought. Though my hosts insisted that I needed rest in order to heal, sitting idle felt like a kind of torment. When a man is left with nothing to do, his mind descends into its deepest chambers, and there it begins to ask its darkest questions.

  What, truly, was Whaley that had brought me here? Was my arrival mere coincidence, or the result of deliberate choice? Had I been given a purpose, or had the winds of chance simply swept me from the land I left behind to this entirely different place?

  The way my intelligent assistant, Siri, worked in such harmony with my mind made me wonder how far I might push its limits. Had I been living in a world where technology rivalled magic, I might have adapted far more easily. But this place was different. Here, everything was earned through labour, hardship, and time.

  My hosts rose with the first light of dawn, ate their breakfast in haste, and set about their tasks at once. In the cool of the morning, Daneel would chop wood, tend to the animals, and clean the byre.

  Arwa, meanwhile, cared for the vegetables in the garden, gathered plants to be dried for winter, and at times prepared remedies for the sick. Our days moved forward in a steady, unchanging rhythm.

  From time to time, Arwa received visitors from outside. The ill, weary travellers, or women about to give birth would seek counsel and treatment from Arwa, known as the Mother Healer.

  It was clear that Arwa was a skilled healer. I found myself curious about the mixtures she poured into small bottles for her patients, the herbs she dried, and the techniques she employed. In return for her treatment, she rarely accepted coin. Instead, she was given baskets of fruit, dried meats, or black-feathered waterfowl known for their rich, resonant calls.

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  Yet I did not wish to remain idle within such an order of things. While my hosts busied themselves with their duties, it sat ill with me to lounge about doing nothing.

  My own family had taught me that a man is free only through his labour. Now, being under the roof of such generous people, I felt I ought at least to do what I could.

  One morning, Arwa left to assist a village woman in childbirth. Only Daneel and I remained in the house. The old man had been occupied since dawn with chopping wood and tending to the animals.

  “Daneel,” I said, “I no longer wish to sit idle. I feel well enough and would like to find some work. Is there anything I might help with?”

  The old man considered my words. At first, he seemed reluctant to assign me any task, yet when he saw the resolve upon my face, he changed his mind.

  “Well then, lad, if you are set on doing something, there is a task suited to you,” Daneel said. “This house is built of adobe and has sheltered us for many years.

  “But adobe houses, like men, grow old and in time require repair. Holes have formed in our roof. Autumn has come, and the rains will soon begin. If we do not mend them, water will seep inside, and we shall not be able to keep our warmth.

  “As we repair the house, I shall show you how it is done. It would do you good to learn; you may one day have need of it.”

  “I have never repaired an adobe house before,” I replied, “but I am ready to learn from you.”

  “Good,” Daneel said. “To mend such a house, one must prepare a special mortar mixture. I must fetch the materials we require. Wait here. It may be colder outside than it appears—I shall return at once.”

  With that, he stepped outside, and I settled by the hearth to wait.

  In that moment, stirred by the curiosity awakened within me by this new knowledge, I realised once more how little I truly understood of this world.