The king was fatter than she expected, with a soft belly laugh that he used a lot. He was the urbane opposite of the near-mute Ara, who seemed to be trying to deconstruct the man with his eyes.

They all greeted each other formally, and then the artificer king gestured out to the island.

'Ready to see the temple?'

The rules of the contest forbid any other than the king, the challenger and the truth speaker from the contest. So the king waded into the warm, shallow water of the lake, dragging the boat with him. He held it, while the truth speaker and Ara splashed after him and got in; and then with surprising elegance for such a bulky man he jumped in. Ara and he picked up paddles, and off they went.

As they slowly drew away from the shore, it struck her how huge the lake was. She wondered if anyone had ever measured it, and if so, how. She could see a handful of lakeside towns dotted along the shore, one so far away she only knew it was a town from the smoke curling over it.

'It's big, isn't it?'

The king had obviously been watching her.

'Yes it is. Never thought I'd see it.'

'Never gets old, this journey. I've been challenged four times now. And you know what? I treat every time as if it was the last. I put everything in order, get a house ready to retire to, because I won't miss running this place. But this journey? This, I will miss.'

She took her pipe out, filled it, and then wondered how she would light it on the moving boat. She clenched the clay stalk between her teeth while she pulled out her flint and considered it, and then reluctantly began putting it away again.

The king turned his attention to Ara.

'So what did you do?'

Ara was paddling silently. He glanced at the king, and shrugged.

'I made a kite to hunt sand geese. That's why she sent me. But I make lots of things. I've built new waterwheels and carts and mills. All sorts.'

The kind nodded, slowly.

'All useful things, I am sure. And what is the most beautiful thing you have ever made?'

Ara looked at him, baffled. The artificer king laughed his soft laugh.

'Someone once told me that the thing that separates us from animals is the beautiful things that we leave in the world. I didn't believe him at the time. Now, I am telling you.'

They went on in silence.

The island was bigger than she expected. It was conical and jagged, and rose from the lake like a tooth or a spine. The ground was flinty, and there were very few plants. A group of bored water birds stared at them from the shore, before dismissively flying away in search of more interesting things.

'You'll need a hat,' said the king.

Ara silently took the wicker thing he had made a week ago in the forest, and pulled it onto his head. The truth seeker frowned, and pulled out a shapeless woollen hat from her bag and put it on. It felt odd, trudging through the late autumn sun in their thick hats. That is, until the first seed hit.

It landed on the rock with a crack, and split open. This was a signal to the birds, who dived down to the ground, fighting for the seeds that rattled and bounced around them. When they did hit her head, even through her hat, it stung.

'The plants above spit them out at this time of year,' shouted the King, over the racket.

'What are they called?' she asked, intrigued. 'What are they good for?'

'They don't have a name. They won't grow anywhere other than here.'

As they climbed higher, they started passing the plants, great spiny things with tubes facing down the island's sides. She could see the seeds come hurtling out, tumbling down the slopes, being grabbed by the shrieking birds. And, as they got higher she was able to see further over the lake, out to the forest, and then the desert; and then lastly the mountains beyond, pale blue triangles in the distance. She wondered what was beyond them.

'It was the previous artificer king, wasn't it?' asked Ara.

She didn't understand immediately, but the King replied.

'Yes it was. He told me on the way over, like I told you. We build things of beauty, Ara, and we lift everyone up. Of course we need to design better carts, new ways of irrigating, sharper tools. But they are lost in the flow of the river, forgotten as soon as they are used. The shiny pebble is what you see, even though the water is the thing that lets you live.'

Ara did not reply, but in her experience, that simply meant he was thinking.

You know, she thought, I might get away with a smoke. We seem to be above most of those blasted plants. A seed probably won't land in my pipe.

Smiling at that thought, she took it out.