Eshra’s brother had planted beans above the buried pipe.
The rows stood straight between low reed fences. A child was picking beetles off the leaves into a cup. When she saw Eshra, she ran to the house, leaving the cup on the path.
“Don’t step there,” Eshra told Iven.
He moved his boot away from the beans.
Her brother came out carrying a hoe. He was taller than she was, with the same broad hands and a narrow scar down the bridge of his nose. He looked from her to Iven and lowered the hoe’s head to the ground.
“What’s he for?”
“Looking at the pipe, Dovel.”
“You could have asked.”
