“You lost a lot of blood,” Tala said, pushing the thick needle through skin and flesh.

His face barely twitching, master Jas’ar smiled warmly. “Yes, I am afraid I ruined some of my clothing beyond salvation. If it is not too much to ask, I would be grateful if you could spare me some simple garments.”

“Hm.” The sound came from Motar and could mean many things.

Maybe he is acknowledging how the master is ignoring the pain? Belili thought, standing next to the bed to assist the two women working on the magus’ exposed leg.

Ninkar pressed the skin together while Tala personally worked the needle with surprising ease.

“This should do it,” Tala finally said, binding the string she had used to stitch the long gash. “You should move the leg as little as possible or the wound will open again right away. At least for a couple of days. It would be an honor to have you under our roof for as long as you want to stay here.”

The magus dipped his head slightly. “It seems I am in no state to refuse your generosity. May the gods bless your house.”

“You honor us,” Tala said, bowing her head. “We shall let you rest now. I will send Belili up with some food.”

“That would be much appreciated.” With a sigh, Master Jas’ar sank back onto the bed they had prepared for him in the corner of the upstairs room. Belili had laid out fresh blankets and Tala had personally added a couple of the good pillows from the bed she shared with her husband.

“Belili.”

“Yes.” Snapped out of her thoughts, Belili hurried after the leaving women. Motar was the last to follow. Pushing off the wall he had been leaning against, he spared the old man on the bed one last worried glance.

Walking down the stairs, none of them spoke. It wasn’t until they had entered the kitchen, that the old guard spoke up. “Tala, you did not ask him.” He kept his voice respectful, but Belili thought she heard a nervous urgency that seemed out of character for the grim veteran.

Tala placed the small basket with the sewing utensils on the kitchen table. “It did not seem proper. I am sure Master Jas’ar would have told us if there was any danger to the estate.” She gestured to the kitchen help. “Fetch us some water so we can wash off the blood.” Then she turned to Belili. “Ninkar will give you a portion of the stew she prepared and beer. Bring it up to the magus and see if he needs anything else. For now, you are relieved from your other duties.”

“Yes, Tala,” Belili said, seeing Ninkar’s shoulders stiffen a bit from the corner of her eyes. Having known the big cook all her life she understood why.

Ninkar didn’t like having Tala around in what she perceived to be her domain. While Zabu was out on the estate and his wife spent her days secluded upstairs, praying for her dead sons, she ruled the household. We all have to come to her if we want to eat after all.

“Here, take this.” Ninkar handed her a tray with two covered clay vessels. The bigger one contained the stew, while the other was filled with a generous measure of beer, Zabu brewed himself.

“Should I send out a boy to let Zabu know about all this?” Motar asked.

“Yes,” Tala said. “Yes, that would be best. He wanted to be back by noon tomorrow at the latest. When he hears about our guest, he will probably change his plan and return earlier.” She excused Belili with a wave before turning to Motar once more. “Please, ask my husband to bring the healer with him, too.”

Motar grunting his assent, was the last Belili heard, carrying the tray out of the kitchen.

She had served Tala and Zabu their meals countless times but for some reason, the stairs felt steeper today. In her head she had gone over the magus’ words countless times, trying to make sense of them. Can I just ask him? Are slaves allowed to address somebody of that standing? We might all get punished if it displeases him.

Magi were figures of legends, appearing alongside heroic kings and monsters, influencing events of great significance. They served the rulers of faraway places like Saggab or the White City Ma-nefra. Such men and women didn’t belong on Zabu’s estate a good distance away from even the closest town in the region.

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Reaching the top of the stairs, Belili used her knee to hold up the tray, freeing her hand to knock and open the door. “I brought you food and beer.” She spoke in a low voice in case the magus had fallen asleep.

“I thank you,” the man said from behind the curtain. “My last warm meal was quite some time ago.”

Pushing the curtain aside, Belili found the magus in much the same way as they had left him. His freshly sewed leg lay stretched out on the bed. The wound itself was lightly covered with some clean rags to soak up blood and pus.

His hands folded over his belly, master Jas’ar welcomed her with a smile.

He seems in such a good mood, Belili thought. Even with the rings under his eyes, I would never have guessed what he went through.

But Belili did know. Or at least some of it. She had felt it in her dream and she had seen the shadowy forms of the bodies sprinkling the valley where she had found the magus.

Placing the tray on a stool next to the bed, she took off the lid of the bigger clay pot and handed it to the magus. While he began to eat, she fetched a cup from the big table and filled it with beer.

Becoming aware that she had nothing else to do, she looked around awkwardly. Tala had freed her from her other duties so she could serve Master Jas’ar, but what exactly was she supposed to do now.

“If you do not have anything else to do, why not have a seat and talk a bit with me,” the magus said, watching her with a bemused expression. “This stew is very good, by the way. Please give the cook my compliments.”

“I will tell Ninkar that you liked it,” Belili said, pulling up a stool to the foot of the bed. Was that the right thing to say? She wasn’t sure.

He nodded slightly, his eyes back on his food. “This is a very nice room. Whose bed did I steal?”

It took Belili a heartbeat to comprehend the question. “Nobody’s. I mean, Zabu’s and Tala’s sons used to sleep here but they died.”

Master Jas’ar glanced from her to the alter that was visible through a gap in the curtain. Like every day, fresh sacrifices of bread and beer were placed in front of the likenesses of the major gods and Urk, the patron deity of the region.

“When did it happen?” the magus asked.

“Two years ago,” Belili said. “There was a plague in Urk at the time. They say it came with the caravans. Zabu was there to sell beer and wheat. A day or so after his return we received word from town about the outbreak. The day after that Zabu fell sick. He survived but a lot of the children and old folks did not.” Belili fell quiet. She had been younger then, but she still remembered losing people she had been around all her life. While she hadn’t shown any symptoms at all, Saras had caught the disease and been close to death for many days.

Nobody talks about that year. It is like our pain is still too great even now. Maybe that is why nobody faults Tala for spending all her time in worship. Belili’s eyes wandered to the altar. She is grieving for all of us.

Unsure what to do with the insight, she lowered her eyes.

“And since then, Tala spends a lot of her time up here, praying?”

Belili’s eyes widened. Did the gods tell him?

The master’s smile turned into a grin. “I will take the expression on your face as confirmation.” His mouth returned to a benevolent smile. “And now you are asking yourself how I know, yes?”

“...did you use magic?” Belili asked quietly.

“Good.” Master Jas’ar nodded. “No, I did not. The sacrifices at the altar,” he pointed with his spoon, “are overly generous for this time of year. The pillow in front of it looks like it has seen much use. Tala’s dress showed some wear at the height of her knees. From her skin, it is clear that she does not spend much time under the sun.” He paused for a heartbeat. “And lastly, I had the fortune to meet her.”

“Oh.”

Everything the magus had listed was true and anybody who met Tala would understand quickly how devout she was. Still, putting all this together so quickly is quite impressive. But why do I feel disappointed, now?

Thinking about the master’s words she suddenly frowned. “You said it was ‘good’.”

“Indeed.”

“But I was wrong.”

“It was good that you thought, I had used higher powers to learn about her. Next, you might have wondered what else I knew.” Master Jas’ar pushed another spoonful of stew into his mouth, his expression showing content.

“…I do not understand.”

“People thinking that you have power is a form of power in itself,” he said, between spoons. “If you want to become a magus – and survive – you must train yourself to become a good observer and a decent enough actor. It is essential.”

“I…” Belili didn’t know how to respond.

Saras talked about leaving the estate all the time. About becoming a warrior and making a name for himself. He had bothered Motar many times to teach him until the former caravan guard had lost his temper. Not that the beating had curbed her brother’s enthusiasm for long.

But Saras is a dreamer, Belili thought. And yet, there was something else. Another feeling, deeper within her nudged her stronger and stronger. She needed to know more. Hurrying back towards the estate, finding the courage to talk to Tala – yes, she had been worried for Master Jas’ar but she had also been afraid never to learn what he had meant.

Coming to a decision, she gathered her courage once more and looked up into the magus’ eyes. “Do I…can I learn to use magic?”

“Well,” he said, scrapping another spoon from his bowl. “Anybody can, really.”

Before he could say more a warning shout sounded from outside.