“It’s Luz in her,” Marak, appealing to the Ila, for fear what consequences Norit might suffer. “The body is only Norit. She’s an honest woman, a shy, gentle woman… she’d never say what Luz said. She wouldn’t know how to answer you.”

“And are you Marak, and only Marak?”

He had never wondered. It was a terrifying question. “As far as I know.”

“And this?” The Ila gave a wave of her gloved hand toward Hati.

“Hati. An’i Keran. She knows the desert. She knows the way to the tower as well as I do. She helped me reach Oburan.” He had no idea of the Ila’s motives in asking, or her intentions afterward, and had no idea whether it was better for Hati to be important or invisible, but now he had no choice. “Out on the pans we’ve seen two storms on the way. Stars fall in their thousands. We passed places where they make pits in the sand. We saw rain, on the Lakht. Luz said the world would change. And it’s changing all around us. The earth is shaking. The storms are like nothing anyone’s ever seen.” He had trouble thinking of the wreckage the other side of these canvas walls, but it was all around her: how could she be ignorant of it? “She says we’re almost out of time. That something worse is coming.”

“I trust all the things you saw on your journey are in the au’it’s book,” the Ila said with a glance at their au’it, and the au’it nodded slightly. “So. I will read them at my leisure.”

“Everything we saw in our visions,” Marak said, desperate for time to make his point, such as it was, “everything we saw came true. All the mad had the same visions. And now we three, Hati and I, and Norit, as far as I know, we’re the only ones who see visions beyond those. We see rings of fire, spreading over villages. But if we come to the tower, Luz claims she can keep everyone safe there. I don’t know what the truth is. I don’t know who’s right. I told you I’d come back, and I came back, and I’ve made my report, such as I can. I don’t know what’s right.”

“Come here,” the Ila said, beckoning, and beckoning twice called him forward, and forward again, and a third time, until he stood face-to-face with her.

The earth shivered under them, a little tremor, the like of which happened hourly.

“Lay your hand here,” the Ila said, and indicated the arm of her chair.

He by no means trusted he would be safe to do that. Yet he did. Within her place of power, the Ila’s directions were the only safety at all.

“Captain,” she said, holding out her hand to the side. “Your knife.”