Memnanan changed the subject. “Your arm has stopped bleeding.”

It was an inconsequence. Marak bent it, glanced at it, expecting what he would see, that the wound was dry before the blood was. The area had grown warm with fever, and would swell.

He had denied all his life that he more than healed quickly, foolish notion. Now he knew that what lived in his blood would keep him alive through far worse than this. It might be a disadvantage.

“The Ila will hear you again,” Memnanan said in leaving, “I’m relatively sure of it. Ask her about your relatives.”

“The people out there…” Marak began, and Memnanan stayed from letting the curtain drop between them. “Did she call them in, or did they come?”

“They came. When the misfortunes began, where else would they go, but Oburan? One village passed another on the road, from farthest west inward, from south to north. So the trickle became a flood. They’ve left most of their harvest in the fields. They’ve eaten most of their provisions. Now they deplete Oburan’s.” Memnanan divulged his own worries, the coming, undeniable privations. “We can hold out a while. This tower you saw… this green-sided river… can it supply all the people in the world?”

“I don’t know how many. It supplies a good many already. If she hears me,” he said. “If she listens, then we have that much chance. If she asks you, tell her that. I could have stayed there in safety. I chose to come here, for my mother’s sake, to rescue her, and anyone else I could.”

“And the Ila?”

“I made her a promise. I’m here. I came back.”

“So you did.”

“Is she disposed to listen?”

“The earth shook. Everything came down. I don’t know what her disposition is. But you were right in what you guessed. And the woman said far too much.” Memnanan had already told him far too much, himself. Memnanan let the curtain drop and left him to the servants.

“Omi,” they said, and came with their basin, and poured clear water over him, and washed his hair.

“I can wash myself!” came from beyond a curtain, and his spirits lifted. Hati was not threatened, or bullied. Hati was Hati.

It was Norit he could not account for. He knew that Memnanan was right, that Norit was deeply at risk. He saw no way to help her, more than he had already done, and had a slashed arm to show for it. He could argue with the Ila for Norit’s life. He might have his way, if the Ila wanted the things he had to offer.

But what stopped Luz? What prevented Luz making things worse?