One, two, three,
One, two, three,
One, two, three,
One, two.

And for the lower region .. One, two, four, six and two.


Good practice makes good skill.

Curses. She has her hands full just keeping track of where everything is; dealing with people is supposed to be Oskeli's thing.

But needs must.

She sort of ... tugs on the skill he's developed, to move things in formation, although she couldn't explain quite how, except perhaps to another prophet (or perhaps a genie). Like remembering how to use muscle memories she's never had call to be the one to use.

Her sand grains are more tightly controlled, less prone to fall out of formation — but also move more hesitantly, at least until she gains her stride.

She taps back — two sixes and four.

And the upper region picks up Eeferi's pattern, pauses, and then challenges with one of its own:

two, three, five, six and one.

Two sixes and four? How about five sixes and two.

Two, three, five, one six and one .. for all their years lived, Eeferi hasn't been exposed to much in the way of deeper truths. But not much is not zero, and with enough time many strange ideas can be found. They pause, for one moment, two moments, almost three moments..

One six and five. Two sixes and one. Two sixes and five. Three sixes and one.

Bardamma mentally snorts at the idea of sitting here tapping their mysterious interlocutor — so much as this could be called a conversation — a whole six sixes and four sixes and four times.

She nudges the thought to Oskeli's attention. "Do I really have to?"

Oskeli continues the sequence of primes another few terms and then switches to trying powers of three.

He sends back the sensation of a shrug. "Of course not. But I think they're trying to ... give us practice, probably, or maybe confirm how well we've put things together. I don't really know — it's strange, being a genie, so I can't really guess what they're thinking very well. We might as well go with it."

"This is like being a merchant all over again, the math," she grouses, tapping back.

She thinks of what else they could do, other than tapping. Or, well ...

She tries doing six fast taps and then six slow taps in a cycle.

Powers of three are easy enough to respond to in kind with.

Ooh, rhythm.  First a repetition [six fast six slow] and then a followup [three fast six slow three fast].

She's momentarily confused by the jump in the pattern, but it's easy enough to follow along.

Minutes later, but not many.

"Are you alright?" Satenag asks after a moment.

Eeferi considers a half-mad, rambling speech, reveling in their freedom.

They consider giving no reply at all, on the grounds of the sheer opportunity.

.. Both of those are strident emotions, but they can wait.

"I'm not, and I don't know if I'll ever be, but I'm able to be better now than I ever was, before.  Thank you."

Satenag is struck by the sincerity in their voice. She nods.

"It was the right thing to do, and I'm glad to have done it," she replies.*

She looks out over the other villagers, who are putting themselves together after that display.

"And I think I can safely speak for everyone when we say how extraordinarily grateful we are to have met you. I think it is true, without exaggeration, that your help and advice may be the single most valuable thing that has ever existed in this world. They may not have been, without the wishes. But ... the wishes were not really yours to give. The advice was, and your gift of it is beyond anything we could hope to repay."

There's a chorus of acknowledging clicks.

*Translator's note: This is a quote from a traditional ballad about an insurance claims adjuster who refused to falsify her reports, even when her family was threatened by the ballad's villain. Due to her report, additional disaster relief was available to an area which had suffered a wildfire. When the occupants of the area thanked her in front of the court, she was put in an unintentional bind: to refuse to acknowledge them would be an insult; to say that they were welcome would be implying that she had done anything beyond her duty, and therefore cast doubt upon the report. Her response has become the traditional response for such circumstances.

The figure bows their head.

"Someday, you may wish you had not, but it seems to me now you have avoided the worst of it."

".. I suppose I should ask .. what now?"