‘Surely there’s some other way for you to reach the centre of the desert,’ Mkaer rumbled.

Wirrin walked leisurely up the bank of the Hekaulseg river, not far behind Ketla and her mage. It was already much warmer than it had been in Esbolva, with a pleasant cool breeze from the east.

Ahead, Ketla was dressed in light leathers, her mage still in his thick grey robe. Wirrin had changed into her mid-weight linen spring clothes, and rolled up her sleeves. She smiled vaguely to herself as she walked, looking around at the river, and the grasses, bushes, and trees growing up around it.

Wirrin was amusing herself seeing how slowly she could make Ketla and the mage go. They kept pulling away as she maintained her leisurely sight-seeing, and then slowing when they noticed that Wirrin wasn’t keeping up.

‘Hekaulseg is in the lateral centre of the desert. From there I can just walk north until we find something,’ Wirrin thought.

‘You don’t have to accompany the mage to Hekaulseg,’ Mkaer rumbled.

‘They’re accompanying me, Mkaer, not the other way around,’ Wirrin thought. ‘And fleeing wouldn’t be very productive, would it?’

‘And it would be rather less entertaining,’ Naertral shushed.

‘And if I die, I’ve already set up people to find the two of you again,’ Wirrin thought. ‘So I don’t know why you’re worrying.’

‘I’m worrying because being banished is very unpleasant,’ Mkaer grumbled. ‘I have no wish to return to empty eternity, no matter how swiftly I may be recovered.’

‘And if I had gone south, instead of finding Naertral?’ Wirrin thought. ‘We may have fortified ourselves into the mountains again, and the Church would have crushed us just as surely.’

‘You said yourself that Tevinan held against the Church for ten years,’ Mkaer rumbled. ‘There are so few mages, now. You would have held longer.’

‘And no one would have cared,’ Wirrin thought. ‘Just the Southerners feuding with the Church again. And it would have been boring.’

‘It would have been so boring,’ Naertral shushed.

Mkaer rumbled and cracked and Naertral burbled and shushed. The Fiends retreated to that niggling at the back of Wirrin’s mind as she kept on walking. She wished she could understand what they were saying to each other, but it still felt unlike language as she thought of it.

As Ketla and the mage paused to look back at Wirrin, the sand rumbled just a touch and a bird took off from a nearby tree. Wirrin stopped to watch the honeyeater flutter across to another tree, trilling the whole way.

‘You don’t have to wait for me, if you’re in a hurry,’ Wirrin said, as she caught up with Ketla and the mage. ‘I’m an explorer, you know? I like to take in the views.’

In Wirrin’s mind she could only have made herself clearer if she had said ‘I like to eat snow’, but she had the strong suspicion that Ketla would have no idea what either saying meant. She had the strong suspicion that Ketla would think it essentially heretical to know any language other than the Church’s.

‘If we were in a hurry, I would have hired a boat,’ Ketla said, with a very forced smile. ‘I’m sure I should appreciate the scenery more, myself.’

Ketla failed to appreciate the scenery more as they kept on up the river. She kept having to pause to let Wirrin catch up. She reminded Wirrin of the siblings starting out in the mountains, the way they balked at resting.

Except that Wirrin hadn’t expected to have to kill the siblings. She had expected to have to keep them safe and comfort them through their inevitable failure. That still seemed unfair, if Wirrin thought about it.

They walked later into the evening than Wirrin would have on her own, only stopping when Ketla found a little shrine by a stand of trees, decorated with carved flowers. Wirrin supposed they weren’t likely to find rest-stops dedicated to War out here.

As the mage went back and forth into the trees to collect fallen leaves and wood for the fire, Wirrin set up her pan to start cooking.

‘Am I allowed to ask what sort of training you’re doing in Hekaulseg?’ Wirrin asked of Ketla, who was not participating in setting up camp.

‘Oh, are you interested in the Church all of a sudden?’ Ketla asked, with a little smile, looking up from that same book she was still reading.

‘We don’t have to talk to each other if you don’t want to,’ Wirrin said, starting to add ingredients to her pan.

‘You have to promise not to poke fun, alright?’ Ketla said, closing her book and straightening up so that she was facing Wirrin.

Wirrin was struck again by just how earnest Ketla looked.

‘I can only do my best,’ Wirrin said.

Ketla frowned cutely. ‘Alright, I’ll take it.’

The mage heaved down a big armful of wood next to the fire, nodded to Wirrin, and sat down next to Ketla.

‘I’m sure you know already,’ Ketla started carefully. ‘The Churches in the South, from Tellen to Ettovica, have quite a lot higher attrition rates than most places in Nesalan.’

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Wirrin nodded, and resisted the urge to explain why that might be.

‘The Churches in the Desert don’t have quite as high attrition, but…’ Ketla paused and frowned. ‘It’s different, here, than it is in the South.’

‘Oh?’

‘In the South, most of the attrition is in attendance. As of two years ago, when I last read about it, attendance in Ettovica was down to only eighteen people a week.’

Wirrin nodded. ‘I understand that’s why they rebuilt the temple much smaller, after the five-hundred-year riots.’

Ketla’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, and you lived in Ettovica at that time, if I recall. Is that why you’re set against the Church?’

Wirrin wobbled her head as she cooked. ‘I’ll say it’s one of the reasons. The Church is very much viewed as being outsiders in the South.’

Ketla nodded. ‘And the riot didn’t help that. If I recall, attendance dropped from about three hundred to about one hundred over the change of that year.’

Wirrin resisted explaining it.

‘In the desert it’s… the opposite, I suppose,’ Ketla said. ‘Attendance fluctuates with the seasons, as it does everywhere. Sometimes people are too busy to attend, and if they’re working then it’s just as good, really.

‘But the consistent problem here,’ Ketla continued. ‘Is attrition of the clergy.’

‘And that’s not so in the South?’ Wirrin asked. ‘Is that because most of the clergy come from outside the South?’

Ketla did that cute frown again. ‘While that’s true, I don’t know that it makes much difference,’ she said. ‘Here, at least, most of the clergy are locals. Either from the coast or the desert.’

Wirrin nodded along. ‘But they leave quickly?’

‘They do,’ Ketla said. ‘Not everyone… once they’ve been working in the Churches here for more than about five years, the attrition rate is probably lower than the rest of Nesalan, but so few people stay that long.’

‘And you’re just coming up here now to try to do something about it?’ Wirrin smiled.

‘I think that was poking fun,’ Ketla smiled back. ‘We’re not the first to come here, or to Hekaulget or Hestagal, to work with the Churches on the topic. We’re just the ones doing it now.’

‘Is that your job, then?’ Wirrin asked. ‘Why you’re important enough to travel with a War mage? Because you work in retention?’

Ketla smiled at the mage. ‘I suppose so,’ she said. ‘I don’t really think of it that way. I… and don’t make fun, please…’

Wirrin shrugged.

‘I’m mostly a researcher,’ Ketla said. ‘I write edicts and instructions for all the Churches outside the South about ways to try to increase retention and make sure all the clergy and feeling good about where they are.’

Wirrin nodded along. ‘That sounds very dull to me,’ she said, with another shrug. ‘How often do you go out for training and the like?’

‘Oh, only twice since I’ve been in this position,’ Ketla said. ‘I used to go out much more, and do research on the ground. But… I don’t mind staying in.’

‘To each her own,’ Wirrin said. ‘The rice is nearly ready.’

‘Thank you for cooking, Wirrin,’ Ketla said. ‘And after we haven’t really gotten along until now.’

Wirrin shrugged again. ‘I enjoy cooking, you know,’ she said. ‘I expect you two to cook for me tomorrow, mind you.’

Ketla smiled and nodded, glancing at the mage. ‘At the very least, we’ll share some wine tonight, if you’d like some.’

‘After dinner, perhaps,’ Wirrin said, smiling back.

‘They’ll poison the wine,’ Naertral shushed.

‘Almost certainly,’ Wirrin thought. ‘Or perhaps tomorrow’s dinner. Depending how careful they’re feeling.’

‘You said yourself, Wirrin,’ Mkaer rumbled. ‘They’re the ones with the power.’

‘They were the ones with the power,’ Naertral cackled like fish jumping up a waterfall.

Wirrin served up three big meals of rice with spiced meat and vegetables.

‘If we’re asking personal questions,’ Ketla said. ‘Can I ask why you don’t believe in the Gods?’

‘I asked about your work,’ Wirrin said through a mouthful. ‘But you’ve got the question backward, as I see it. Why should I worship the Gods?’

‘I…’ Ketla frowned her cute frown. She really did remind Wirrin of the siblings, young and earnest, and ultimately plotting to kill her.

‘My mother was more religious, before the riots,’ Wirrin said. ‘We lived right near the Church.’

‘The Gods have done so much for us all,’ Ketla burst out. ‘There’ve been no wars, no famines, no disasters, for five hundred years.’

‘But what do they need me for?’ Wirrin asked.

‘I… well isn’t it just nice to appreciate them? To seek their grace and live a good life?’ Ketla kept on frowning. ‘They may not need us, precisely, but isn’t it only fair to appreciate the good they do for us?’

‘Why do you think the South is less religious?’ Wirrin asked. ‘So much less that almost all the clergy have to be sent in from the West or North.’

‘I…’ Ketla frowned deeper, which was cuter. ‘I understand the tensions that have been there since the war, I do.’

Wirrin shook her head. ‘I didn’t mean to be rhetorical,’ she said. ‘Think about it. As we see it, down there, the Church is only here to push us down. There have been no wars because the Church makes sure we’re all too weak to fight.’

‘But…’ Ketla shook her head furiously. ‘No. There have been no wars because the Fiends’ influence has been removed. There’s no need for us to fight each other when helping each other is so much more productive.’

Wirrin shrugged. ‘The first time I saw a mage was during the five-hundred-year parade,’ she said. ‘Before they attacked the crowd for chanting.’

Wirrin held up a hand when Ketla opened her mouth.

‘It doesn’t matter if the crowd attacked first,’ Wirrin said. ‘That’s what I remember seeing. But when I went to the West, at sixteen years old, there were mages all over. They helped on the farms, and on building and repairs in small towns. They healed the sick and injured.’

Ketla pouted.

‘My point is,’ Wirrin said. ‘In most of Nesalan, people don’t see the Church as a helping hand. The Church is just there, doing nothing. When you add all the tension in the South from the war, and all the oppression afterwards, it just makes things worse.’

‘So you think the Church should send mages into the South?’ Ketla frowned. ‘Wouldn’t that just set everyone off?’

Wirrin shrugged. ‘If you think we should all be appreciative of the Gods, think that there are some places with no evidence that the Gods are doing anything worth appreciating.’

Ketla pouted. She turned and reached into her bag and produced a red bottle of wine. ‘When there have been attempts to send more mages in, it always goes badly,’ Ketla said, pouring the wine into two glasses resting on the ground between herself and the mage. ‘Why wouldn’t it go badly this time?’

Wirrin shrugged. ‘The trouble is wanting to be in charge.’

The mage handed the wine over the fire to Wirrin as Ketla took a sip. Wirrin didn’t see the mage put anything in it, but she supposed that was the point of a War mage.

‘So the Church should leave and just give mages to whoever ends up in charge?’ Ketla asked, frowning like it was a genuine question.

Wirrin had never been much of a wine drinker, or an alcohol drinker at all. But even then, this was quite a nice, rich, fruity sort of wine. It was bitter and sour because wine is bitter and sour. Wirrin supposed it was probably a good way to deliver poison if the need arose.

‘It’s not poisoned,’ Naertral burbled.

‘I’m not much of a wine drinker,’ Wirrin said. ‘But this is quite pleasant.’

She took another sip.

‘It’s from my family’s vineyard,’ Ketla said.

‘Of course your family has a vineyard.’

‘Well? What do you think the Church should do, oh Wise Southern Elder?’

Wirrin took a third sip. ‘Ideally you would all just go back to Keredin and leave everyone alone,’ she said. ‘But taking the Church’s side. They should just turn up and be helpful. Don’t try to take over, just help. Then people might see that there’s something to be appreciative for.’

Ketla frowned. ‘I suppose that makes sense.’

Wirrin toasted her. ‘I’m very smart.’