club crashed down, not to dash out the powerless man's brains but to thud into the earth beside his ear.
The scarred hunter said something the old woman didn't catch as he handed the club back to the spearman, his face twisted with strange regret. He turned to the rest of the newcomers, spurning the powerless man grizzling at his feet with a vicious kick. Raising his voice, he told them firmly that if they wished to stay, they could. If they did their best for the village, then naturally they could share in whatever food or water they brought to the hearth. There was a catch in his voice as he acknowledged that this village had recently lost more people than it could easily spare in the fires that had swept through the grassy plain. Though no one living here had any interest in being subject to anyone who might claim to be a painted man, he said firmly. The village men and women voiced their agreement. Several of the newcomers looked anxiously at the sky as if they expected a beast to appear to avenge their leader's humiliation. None appeared. The scarred hunter looked as if he might have said more but shut his mouth resolutely instead.
One of the newcomers ducked his head submissively as he assured the scarred spearman that he would work hard for his food and water, and fight for this village besides, if he were to be trusted with a spear. The newcomer gazed down at the powerless man still huddled on the ground, his head hidden in his arms. Their painted man hadn't been able to slow the burning rock that had spilled from a fissure and consumed their village. Whatever he had done for them in the past, he had been helpless against this new calamity.
They had been walking for days, one of the women said angrily, and whenever they had asked him to use his powers to find them water or bring them food he had refused, saying they hadn't yet reached a place that pleased him. The powerless man whimpered.
The scarred spearman shrugged and said that if the newcomers wished to eat now, they should start working. The broad-hipped mother who had taken the old woman in stepped up beside him. Indicating salvaged gourds by the hearth, she suggested the newcomers begin by fetching water. Though it wasn't an easy walk inland, she warned, to find the point where the river still flowed rather than stood still and spoiled. All the other springs had dried up here as well.
One of the newly arrived women clutching a limp and dull-eyed baby to her breast fell to her knees, sobbing with gratitude. The old woman joined the rest of the village mothers as they welcomed the newcomers with assurances that the worst of their trials were over. The hunters paired off with the newly arrived men, some heading off to help rebuild the defences, others explaining how the lie of the land had been so dramatically changed. No one spared a second glance for the wretched man still lying in the dirt and keening softly, clutching one of his golden shells in his filthy hand.
What did it mean, the old woman wondered, if the painted men and women had truly lost their powers? And had the beasts gone for ever?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Kheda drew his hand back slowly, his eye fixed on the plump bird insouciantly probing the sandbank with its fine spike of a beak. He threw the stone hard and true and the bird fell in a flurry of feathers.
'Well done.' Risala gave a soundless clap from the slanted deck of the Zaise, careful of her splinted and bandaged wrist.
Kheda grinned up at her. 'You wouldn't care to go and get it, would you?'
She smiled down with a shake of her head. 'You shot it, you fetch it. I've done enough today carrying water.'
Kheda looked inland to the pit he had dug in the deepest channel that was still nonetheless as dry as a bone. At least there was water far beneath in the sand. And ironically, more water than they wanted was edging up the slope that the upheaval had made of the river mouth. The floods filling the grassy plain were slowly reclaiming the channels. His pleasure in securing fresh meat abated somewhat.
We 're not drinking that water, stagnant and tainted with whatever's rotting beneath it. And it's bringing far too many insects to bite us and that could lay us low with whatever foul fevers this land might harbour.
He tried for a reassuring smile as he turned back to Risala. 'Did you see anyone?'
'No one.' Risala sighed. 'Nothing alive bar a few new birds, those little striped lizards and far too many flies.'
'Those people who stayed back on the higher ground must have been safe,' Kheda said stubbornly. 'We saw smoke from a fire, didn't we?'
'Who's to say who or what lit it?' Risala glanced involuntarily over her shoulder. 'If you want to find that village again, you'll have to go and look for yourself.'
'I think we can wait until someone finds us, if someone risks those floodwaters. I can't see any easy path for us inland, not if we have those two to help along.'
It's no bad thing that the twists of this channel hide us from view from inland. I don't suppose those wild men and women would be too impressed if they came to us looking for help and found our vaunted mages wholly incapable. And I don't think any of us want to get entangled in their affairs again.
Kheda followed Risala's gaze towards the stern cabin. 'Is she trying to scry again?' he asked quietly.
'For the third time today.' Risala nodded, half-concerned, half-exasperated. 'I told her she should wait till tomorrow, or at least until after noon.'
'You don't imagine she'll listen, do you?' Kheda shook his head, resigned. 'How's Naldeth?'
Risala answered with a shrug. 'Still just sitting and staring at his hands.'
Kheda shook his head, frustrated. 'I wish he'd let me see what's happening under those bandages. Or take some poppy syrup. He must be suffering agonies.'
'You don't think he's afraid of how much it might hurt if you need to re-splint his fingers?' Risala suggested with a shudder.
Kheda gave another sigh. 'I'd better go and find that bird before green ants eat it.' He trudged over the dessi-cated sand and picked up the dead bird. Digging a shallow pit with the square end of the single hacking blade they still had between them, he gutted it carefully with Risala's dagger and buried the entrails. Pausing to wipe the sweat
from his forehead before it drew too many flies, he looked back at the Zaise, wedged in a curved hollow, masts broken, her deck a hollow ruin. Then he looked back out to the west. The ship rested high and dry an astounding distance from the sea.
What are we going to do if both wizards' powers continue to fail them? Risala and me are hardly going to carry theZaise over those exposed reefs and out to the sea between us. Though the ship's not going to be seaworthy, even if we could.
Retracing his steps, he threw the bird up to thud onto the deck and pulled himself up the dangling rope ladder. Sitting on the rail, he began plucking the bird, letting the feathers drift idly away to be lost on the steady breeze coming in from the distant ocean.
Risala studied him. 'What are you thinking about?'
Kheda continued stripping away feathers. 'Arrogance,' he said after a long moment. 'I keep wondering how I could have been so arrogant as to think I could just change what didn't suit me about this place, because I was a warlord and that's what I wanted.'
'It wasn't just you,' Risala protested quietly. 'They were at least as determined to work their will here.'
'And we all just dragged you along with us.' Kheda tried to rid himself of down sticking to the blood on his fingers.