“In most cases yes,” her father agreed. “But greed spreads its wings and travels far and wide throughout this land. It looks like it has reached even this backward village.”
With a brief glance around them, Tarim opened the huge door that in itself seemed more protective than the gates at the village wall. It swung open on silent hinges that were obviously well looked after. The entrance hall was narrow with a high ceiling. The walls were painted a garish shade of yellow, and as they walked through they saw pictures of quiet rural life strangely interspersed with violent battle scenes. As they passed an iron spiral staircase, one such picture drew Zya to a halt. When Tarim noticed his daughter had paused he stepped back to see what had caught her attention. She stood rooted to the spot, t
