Rial did not move from his bedroll the entire time Brin was away. The fear he felt at being there alone, at being entrusted with the treasure in such a threatening place, kept him frozen.

He tried to look relaxed, lying down upon the bedroll with his pack behind his head and the cloth-wrapped object close to his side,[1] but he found himself trembling and unable to lie still. He sat up instead and pawed through his pack as if in search of something, though there was nothing he needed.

The others in the dormitory had lost interest in him, it seemed, but with every person that stood up to leave or that entered the room Rial felt his muscles tense and blood pound.

Maybe not everybody had lost interest, however.

Rial jolted back in alarm as he realised someone was directly beside him.

A white-bearded old man was looking him square in the face from the bedroll next to his. He must have been lying there unnoticed the entire time.

His face was so wrinkled it resembled the ancient maps of the mountains that hung on the pagoda walls,[2] and his blue eyes were cloudy with cataracts.[3]

“First time on the plains is it?” said the man, sitting up.

His voice was crackled but bassy, intonation and accent a strange, staccato rhythm Rial had never heard before, and he spoke with an unusual structure of words. The man laughed at Rial’s fearful expression.

“Always easy to spot one of your lot when they come down here. You have that wide-eyed look of a rabbit caught by a hungry khiladri. Come for the markets, is it?”

As far as Rial could tell the old man appeared to lack ill-intent, and he forced himself to calm down, if not relax.

“Your lot were here only recent, though. Odd, don’t usually come down again so soon.”

So this man knew the village? Rial felt comforted by the fact.

“This is a… special trip. We need some more…”

“Oh-ho, you’re gon' lie to me, are you boy?” laughed the man, tossing his head back in mirth.

Rial’s mouth clamped shut.

“Easy to tell when one of you tries to bluff – haven’t got an ounce of guile amongst the lot of you. Well, except that old fiery fellow. That’s why he does the barter,” said the old man.

Rial wondered if he meant Brin.

“You know Brin?” Rial asked.

“’spect you’re wanting to go out and see the place, eh?” continued the man, speaking over Rial’s question. “Got a show on in the morning, maybe you’ll get to watch it.”

“A show?” Rial was now thoroughly lost.

“’s right, boy, a show. Gonna string a man up ‘til he’s dead, aren’t they? Not far from this tavern, neither.”

“An execution?” asked Rial. “What did he do?”

“A nasty business, this one,” said the old man, clearly enjoying himself. “Fella killed his own blood. Stabbed his little boy and cut his dear wife’s throat.”

“What?” Rial gasped. “Why?”

“Don’t have to be a reason, do there? These is nasty times we’re living in. Get worse every year,” said the old man. He gave the impression that he for one was delighted with the fact.

It must have been no more than an hour that Brin was gone but Rial breathed a sigh of relief when he walked back in.

“Ah, I see you’ve met Hamist. Careful, he’ll try to make you piss your pants,” said Brin as he walked over.

Hamist greeted Brin as an old friend, grasping hands in the custom of the plains.

“Did you eat?” asked Brin, pointedly ignoring Rial’s shaken state.

Rial shook his head, inwardly telling himself to act like an adult.

“Very well, then let’s eat together. Take our stuff, it may be safe here but it is never wise to leave anything unattended. Sorry Hamist, I will speak with you later but for now I need to talk to the bo… to Rial.”

Rial felt pride that Brin took care of how he referred to his companion in front of the old man.

The two headed down into the common room, where Brin ordered the both of them a surprisingly good meal of meat and vegetables.[4] They didn’t speak much, but Brin did inform Rial that they would be waking before first light the next morning. He wouldn’t be drawn on where they were going.

“Can I ask you a question, sir?” said Rial after a good time of silence.

“Brin, boy, Brin. We’re not in the compound here, and you’ve called me it before,” he said, smiling.

“Can I ask you a question, Brin?”

“Go ahead,” Brin replied, polishing off the last morsel of his meal.

“You knew Hamist was there, didn’t you? That’s why you felt confident leaving me alone.”

Brin put down his cutlery and looked at Rial.

“Yes, boy, I did know he was there. He likes to put on his little act. But that’s not why I felt confident. Any other person from the village, if they had encountered that twisted old man by themselves, would most likely have tried to run. They certainly wouldn’t have tried to lie about the reason we’re here.”

Rial wondered when exactly Hamist had communicated that information to Brin. It seemed what had happened was a regular custom.

“Why did you try to lie to him, Rial?” asked Brin.

Rial thought hard.

“Because… because I didn’t know who he was nor who he might be working with. I didn’t want to jeopardise our friends.”

“Very good, Rial. That’s exactly how you should think out here. Listen…” and Brin leaned in towards him, “…the village has been the same unchanging well of tradition and habit for gods know how long, and it’s made a lot of us naïve. Too trusting, too willing to believe the best of others. You need to be sceptical, to be questioning, to be a suspicious bastard to get along out here.”

Brin leaned back, an even wider smile on his face.

“The amount of things you don’t understand is huge, boy, but you’ve got the right outlook. Maybe you could lead a trek yourself, one day.”

Rial felt a curious mix of pride and chagrin at the veiled compliment,[5] then a thought came to him.

“Does that mean I should be suspicious of you too, Brin?” he asked.

The question had been meant in jest, but the instant it was out Brin’s face collapsed into a dour, dark look, all humour drained. There was a tense silence for a few seconds.

“I told you, boy. Don’t trust anyone out here.”

Brin dropped his cutlery to the table without care, then stood up and walked away.

Rial sat there stunned for a while until he made the only decision he could and followed, up to the dormitory.

Brin was talking in a low voice with Hamist when he entered, a conversation that ended as he approached. Brin made no mention of what had passed downstairs, but as they bid each other goodnight Rial could sense a tension in the air.

He fell into a fitful sleep, worries and fears sleeting across his mind.

[1] But not too close, he prayed.

[2] These depictions of the mountains from above were considered to be yet another treasure of the village.

[3] Blue eyes were a rarity in the village, though not unknown. Far more prevalent were hazel and brown, tinged with violet.

[4] Rial couldn’t have said what meat or what vegetables, and he decided it was probably best not to think about it

[5] Or was it a veiled insult? He’d be worrying about it for hours