Eastgate came into sight a few hours before sunset, and it was an hour again before the smoke and smudges grew close enough to see properly. The houses were ramshackle, huts more than anything else. From the low roofs and dirt walls, Sojo guessed they had dug down to firmer soil and used the rest as building material. Wood was only used to shore them to avoid total collapse, and besides that was saved for more important structures. The two largest buildings she could see from the outside were wood, most likely a municipal hall and somewhere renting rooms. Ambitious merchants had been known to send coin and materials along with expendable cousins to get established in the new communities.

What she didn’t see, however, was a wall. The worry grew as they approached. There was a wall, as it turned out, but not quite how she’d been expecting it. It seemed like the first settlers, likely with Scout assistance, had started an eight-foot high dirt wall around the village, but it had been coopted by the inhabitants as time went on.

If the stories they’d heard about the place were true, living couldn’t be easy. First one family would have decided to place their house beside the wall itself, and only have to build three sides for it. Then a few more decided to do the same, but wanted a way to get some light in during the day, and had dug some windows through it. No doubt a few weren’t familiar with dirt buildings – to be expected, as they weren’t common in a nation with largely forested lands – and had collapsed the wall as they dug for light.

The repair jobs were ugly, few reaching the previous height of the toppled section, and many were still slanted from the fallen debris. She could probably climb over in a half-dozen places, and go through just as many windows.

She exchanged glances with Mirrel and Eyn, each looking just as grim as she felt. Brehen was sleeping on the wagon, so at least he wasn’t bothered yet. She’d have to wake him up soon, but not yet. Let him take the rest he’d earned.

Details became clearer as they approached, but few were surprising. There were tilled fields surrounding the village, visible mostly by the furrows in the earth. No growing vegetation was thicker than the native grasses, and even that was getting thinner, the stalks dry and wispy, liable to snap off in your hand or underfoot. Their crops were the same. How often did the rains come this far out, she wondered. How deep must you dig for a well?

Deeper than the farmers had tried, she thought. By far, some cynical fragment added.

“Notice how little livestock they keep,” Eyn said, pitching her voice so Mirrel would hear. “I think we might have trouble convincing them to part with any water.”

“I can barter with some salt and spices,” Mirrel replied, “I stocked up at the earlier settlements. Spices might not work, if they truly don’t have deep reserves, but salt is never refused out of hand.”

Sojo’s eyes traced over the dirt huts, the neglected wall, and rested on the single trail of smoke wafting upwards. If that was the pulse of the community, it was thin and hesitant, liable to give in any minute. “I’m not sure even that’ll work, Mirrel. I don’t get the impression this place is well-run, or anything close to sustainable. They don’t have a well, nor a trustworthy harvest, they’ve been living on the supplies the Scouts brought them…”

She couldn’t find the words. Maybe she would be surprised by the community, find them hale and glad for the challenge the land posed. There were some, she knew, that desired nothing less than hardship and the will to overcome it. But looking at the holes in the wall, the disdain shown by each for their neighbours, she was far from filled with hope.

“Don’t leave the wagon, once we get inside. I’m not sure this meeting will be altogether friendly.” The pair nodded, and she saw a hint of steel in their gazes. They weren’t in love with hardship, but neither were they strangers to it. Sojo sighed. “I’ll wake Brehen.”

-

There was no gate to pass through, in Eastgate. Sojo glanced to the side, expecting to find evidence of a gate since scrapped for building materials, but there was only the edges of the walls. It seemed the place had been a misnomer from the beginning.

Despite their low expectations going in, the village was a disappointment. The haphazard arrangement of the buildings showed poor oversight indeed, with homes forcing the central avenue to zigzag in places. Others were askew to the road, corners butting towards the roadway, and had doorways facing half toward their neighbours. No stalls were set up with food for sale, no crafts set out to grab interest. Instead they found farmers leaving their crops to the sun, staring with hard eyes at the wagoners as they passed by.

They stopped in front of one of the two buildings that deserved the name. Sojo glanced at the crowd, and reminded herself to look confident. She walked towards the biggest cluster of people who’d come to see who they were. “Good afternoon,” she called out, “who’s in charge here in Eastgate? We’re hoping to trade some goods.”

The villagers exchanged glances and one stepped forward. He was the unlikely pick in Sojo’s eyes, very grimy from what she assumed was his work earlier that day. The rest weren’t particularly tidy, but if they weren’t in the middle of town she’d have expected him to be in the process of digging a fairly deep hole in muddy earth.

“I don’t think you’ll get much,” the man said. He looked the wagon up and down, but didn’t explain further.

“Is there nothing you’d need from us, then?” Sojo asked, already feeling frustration start to well up. She’d been worrying over this interaction all day, and it was immediately going sour.

“Oh, I’m sure we could find a use for everythin’ you’ve carted in,” the man said. The crowd shifted uncomfortably with his words. “The shame is that I don’t think we’ve anything to spare for barter. What was it you were hoping t’get?”

Mirrel walked over, and Sojo tensed reflexively. “I’ve got a pack of spices and salt that we could part with if necessary, but we’re running a little light on water. I don’t suppose you’d be able to find any you could spare?” Mirrel smiled, and scratched the back of his head. “I’m the cook of the group. If you could manage it, I could rustle up a meal. It wouldn’t feed a village, but I’m sure no one would complain about getting a bite of something with a little extra flavour. Might lift the spirits.”

Sojo tried to keep a neutral expression, but it was hard. Mirrel was actually sounding… reasonable. Normal. Something must be wrong. She glanced at him, but he just smiled a little and patted her on the back.

“Well, maybe then, if that’s all-”

“I didn’t catch the name,” Mirrel interrupted.

“Tom,” the man said.

“Good to meet ya, Tom. I’m Mirrel, and this is Sojo. Those two are Eyn and Brehen.”

“A pleasure,” Tom replied quickly. “I’ll have to grab Orik, he’s been in charge here the last few months. No one’s to take more than a daily ration from the cisterns without his say-so.”

“We’ll be here,” Mirrel said, and turned back to the wagon, arm still on Sojo’s shoulder.

Brehen had already put Sow and Fallow at rest, and was chatting with a couple of the villagers who’d come closer. Eyn was standing relaxed at his side, but Sojo noted that she kept him between her and the people.

Mirrel withdrew his hand quickly once they were back beside the cart. “Sorry about that,” he said, having the courtesy to look a bit abashed.

“That’s alright,” Sojo replied, “I just would have preferred a little warning. I didn’t realize you had that much civility in you,” she said with perhaps a touch more bite than she’d meant to.

“I’ve seen this kind of thing before,” he answered quietly. “These people are not well off. They don’t have a coin between them that feels like it could be spared. If you go in talking about trade, they’ll just feel out of place and upset. There was no way we’d get a re-supply of water without the justification of getting them some dinner, and better if you can make it a happy event.”

His smile was back, but she could see there was a little sadness in it too. Maybe that was why they’d recognized it so easily. “Do you want to take the lead then?” She asked. “It’s pretty clear you understand them better than I do.”

-

Dinner was indeed a happy event, with all the town turning out to get a taste of the exotic cooking. They also added a fair helping of bread and some slightly small field vegetables, making a decent meal. The folk seemed eager to speak with them, trying to get any news possible from their travels. Sojo had advised the group not to mention what their destination was; they feined interest in a settlement further to the northeast, not mentioning that the Scouts had thought it untenable.

But all too soon Mirrel’s cookpot was empty, and the crowd started to disperse back to their own homes. The sky was shifting to purple and getting darker by the minute. Sojo gestured to Brehen and Eyn to gather them over to Orik. The dusty man was still sitting beside the cookpot, even as Mirrel was cleaning it out, and watching the first stars appear.

“You mentioned there was some room in the communal hall?” Sojo asked. It took a moment for the man to return, his mind clearly still on some other winding path.

“Yep,” Orik said, “we’ve only got the one room open as our newer farmers ain’t been housed proper, but it’s yours for the night if you’d like.” He stood and stretched, groaning like an old man though he didn’t look older than forty. “I’ll show you the way, as soon as Mirrel here’s done.”

“Only a moment more,” Mirrel confirmed, sweeping his cleaning rag along the pot’s rim.

“I think I’ll sleep in the wagon, Sojo.” Eyn said. She leaned against the side of it casually. “If there’s just the one room you’ll all be comfier for it, and I always wake early with the sun anyways.”

“Perfect,” Sojo said, and nodded. Blatantly false too, but she didn’t comment on that bit. “Does the room have a window?” She asked Orik, as the group set off. “We’ll want to be going pretty soon after sunup.”

“That one there, for a fact,” he answered, pointing to a corner window of the wooden building. The hall was two floors, and the tallest thing in town because of it, but they were being settled on the ground floor. The closer she got, the happier she was about this, as the quality of construction left a lot to be desired. Quality, for a start, and right angles seemed conspicuously absent in many places too.

By the time they’d settled down, and bartered over who’d take the small bed for the night, she could see an uncountable splay of stars in the sky. From her spot on the floor she couldn’t see the roofs of any huts, just the implacable turning of the celestial veil. She hardly even noticed herself slipping off, relaxing inch by inch despite her misgivings, and the irritating press of a knife resting beneath her hip.

It wasn’t until hours later, in the dead of night, that she was woken by angry shouting and the appearance of the noonday sun.