“From the Inner Empire?” Zabu asked, his forehead furrowing. “This far beyond their borders?”

“They were definitely Epi-khmet,” Tala said.

“If you ask me, how temple guards from Naset-ka got here,” Motar said calmly, “that I do not know. But I have been to Naset-ka, to Ma-nefra, and some other Epi-Khmet cities and I recognized the haircuts and the insignia they wore under their cloaks.”

“He is right,” the healer said, turning the sickle sword in his hand and pointing at a spot right above the hilt. “This is a symbol of the Ka, the council of primordial gods worshipped in the Inner Empire.”

Everybody leaned forward to see. Even Belili couldn’t help herself. When she almost bumped shoulders with Tala, she quickly pulled back, glancing left and right to make sure she hadn’t overstepped.

“Looks like a frog,” Zabu murmured.

“I had not heard of the Ka,” Tala said. “Do all Epi-Khmet not worship the same gods?”

Gulan handed the weapon back to Motar. “They are a very old people and know many gods. We are more familiar with the deities currently dominant in the Outer Empire because it lies on the most southern tip of the Golden Road. Since the split a hundred years ago Naset-ka had neither access to the sea nor to the eastern trade.”

Motar nodded. “Merchants usually sell or exchange their goods in Ma-nefra. You never know when the hostilities between the two might heat up again. But I heard there is a lot of smuggling going on.” He shrugged.

Zabu leaned back and crossed his arms. “When Motar and Tala told me about the Epi-Khmet, I sent one of my men ahead with the horse. By now the officials in Urk should know about the foreign warriors in our lands.”

“Very prudent,” Gulan said. Then he pursed his lips. “Of course, this does not tell us yet why they pursue Master Jas’ar. Do we know where he is from or maybe which gods he is connected to?”

For the first time since the beginning of the conversation, Zabu turned to Belili. “The girl here has spent the most time with him.”

Suddenly, all eyes were on Belili. Unsure what to say she looked to Tala, searching for help.

“It is fine,” Zabu’s wife said. “Just answer healer Gulan’s question as good as you can.”

“Did Master Jas’ar ever mention any names to you?” the healer asked.

“…I am not sure,” Belili said nervously. Should I even say anything? She thought. Master Jas’ar might have had his reasons not to share more with us.

“Tala told me, you talked to him the whole way here,” Zabu said impatiently. “He must have said something?”

“I…I do not know,” Belili said. “The things he says…it is very confusing sometimes.” While she stuttered her answer, her mind raced to think of something that would satisfy the adults staring at her.

Zabu was about to say something else, but Gulan raised his hand. “Say, did you happen to see his staff?”

Unsure where the healer was going, Belili nodded hesitantly.

“Good,” he said. “It must have had symbols on it, right?”

Again, Belili nodded. Then she realized that this might be disrespectful. “Yes.”

Gulan smiled at her. He speaks kindly but something about his eyes makes me uncomfortable, Belili thought.

“While I treated the magus’ leg, I saw the staff lying next to him but it was too dark to make out any details,” he said. “Do you think you could describe them to us?”

“I think so. I…” How should she describe what she had seen?

“Here.” Guessing the problem, the healer scooted back a bit and brushed over the ground in front of him. “Zabu, please give the girl your spoon. She can use the handle to draw.” He gestured, encouraging Belili to come over to him.

Belili glanced around, but everybody was just looking expectantly. Hesitantly, she rose and joined the young healer’s side. Accepting the wooden spoon from Zabu she kneeled down and stared at the earth. What did she remember from the carvings? They were all so different and jumbled, she thought. It would be easier to remember if they had formed some kind of consistent picture or pattern. She closed her eyes, picturing the staff in the magus’ hand. The way he had leaned on it. How it had rested across the horse’s neck. How it had leaned against the wall in Zabu and Tala’s room. When I touched it.

Suddenly, the memory of the voices was fresh in her mind. This time it didn’t feel like she was drowning in them. They were more distant, most of them just whispering in the background. But those few sticking out seemed to come from the staff in her memory. No, that is not quite it, Belili thought. She lacked the words to properly describe what she experienced.

She opened her eyes, leaned forward, and started to draw. Three quick lines formed the first symbol. Studying her work for a heartbeat, Belili nodded and closed her eyes again, recalling another voice.

Engrossed in her work, she carved one symbol after another into the dirt. Some of them consisted only of a few simple lines. Others were formed from groups of several smaller carvings.

Whenever she ran out of space, she shuffled sideways until she eventually bumped into Gulan, who was leaning forward to study her work.

“Hoopla,” the healer said.

It was enough to break the spell. Startled, Belili realized that she had completely forgotten about her surroundings.

Zabu leaned forward with crossed arms, a deep frown on his face. Tala and Motar must have risen at some point without her noticing and were leaning over them to get a better look. Only Ninkar hadn’t moved from her place on the other side of the fire. Meeting her eyes, Belili saw confusion and fear. Before she could wonder what had gotten over the woman, Zabu leaned back with a grunt.

“I cannot make out anything from these scratches,” he said. “Are you just making things up, child?”

“No, husband,” Tala said slowly. “Look, these signs are of the Old Tongue. Belili never learned to read or write. And those,” she pointed at another corner, “those look like the symbols the Epi-Khmet use.”

Motar grunted without looking up. “Tala is right. Those are like the glyphs they scratch into their temple walls.”

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“But this is a confused jumble,” Zabu said, scratching his beard. “Like somebody just randomly picked up symbols he saw somewhere.”

“We witnessed master Jas’ar’s magic,” Tala said. “Just because we cannot make sense of this, does not mean there is no higher order to it.”

“No, he is right,” Belili murmured, her eyes on her own work.

“What did you just say, child?”

All heads turned to Gulan and then followed his gaze to Belili.

“What you just said - please repeat it.” The healer’s eyes had become narrow, piercing her with an inquisitive stare.

“Zabu is right,” Belili said, looking carefully from one to the other. “There is no order. It is a loud… a collection.”

The adults exchanged glances, unsure what to do with her words. All except the healer. Gulan had placed his index finger over his lips, his eyes wide and unfocused as if a sudden thought had struck him. “…a sage.”

“Does this tell you anything?” Zabu asked.

Gulan took his time before answering. “I am not sure. I must think about it some more.” He paused. “I think it was wise of you to alarm Urk to all this. We should hurry back as quickly as possible.”

Zabu turned to Motar.

“We leave before first light,” the veteran said, understanding the silent question. “No breakfast. The rest of the journey is short enough to make it on an empty stomach.”

“What about Master Jas’ar?” Tala asked.

“He can travel in the wagon,” Zabu said. “There are enough of us to carry the wares.”

Motar picked up his spear. “We should tell everybody to go to sleep now. I will check the guards.”

“Good,” Zabu said, ending their small assembly.

“You did good, Belili,” Tala said, touching her shoulder for a moment. “Tonight, stay with Master Jas’ar and tend to his needs.”

Relieved to be released, Belili rose to her feet.

“You have a good memory for signs and symbols,” Gulan said. “You might make a good scribe.”

There was something in his eyes that Belili couldn’t place. Was it suspicion?

“Thank you.” She bowed her head and hurried off.

The truth was, Belili hadn’t remembered the symbols, but she had remembered some of the things the voices had said. When she closed her eyes and recalled their words, she could hear the voice and with them, the signs appeared in her head, like one would recall the face of the speaker.

She hadn’t mentioned any of this to Tala or the others. At first, she had told herself that she didn’t know if the magus would be fine with it. But that wasn’t the entire reason. Closing her eyes and recalling the words – hearing the voices in her head again – had sparked an idea. That idea had turned into a terrible suspicion about whom the voices belonged to. It frightened her.

Walking through the camp, she tried to ignore the suspicious stares and frowns following her. Nobody dared to say anything but she knew many of the servants and slaves blamed her for their current circumstances.

“There you are!”

Saras voice made Belili jump. Holding her head down to avoid the stares, she hadn’t noticed him approaching.

“Not so loud,” she whispered, irritated. “The others are trying to sleep.”

“Hm?” Her brother looked around while walking next to her. “Looks like they are angry with you. How come?”

“They are blaming me for having to sleep out here in the dirt.”

“How is that your fault?”

Belili made a face. “I brought the magus back to the estate.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Saras said, unconcerned. “Do you think Master Jas’ar will need a guard when he continues his journey?”

“I do not know,” Belili said. She had too much on her mind to deal with her brother’s fantasies.

“He is going to need help with his leg, too,” Saras said. “Somebody to fetch and carry things.”

“Somebody like you?” Belili asked. “What are you doing here anyway? Were you not supposed to stay with Master Jas’ar?”

“He sent me to fetch water,” Saras said, raising the waterskin and shaking it in front of her. “It was still half full but he said it was better to refill it at any opportunity when you are traveling.”

Belili rolled her eyes, knowing Saras couldn’t see it in the darkness. The master had likely sent him on an errand to get rid of him. “You can give me the waterskin. Tala ordered me to stay with him, tonight.”

Saras hesitated. He probably didn’t want to miss the opportunity to recommend himself to the important man.

“Motar is organizing the guards for the night,” Belili said. “If you find him, you could volunteer.”

Seeing the shift in Saras' posture, she knew she had his attention. “Maybe you can borrow that sickle sword he took from the foreigners.”

“Sickle sword?”

“That is what Motar called it. It is as long as my arm but the blade is curved.” She drew the shape in the air with her hand.

“And it’s made from bronze?” Saras asked.

Belili shrugged. “It had the right color.”

“It has to be if it is that long,” Saras murmured.

Most of the metal tools they used were made from copper. Bronze was famous for its hardness but it was very expensive. Motar’s spear was tipped with bronze but to cast an entire sword meant these Epi-Khmet had to be very wealthy.

Saras pushed the waterskin on her. “I am going to see if Motar needs my help.” He ran off searching for the old guardsman.

Poor Motar, Belili thought. But if she wanted to learn more from Master Jas’ar, she had to get rid of her brother. Otherwise, he would bud in at every opportunity.

Reaching the magus lonely camp, she found the man lying on his back with his eyes closed. Disappointed, she walked closer, careful not to make too much noise. Considering how long the old man must already have been awake, it was no wonder he had fallen asleep.

She placed the waterskin at his side, in case he became thirsty during the night and looked around for a good spot to lay down herself.

“It took you quite a while to come back,” the magus said.

Startled, Belili backed away.

Master Jas’ar hadn’t opened his eyes. He just lay there, his hands folded over the cloak serving as his blanket. “That nosy healer must have asked you a lot of questions. He does know his trade though; I will give him that.”

“They asked me which gods you serve,” Belili said, unsure how else to respond.

“Ha!”

“I told them, I did not know.”

“But they were not satisfied with that answer or you would have been back sooner.”

“No,” Belili said. “Healer Gulan had me draw the signs on your staff.”

Master Jas’ar smiled. “A smart man. What did you draw for them?”

Belili wasn’t sure. The signs themselves held no meaning for her. How many had she drawn? Thinking back, she moved her fingers to count.

“I don’t know what they mean,” she finally said. “But I drew about as many as I have fingers on both hands.”

This time the magus opened his eyes and turned his head to stare at her. “You remembered that many well enough to draw them?”

“I see them in my head when I think about the voices.”

He continued to stare at her, his expression unreadable in the light of the smoldering remains of the fire. Then he tilted his head a little. “The time you touched my staff – we still must talk about that. Tell me what you experienced back then. And have a seat.” He waved toward the other side of the campfire.

“Yes.”

She hurried to take a seat and started to describe what had happened to her when her hands had closed around the wood. Lacking the right words, she had to pause a couple of times, but the magus was a patient listener. When she finished with the description of how she had recalled the voices, he looked up into the night sky for a while.

Waiting, Belili could barely sit still. What did it all mean? What was happening to her? So far, master Jas’ar’s explanations had been more confusing than anything. What he had said about his relationship with the gods had shocked and even frightened her. And yet, instead of trying to stay away from him, she felt the urge to learn more. Maybe I should be more worried about that? She thought. In the legends, those who snooped around in the matters of the gods seldom fare well.

“It seems,” the magus finally said, “that you truly have a special connection to the realm of the gods. A kind of seer-talent, maybe. We will have to look into this further.” He paused for a moment. “It is quite fortunate that you live in so remote a place. Had you grown up in a larger community, somebody would have found you long ago.”

“Found me?” she asked.

“Priests, most likely.” He rolled his eyes. “Maybe even a god. But out here, your talent stayed unnoticed.”

“…what is going to happen to me now?”

The magus smiled again. “You have a choice. You can go to a temple. Likely they will guide you to become an oracle - if your talent is sufficient that is. You will live a good life but you will be bound to a god or a group of them.” He made a dismissive gesture. “Or you can follow me and I will guide you on the path of the magi. It is the more dangerous but also the more exciting choice. And you will be free. As much as anybody ever can be.”

Belili was stunned for words. I am just a slave, she thought. In her short life, she had never made a decision about her own fate.

“Can I be a sage, too?”

She had only whispered the question. She couldn’t say why. After hearing healer Gulan use the word, it stuck with her.

Staring across the dying ambers of the fire, she saw the magus’ eyes widen just a bit.

“…it seems fate has already made its choice.” The white of his teeth shone through the darkness.