Leaving the workroom Belili ran into Gulan.

“…are you coming?” he asked after a moment’s hesitation.

“Yes,” she said. Had he come back for her or had he been there right outside the workroom the whole time? Since we met him, he has been nothing but kind to us, she thought. I was even allowed to eat at his table. Still, she couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable around the healer.

They entered the kitchen where Saras tried to convince Shala to return his sword to him.

“I know you want to help with the defense,” she said, laying her hand on his shoulder. “And that is very admirable of you but you are not a trained warrior. You should stay here and take care of your sister.”

“But…” Saras grimaced. He clearly had a hard time arguing with the healer’s wife. Seeing the man of the house coming in he gave him a pleading look.

Gulan smiled. “I am going to the wall to see what is going on out there.”

For a moment an expression of worry flickered over Shala’s face. “I will fetch your cloak. It is already afternoon and I am sure the elders will want to talk about whatever caused the commotion out there.” When she stepped past him, he slightly squeezed her hand.

“She always worries,” he murmured, looking after his wife. “Whenever I go to visit the farms further away from Urk, she worries.”

“Gulan, I…master Jas’ar said I should go with you to see what is going on,” Belili said.

The healer raised his eyebrows and she instinctively lowered her eyes. It was hard. What do I do if he says no? He is a very important man. Will the other elders even accept a slave girl as the magus’ representative?

“What?” Saras burst out. “But you are much younger than I.”

Belili didn’t look at him. On the farm, Saras’ temper and lacking manners earned him punishments regularly. The fact that the other slaves said Zabu wasn’t even particularly strict with his people made her afraid for her brother’s future. Surely, strangers wouldn’t be as lenient.

Before Gulan could respond to the outburst, Shala returned with the cloak. “What is going on now?”

Her husband sighed. “I shall take those two with me.” He quickly raised his hand to forestall any protest. “Belili is Master Jas’ar’s apprentice and he wants her to report to him when he wakes up. And the boy… he can be my bodyguard.”

“Very well,” Shalla said, surprisingly not arguing.

Following behind Galan the two siblings walked down the town's earth roads. Despite the late hour, there were still people out. Most were men and almost all carried weapons of one kind or another. What really grabbed Belili’s attention was the size of it all. On both sides, the street was flanked by rows of mudbrick houses of different sizes. And there is more than one such street, she thought amazed.

She had heard many times that Urk was supposed to be just a small town compared to cities like Saggab. Having never left Zabu’s farm with its half-dozen buildings before, she couldn’t even imagine what that would look like.

“Is this your first time in town?” Gulan asked over his shoulder.

Belili quickly lowered her eyes. He must have noticed me staring, she thought self-consciously.

“Yes,” she said.

“They say Saggab has even more houses,” Saras said.

“Ha!” The healer wiggled his finger. “There is no comparison. Any district of Inashtar’s city is bigger than all of Urk. There are temples and palaces as high as three of these houses stacked on top of each other and all of it is surrounded by a huge wall.”

Saras grinned. “I will go there one day.” In contrast to his sister, he had no qualms about showing his enthusiasm. One hand resting on the hilt of his sword, he walked cockily down the street. In his borrowed tunic with the decorated hemline and carrying the valuable bronze weapon he looked more like the son of a rich family than a slave. The short-cropped hair was the only reminder of his true station.

Gulan didn’t respond and they walked in silence for a while. Up ahead Belili could see the outline of the wall. Fires were placed on top in regular intervals with shadowy figures positioned in between.

“Is it true what he said?” Saras asked, whispering.

Belili gave him an irritated look. The street around them was becoming busier, but it was still unlikely that the healer wouldn’t hear.

“About you becoming a magus,” her brother said, walking a bit closer. “Is that why you left the camp with Master Jas’ar’s staff last night?”

Belili stared straight ahead. “What do you think I was doing?” She didn’t want to discuss this with Saras. Not now. She knew she would have to tell him what the magus had asked of her, soon. If the worst came to pass, they would have to flee together. They had to prepare.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Maybe you took it and snuck off to see if you could do magic.”

That made her angry. “I am not like you,” she hissed.

Her brother raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“You always take things without permission,” she said. “Like Mortar’s spear. Remember?” Her brother had once borrowed the old guard’s weapon without asking. He had said he needed to train, to get used to the weight.

Saras' hand rose reflexively to his cheek where the old man had punched him so hard the whole side of his face had swollen up. When he noticed his subconscious gesture, he lowered his arm immediately, staring daggers at Belili.

“Master Jas’ar has seen something in your sister,” Gulan said, interrupting the budding fight. “You should be happy for her. Not many have the fortune to be chosen to learn under a true magus, never mind a sage. This is a great blessing.”

Saras glanced at his sister with narrowed eyes. “What’s a sage?”

Belili perked up. She hadn’t gotten around to asking Master Jas’ar about that yet and she wouldn’t have dared to ask the healer. Not only because of the difference in status but also because Gulan made her uncomfortable. There was something strange in the way he looked at her at times. Or I am just imagining things, she thought.

“This is one of the very oldest of legends,” Gulan said. “It is told that long ago Nemki was the first god to take a true interest in man. He took pity on our helpless state, so he gathered seven men and women and taught them. They learned to fish and to build houses, to grow food, and to worship the gods. And magic. They learned how to master the power of the gods itself, making them the first magi.” While he explained, excitement crept into his voice. “Eventually, he sent them out into the world to teach others. Wherever these men and women went, they spread their wisdom. People stopped living in the animalistic ways of the nomads and began building villages and the first cities. The sages brought civilization to everybody.”

Belili had never heard this story before. On the farm, they worshipped Urk to ensure good harvests. The god of the springs was generous with his people but she had never heard of anybody meeting him face to face.

“Master Jas’ar does not look that old,” Saras said, scratching his head. “I mean he looks old but not that old.”

Belili wanted to kick him. How could her older brother be so disrespectful? Couldn’t he tell how much Gulan admired magi? To her relive the healer chuckled.

“Ah,” he said, “that is one of the great mysteries surrounding the seven sages. Are they immortals wandering the world or is the title passed down? And are there really seven at all times?” He looked to Belili with a complicated expression. “You might actually learn the answers to these questions in the future.”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Do not stand there, you fool!”

Their conversation interrupted by the shout, their attention turned to a group of men gathered below the wall a little ahead. One of them was waving vigorously to a man standing on top of the wall next to a torch. “How often did I tell you, that if you stand directly next to a fire, you are not going to see anything out there, but they are going to see you.”

“But Harbis,” The man on the wall called back, “it gets cold at night.”

The guard chief picked a stone from the ground and threw it at the man. The stone missed by a couple of hands but made the victim duck away.

“Hey!”

“Tonight, that is going to be an arrow,” Harbis shouted. He shook his head and turned back to the group. “Have the merchants’ guards arrived yet?”

“No,” a tall man carrying a cudgel on his belt said. “Should I go and ask?”

“Do you think they are going to listen to you this time?” Harbis shouted angrily.

“Greetings Harbis,” Gulan said as they came closer. “Is there a problem?”

For a heartbeat, it looked like the guard chief was about to shout at him but then he pressed his lips together. “Too many to count, healer.”

“There is a rumor that we are already being attacked?” Gulan asked. “Seeing you so calm, I assume it was not more than that.”

Harbis picked another stone off the ground. “No attack yet.” He threw the stone at the man on the wall, who had barely moved more than two paces away from the fire. This time he hit his target in the hip and was rewarded with a cry followed by cursing. Harbis turned back to them with a satisfied expression. “Two chariots appeared half an hour ago and started to circle the town outside of bow range.”

“To study our defenses?” Gulan asked.

Harbis shrugged. “What little there is to see.”

“You said yourself – we do have the wall. And Urk has enough men to man it.”

“Sure,” the guard chief said. “And if I had a couple of weeks to prepare them – maybe teach them how to use a bow…”

“Fire!”

This time the shout came from a wall sentry and was immediately picked up by others.

“Inashtar curse them,” Harbis shouted and ran for the closest ladder. Gulan followed him a heartbeat later and so did everybody else. Saras actually reached the ladder right after the healer but was shouldered aside by the tall man with the cudgel. One after another the members of Harbis group climbed up, shuffling around on top to find a free space to stand. When Saras and Belili finally made it to the top of the wall the first excitement had already died down. The men were quietly staring into the distance where two pillars of smoke rose into the sky.

“Whose farm is that?” somebody asked.

“That is one of Ibilsin’s,” Harbis said. “He owns three in the south-west of Urk and he might lose all of them today.”

“The old money grabber is not going to like that,” the tall guard murmured.

“He will get over it,” Harbis snorted. “Buildings can be rebuilt. He is not hoarding his gold out there, you can be sure of that.”

“Not a lot of room here,” Saras said half-loud.

“What are you complaining about?” the tall man asked. Then his eyes narrowed. “What are you even doing up here?”

Belili tore her eyes off the horizon and leaned back looking past the men’s backs.

Saras was right. One has to be careful walking past one another up here. The wall was barely brought enough for two men to stand shoulder to shoulder.

“Leave it,” Harbis said, resting his hands on the hip-high battlement. “He is right, anyway. The wall walk is also only two or three handsbreadths higher than an average man with raised arms.”

“As I understand it, the builders advised against making it too high,” Gulan said. “For reasons of stability.”

“They would have had to make the base broader which the elders did not want to pay for,” Harbis said, acidly. “I have been trying forever to convince them to at least dig a ditch in front to win a little more height.” He shrugged. “It is too late now anyway.”

“Maybe the elders decide to hand the old man and his box over,” somebody said hopefully. “Then we will not have to fight.”

“Great,” the tall man said. “You go get it. Let us know how it went.”

“What do you mean?”

The tall man crossed his arms. “I mean a plague tore through my village when I was still too young to grow hair down there. I do not need to see something like that again.”

The guard next to him nodded vigorously. “I heard he summoned wind and blew away three chariots on his way here.”

“Enough,” Harbis said. “We will know soon enough. Now go to your posts. I do not think anything is going to happen before tomorrow.”

“There!” The tall man suddenly raised his arm pointing into the distance. A cloud of dust came down the road. “A single chariot heading for the gate.”

“We better go over there,” Gulan said.

Instead of climbing down again the whole group hurried along the wall, being slowed down whenever they had to pass a lookout. Some of the lonely guards wanted to follow the group and only an angry order from Harbis or one of his men kept them at their post.

“That is Ibilsin,” Harbis said from upfront, where Belili couldn’t see him. “Let us hope he has not handed over the town just yet.”

Only the tall man snickered. Everybody else kept quiet, the seriousness of the situation showing in their grim expressions.

They are nervous, Belili thought.

Harbis men looked like a rough lot, many sporting visible scars on their limbs and faces. One was even missing an eye.

If men like this are afraid even with the wall, master Jas’ar might be right. But how can Saras and I get out of Urk when the enemy is already circling the town?

The group came to a sudden halt and the men leaned over the battlement to see. Only Gulan and Harbis walked a bit further to join Ibilsin and the two other elders with him.

Below them was the gate. On the town’s site, a small crowd had gathered. Most of the people were men carrying a variety of weapons but Belili could see some women and children, too. Curiosity must have drawn them despite the potential danger.

“I greet you,” Ibilsin called. “I am Ibilsin. I speak for the people of Urk.”

Belili had to push herself up a bit on the battlement to be able to see the new arrivals the elder was addressing.

Below – about thirty paces in front of the gate – stood the chariot. The charioteer had brought it half around before stopping, presenting the painted side of the wagon to the onlookers on the wall.

As the last of the whirled-up dust was carried away by a light breeze Belili could make out three figures. Two of them were brought-shouldered men, one of which kept the rains in hand.

He wants to be ready to make a run for it in case the townspeople attack them, Belili thought. That is why he brought the chariot halfway around already.

Not that that the Epi-khmet showed any fear whatsoever otherwise. The second man jumped off the platform only to turn around and hold out his arm. Accepting his help, the third figure followed with careful steps.

“A woman,” somebody murmured.

While her head was covered by the hood of her traveling cloak, the petite figure was unmistakably female. Standing almost two heads shorter than the man she was leaning on, the woman turned towards the wall. For a moment she seemed to take in the diverse group gathered on the wall. Then she nodded to the man on her side who immediately bowed his head before stepping forward.

The warrior wore light leather armor and carried one of the bronze sickle swords on his hip. Same as the men that had come to the estate, his head was shaven except for a long braid protruding from the side.

“I am Emareth, servant of the Ka,” he shouted. “Within these walls is a man who is not one of you. This man took something that did not belong to him. Give us the man and what he took and there will be no bloodshed between us.”

“You already attacked us,” a younger man shouted back from the wall, pointing in the direction of the columns of smoke in the distance.

Emareth ignored him, his eyes on the group of elders.

Ibilsin cleared his throat. “These lands are under the protection of the sar of Saggab and the great goddess Inashtar.”

“Saggab is far away,” Emareth said. “We have sent out a call to every bandit group around. More men arrive every hour.” This time he pointed at the smoke columns. “Give us the thief and we will kill the bandit leaders and leave. It should be easy enough for you to disperse them afterward.”

“We have sent a messenger when we first heard of your incursion,” Ibilsin said. “The sar has a fort less than three days from here. I advise you to leave our lands before his warriors bring the fury of the great goddess Inashtar over you.”

The Epi-khmet considered the elder for a moment before turning around and walking back to the chariot. He reached behind the side and retrieved a sack. One hand disappeared inside the sack and returned with a dripping object the size of a human head.

A gasp went through the crowd on the wall.

No, Belili thought, while her back grew cold.

Emareth held up the head for all to see. “The messenger you sent north.” The head dropped to the ground and the hand reached into the sack once more. “The man you sent north-east.” After being presented the second head joined the first in the dirt. But the Epi-khmet wasn’t done. When the third and last head was held up, Belili only just managed to stifle a cry by clutching her hand over her mouth. Others around her showed less restraint.

“The last man who gave shelter to the thief,” Emareth said, discarding Zabu’s head as he had the others. “His people will be handed to the bandits to be sold in the slave markets in the south. If you decide to continue to harbor this man, your families will experience the same fate.”

For a couple of heartbeats, nobody spoke.

“They killed him,” Saras whispered next to Belili.

Zabu is dead. Belili couldn’t quite grasp the reality of it but down there in the dirt, she saw the face of a man she had known her entire life. The skin was discolored and the eyes were empty but Zabu was still recognizable. What about Tala and Ninkar? How could Mortar let this happen? He was supposed to keep us safe. How could this have happened? There was another voice in her mind that told her that all of this was her fault.

“We… the elders need to deliberate your demands,” Ibilsin said, trying to regain his composure as he spoke. “It is late. We will give you our answer tomorrow.”

This time Emareth looked back to the woman who hadn’t moved from the spot where he had left her the whole time.

At first, she seemed to ignore him. After two heartbeats she slowly raised her hands to throw back the hood of her traveling cloak and revealed the half-veiled face of a young girl.

“She is beautiful,” Saras whispered.

“Yeah,” another man said. “Why did they bring her?”

She cannot be older than sixteen, Belili thought. And she looks so angry.

‘I have been told your name is Urk, the young girl shouted without moving her lips. ‘I wish to talk to you.’