The hammer rang once. A spark jumped off the anvil and did not go out. It waited. They followed.

The spark led them to a warm patch of grass. Then it simply waited there.

Warm wind blew the Green away, and the ground under their feet was somewhere else, the day before.

It was hot. The sand was pale gold. A wide brown river slid past, and palm trees leaned over it.

On the sand road lay the biggest statue Lan had ever seen. It was a man made of stone, taller than a house. It lay on a wooden sledge, a sort of flat sled with no wheels. One runner had split once and been mended with copper pins, and beside the mend somebody had scratched a tiny hammer. Long ropes ran forward from it. Lots and lots of people held the ropes.

A girl about Lan's age walked along the ropes with water jars. She gave each puller a drink.

"The boat leaves the landing at sunset tomorrow," said the girl. "The statue has to be on it."

"I know how to do it!" said Lan. "I read it in a book! I promise, you just..."

But the words came out wrong. They came out as a buzz, like a bee in a jar. Bzzz, bzzz.

The girl stared. Lan tried again. Bzzz.

Inkling pulled her sleeve. "I think it's the door," she whispered. "We can't bring the answer. We can only bring the question."

Lan's face went hot. She had been so sure.

The overseer shouted. Everyone pulled harder.

The sledge crept forward. Then it stopped. The people pulled until their arms shook. It would not move.

Lan looked at the front of the sledge. The sand had heaped up into a little hill, right in front of the runners. Every pull pushed the hill higher.

Inkling wanted to name it at once. But this time she waited.

"Why does it stop?" said Inkling. "What is the sand doing?"

She lay on her tummy and watched. The dry sand slid and tumbled. It piled up in front of the runner like snow in front of a spade.

"It's stuck because the sand keeps moving," said Inkling slowly. "I think. I'm not sure yet."

The girl hurried past with a big jar. She tripped. The whole jar emptied onto the sand, right in front of the sledge.

"Pull!" shouted the overseer.

The sledge slid! For one pull it slid. Then the soaked sand turned to mud. The runners sank, and the sledge stuck fast.

"Oh," said the girl. "Too much."

Inkling crouched at the edge of the spill.

Where the sand was soaked, it was mud. Where it was dry, a footprint crumbled. But in between, where the sand was only just damp, the girl's footprint was crisp. The sand held its shape.

"Wait, I can name it now," said Inkling. "I noticed something. Damp sand is firm."

The sun went down. The overseer said they would try again at dawn, with fifty more people.

"There isn't enough shade for fifty more," said the girl. "There isn't enough water."

Lan sat on the warm sledge. The boat would leave tomorrow. It felt hopeless.

At dawn, Lan did not try to tell anyone anything. She asked.

"Could you stand on the front of the sledge?" said Lan. "And pour a little water, just until the sand goes dark? A little at a time, as we go?"

The girl thought about it. Then she climbed up with a small cup.

She sprinkled. The sand went dark and firm. No hill heaped up. The pullers pulled, and the sledge slid. It slid and slid. They hardly needed half the people.

"Come on, quick, keep pouring!" said Lan. She was laughing.

The statue reached the landing long before sunset. The boat was waiting.

The girl poured one last cup of water at Lan's feet, for luck, and laughed.

Nobody would write down her name. But Lan knew she would remember her face.

Warm wind blew the day before away, and the grass under their feet was the Green.

On the side of the old anvil, there was something new. A small letter, scratched into the metal: D.

The spark dimmed to a warm dot and settled back on the anvil. The Green was just the Green again.

Back on the Green

In the sandpit, Tí could not drag his wagon. The wheels sank and the sand heaped up. Lan did not tell him what to do. She held out a cup of water and asked, "What if you pour a little in front?" He poured a little. The wagon rolled.

Tell the story back to someone. Why did the sledge stop? Why was a little water better than a lot?