“We found two,” Motar said, throwing a sickle sword on the kitchen table.

“Hm.” Master Jas’ar sat astride a bench, his wounded leg stretched out. “You could not find the trail of the third?”

Motar shook his head grimly.

The magus’ smile didn’t reach his eyes. “That is unfortunate.”

“May the gods protect us,” Motar said, followed by a couple of mumbled curses.

“What can one man do?” Ninkar asked. “No way he got through that… that accident unharmed.”

“It is not the man we have to worry about,” master Jas’ar said. “But who he will lead back here. Tala, I am afraid I have brought grave danger upon your home.” He made a short pause, looking into the distance. “How far is it to the next fortified settlement?”

“Urk,” Tala said, kneeling next to the magus to redress his wound. “A day’s march if one does not dawdle. But master Jas’ar, you are in no shape to walk the distance. I am afraid you are developing a fever, too.”

“We caught one of the chariot horses,” Motar said. “The other broke a leg and we had to put it out of its misery. But with a horse, the master can easily make it to town.”

“With his leg?” Tala asked. “His wound would open up before he reached the end of the fields.”

Motar responded with silence.

The magus adjusted his position on the bench. “I am afraid you are misinterpreting my intention. We all must go.”

Silence fell over the kitchen. Belili, tasked with caring for the fire while Ninkar assisted Tala, glanced from one to the other. Everybody’s eyes were on the old man sitting in the center of the room.

“Once they return,” Master Jas’ar said in a slow and deliberate manner, “they will storm the estate in numbers. It will be fast and merciless. When they are unable to find me, whoever survived will be interrogated in a fashion that makes them feel reassured he or she is telling the truth.” He turned an expectant look on Motar.

After holding the magus’ eyes for two heartbeats, the veteran guardsman looked away. “The master is right.”

“We could send out somebody to meet them before they come here?” Ninkar said. “Motar, you go. Or send one of your boys.” The big cook looked desperately from the guard to Tala.

“…Motar?” Tala asked her face a mask.

He crossed his arms. “When I was still with the caravans, sometimes the merchants would negotiate with bands of bandits. But for that to work you had to have enough armed men to make them think twice about the prize of a fight.” He shook his head. “If they are after master Jas’ar, we have nothing to give them and the one that got away knows that we have no fighters.”

Tala stood and brushed the dust from her knees. “Then we must leave immediately. Ninkar, prepare food and water. Motar, send your boys out to call everybody back from the fields. We are not going to leave anybody behind.”

“For what it is worth,” the magus said. “These men are not thieves. They will not steal from you and it is unlikely that they will sacrifice time on destroying your home.”

Tala inclined her head. “Food, water, and weapons. Belili, you will be responsible for Master Jas’ar. Always stay at his side. Motar will show you how to guide the horse.” She clapped her hands “Off you go!”

The outlook of a raid motivated the inhabitants of the estate to hurry their preparation but it still took almost an hour for everybody to be ready. Belili did not really have any belongings to pack. She wrapped the few pieces of clothing she and Saras owned into a bundle and tied it together with a cord that let her sling it over her back.

The other slaves and servants did the same but also carried bags with food, water, and other things, Tala and Ninkar had ordered them to bring.

When they were finally marching along the dirt road leading away from the estate midday had already passed. Belili walked in the middle of the group, leading the chariot horse Motar had recovered. The old guard had handed her the reins and told her to stay calm and walk next to the beast, not in front.

Belili had been afraid but Master Jas’ar had assured her he had sat on a horse before. I am not sure if that is true, she thought. He looks so awkwardly on that giant beast.

“It is not so easy to find a way to sit that does not hurt,” he said, correctly guessing her thoughts.

Feeling caught, Belili turned her face away which caused a warm, silent laughter from the horse's back.

“Can I…can I ask something?” After everything that had happened, it had taken Belili some time to gather her courage once more. Knowing and seeing were different things. But the experience of hearing whatever those voices were in her head – that went even beyond that.

“Please,” the magus said. “I imagine you have more than one question, considering everything that has happened. Now that we have some privacy, you may ask me whatever you want.”

Confused, Belili looked over her shoulder. It was true. Walking in the middle of the group, there was a gap both in front and behind them.

“It seems I made an impression,” master Jas’ar said bemused.

“Then…why are these men after you?”

He nodded, his eyes looking into the distance. “Addressing the practical first - very good. I took something from them, they must have back.”

“You stole from them?” Belili asked, so surprised she didn’t even consider she might give offense.

“Indeed,” he said. “But what I took from them, they stole first, you see.”

“So, you just took it back?”

“No.”

Belili frowned. “I do not understand.”

“The original owner is a third party,” the magus said, gesturing toward the distance. “I happened to learn about the theft and understood the dire consequences that would likely arise from it. I decided to take the object in question in my possession, thereby preventing said consequences.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

The way he describes it, he did something good. She tilted her head in thought. “But you kept the thing…what they stole first.”

The magus shrugged. “It is what we do.”

“Stealing?”

“Collecting,” he said, raising his finger. “To be a magus means to collect. To collect knowledge, magic, and subsequently power.”

“I thought magic is given by the gods?”

“It does,” he said. “A lot of it. But they usually do not hand it over to mortals out of the goodness of their hearts.”

Belili wasn’t sure how she felt about this conversation. Outwardly, she was calmly leading the horse along the dirt road, walking at an even pace. On the inside, her thoughts and feelings were churning.

I am walking next to the most powerful person I ever met, she thought. A figure right out of the stories and legends the adults tell over the fire. But everything he says is so weird. The magus’ casual explanations painted a picture that was so confusingly different from anything she had ever learned.

“Do the gods not reward you with power if you serve them well?” she asked. “Zabu sacrifices at the temples and Tala prays every day. And in return, the gods bless and protect our harvest.”

“Serving gods, doing all the things you just mentioned, is a tried-and-true way to receive their favor,” Master Jas’ar said. “Especially if you live a sedentary life, it is wise to establish a good relationship with the local deities. Around here you worship Urk, yes?”

Belili nodded. “He is the god of the wells that provide the water for our fields.”

“Growing crops in the domain of a god that does not like you is pretty futile.” The magus shifted his position a bit, making the horse whiny. “Calm, girl,” he said, patting the beast's neck. “All is fine. I just had to take the pressure off my leg a bit. Now, where was I?”

“It is good to serve the gods,” Belili said, trying not to sound too eager.

“…yes. For most mortals in most circumstances that is the only way. You pray you sacrifice, and you hope for the best.”

“But not for a magus?” Beli asked silently. She couldn’t help but feel like the question itself was dangerous blasphemy. There were some legends of heroes who had stood up to the gods. Yet, many of those were lessons on hubris.

The magus smiled. “Enough do. But if you limit yourself to one deity or a group that manages to get along with each other, all your magic, all you are and will ever be is limited. It makes you a servant or a…”

“A slave,” Belili said, finishing the sentence.

“Yes,” the master said, raising his staff so that it lay across the horse’s neck. “So, the question is, is that what you want, or would you rather go another way?”

Is the alternative stealing from the gods? Belili thought. How can that lead to anything but damnation? But can I dare to ask that? While she pondered, her eyes fell on the staff with its tangled carvings. The last time she had been this close to it – when she had touched it – her mind had almost drowned in the flood of jumbled voices. The memory alone made her shiver. But then she noticed something she had not before. The symbols were all different with no discernable style or pattern.

Up close it is quite… ugly, she thought. Whoever had decorated the staff had not cared about ecstatic or had no eye for it at all. I should probably be careful when I ask about it.

“Somebody is coming,” master Jas’ar said.

Belili looked around, believing he had referred to the rest of their group but then the magus pointed ahead. A moment later Motar joined them.

“You are seeing somebody ahead, master?” he asked worriedly.

“Far in the distance, yes,” the magus said. “The reflection of light on metal, I think.”

Motar jogged a bit to the side, so he could see past the front of their group. It didn’t go unnoticed. So far, the inhabitants of the estate had marched mostly in silence. Now, anxious murmurs started up all around them.

“Is it the enemy?” Tala asked, catching up to them at a measured pace. Ninkar followed on her heels, her fearful expression presenting a stark contrast to the former’s sober demeanor.

“No way to tell,” Motar said. “Not at this distance.”

“Should we not…do something?” Ninkar’s eyes flickered fearful from him to Tala, avoiding the magus towering over them.

“Huh.” The old guard grimaced. “Not much sense in running if they have chariots. The horse might make it, but on foot, we do not stand a chance. We could try running for the hills but with so many people we are leaving a track that is hard to miss.”

Tala turned to Master Jas’ar. “If Motar is right, you should take the horse and flee. If they do not find you with us, they might leave us alone.”

Belili couldn’t help but admire the woman’s composure. While she tried hard not to show it, she felt more like Ninkar, who looked like she was about to panic.

The magus had never taken his eyes off the horizon. “I do not think it is our pursuers,” he said, ignoring Tala’s offer. “On this ground, chariots would cause a large dust cloud.”

Everybody looked to Motar again who stroked his short beard. “Yes, that is true.”

“I suggest to send somebody ahead on horseback,” the magus said. “It cannot be me of course. Not with my leg.”

“Motar,” Tala said, “you are the only one here who can ride.”

Motar looked as grim as always. “Yes, that is probably the best we can do.”

Several hands helped master Jas’ar of the horse and Belili offered him her shoulder to lean on again. The old man accepted it with a grateful smile.

Motar swung himself on the horse’s back with surprising agility. The beast protested and took a couple of steps backward but Motar padded his neck and spoke silently into its ear.

“This should do,” he said, straightening.

“Good luck,” Tala said. “And do not take any unnecessary risks.”

“But what if they kill him?” Ninkar blurted out.

All eyes turned to the cook who had her hands clasped over her chest. “I… I mean how would we know?” she asked, wilting under the stares.

“That is a good point,” Motar said, dryly. “The enemy will have bows.”

The magus nodded. “True.”

Belili had to swallow. How can those two speak about death so casually? Motar is about to risk his life for us. Or maybe they are used to it?

The old guard had accompanied caravans through foreign lands for many years and had probably been in situations like theirs many times. As far as the magus leaning on her shoulder was concerned, she had seen enough to understand how he could stay unfazed in this situation.

Glancing ahead she hoped it would turn out to be nothing. What was it again, master Jas’ar had seen? She thought.

Struck by the sudden thought she turned to the adults, almost off-balancing the old man.

“Careful, child!” Tala looked at her disapprovingly.

“I am sorry,” Belili said quickly. “But what was it again that you saw, master?”

“What are you blabbering about?” Ninkar asked.

The magus met her eyes, frowning at first. Then his eyebrows rose. “Smart girl,” he said silently. “Motar can take something to reflect the light. If there is danger, he can immediately give us a signal. Maybe that will give us enough time to run for the hills.”

“And I can lead them in another direction,” Motar said, nodding.

Tala began to rummage in the bag she carried over her shoulder. After a couple of heartbeats, she produced a round disk of polished copper. The handle was the intricately casted figure of a nude woman with long braids.

“Take my mirror,” she said. “It will be easier to handle than your spear.”

Motar hesitantly received the valuable possession. “Thank you, Tala.” He carefully pushed it under his tunic. “I will be off then.” He turned the horse around and clicked his tongue. A moment later, the beast shot past the front of the group.

“Let us pray for his safety,” Tala said. “And our own.”

From then on, their eyes were constantly on the horizon, all of them afraid to miss the warning signal.

It never came.

It took almost an hour for Motar to return. When the inhabitants of the estate first saw the horse’s dust cloud, they almost ran for the hills with the two remaining guards leading the charge. Only a stern word from Tala kept them in line.

The whole time, Zabu’s wife had not shown any sign of fear, her poise matching the magus’ walking by her side. Yet, when the horse came to a halt next to her, even she could not help but look relieved.

“No danger then?” she asked.

“It is your husband,” Motar said. “It is Zabu. And he is bringing the healer.”

Relief swept through the group. It was like a weight they had carried since their departure dropping from their shoulders and suddenly everybody talked over each other.

“I told the boy to hurry,” Motar said, gliding off the horse, “but he must have run so fast, that he caught up with Zabu before he reached Urk. Your husband heard the healer was visiting another estate close by so he sent Saras with a donkey to fetch him.”

Tala clasped her hands. “It seems the gods are with us.”

Belili looked ahead. Somewhere there in the distance was Saras, steadily coming closer.