My days passed by with my wound being dressed and my mind lost in deep contemplation. Though my hosts insisted that I needed rest to recover, idleness felt like torment to me. When one is left unoccupied, the mind delves into its deepest corners, and thus, the darkest questions begin to arise.
What exactly was this Whaley that had brought me here? Was my arrival a mere coincidence, or was it a deliberate act? Had I been given a purpose, or was it simply the winds of fate that had carried me from my former land to this strange new place? The way my smart assistant, Siri, worked in such harmony with my mind made me wonder how far I could push its limits. If I had lived in a world where technology was almost on par with magic, perhaps adapting would have been far easier. But this world was different. Here, everything was earned through effort, toil, and time.
My hosts would wake with the first light of dawn, hurriedly have their breakfast, and immediately set about their tasks. Daneel would chop wood in the crisp morning air, tend to the animals, and clean the pen. Arwa, on the other hand, would take care of the vegetable garden, gather herbs to dry for the winter, and at times, prepare remedies for the sick. Our days followed a familiar rhythm, each much like the last.
Arwa would occasionally receive visitors. The sick, weary travellers, or expectant mothers would seek her guidance and treatment, for she was known as Mother Healer. It was clear that she was an exceptional healer. I was curious about the mixtures she gave her patients, the dried herbs she used, and the techniques she employed. Instead of money, she often accepted goods in exchange for her services—baskets filled with fruit, dried meat, or the black-feathered, deep-voiced water hens known in the region.
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However, I could not bear to remain idle in such a structured life. While my hosts busied themselves with their tasks, the thought of sitting around aimlessly did not sit well with me. My own family had taught me that a man could only be truly free through work. Now, here I was, in the presence of such generous people, and I felt I should at least do my part.
One morning, Arwa left to assist a village woman in childbirth. That meant only Daneel and I remained in the house. The old man had already spent the morning chopping wood and tending to the animals.
“Daneel,” I said, “I don’t want to sit around idly any longer. I feel well enough and would like to do something useful. Is there anything I can help with?”
The old man considered my words. At first, he seemed reluctant to assign me a task, but upon seeing the determination on my face, he changed his mind.
“Well then, lad, since you’re keen to be of use, I do have a job for you,” Daneel said. “This house is built of adobe and has sheltered us for many years. But adobe houses, much like people, age over time and need repairs. The roof has developed some holes. Autumn is here, and soon the rains will come. If we don’t seal those holes, water will seep in, and we won’t be able to keep the warmth in.”
“As we repair the adobe, I’ll show you how it’s done. It’s a good skill to learn—you never know when you might need it.”
“I’ve never repaired an adobe house before,” I admitted. “But I’m eager to learn from you.”
“Good,” Daneel nodded. “To fix adobe houses, we need a special mortar mix. I need to gather the necessary materials for it. Stay here for now. It might be colder outside than it looks, but I won’t be long.”
With that, he stepped out, leaving me by the fireplace. As I sat there waiting, I realised once again how little I truly knew about this world. And yet, the prospect of learning something new stirred a sense of excitement within me.
