The children in the lower yard were arguing about Iven’s arm.
One had tied six spoons to a strip of cloth and wound it around his sleeve. Another insisted the proper number was five. A third, older and more practical, said the argument was pointless because none of them had repaired a spoon.
Iven stopped at the water seller’s stall and listened.
The child with six spoons saw him first. His expression went from triumph to alarm so quickly that Iven had to work not to laugh.
“Which one heats the soup?” he asked.
The boy looked down at his sleeve.
“That one.”
“And which one keeps it from falling out?”
