“And you next the Ila’s men,” Marak said before Menditak could take umbrage at that, “and not less in honor. It takes two of you, setting aside water feud, to demonstrate to all the tribes how great-souled men can behave! One isn’t without the other! It takes you both, and both of you will have that reputation. Ever after this, whenever men talk about wise agreements, they’ll say, Like Aigyan and Menditak, after their example. You’ll become a proverb for wise men. You’ll put all the rest to shame, never yourselves.”

They hesitated. If the wind blew contrary, if a besha sneezed, if anything tipped the balance the other way, it was calamity. But the wind stayed still.

“My fathers,” Marak said, in the way of the tribes with other men, paying his respect. “We need you.”

“To Pori,” Aigyan reminded him. “And how do we move these city-bred fools?”

“As the tribes move. If men fall behind, they fall behind. Take the south road tonight and wait for me by the Besh Karat, do you know it?”

“As I know my own backside,” Menditak said.

“I trust you to know,” Marak said—whatever and any flattery to keep the peace. “I have to gather the Ila’s beshti. If anything should happen to me, leave, lead as many as you can keep alive and go to the village of Pori. Do you know a northern route? It’s safer.”

“It’s reputed there’s a northern track,” Aigyan said. “Our oldest may remember. If not, I can still find my way.”

“Ha!” Menditak said.

“Go for Pori, then east, down off the Lakht, east still, and ten marks off east to the south. There’s the refuge!”

“There’s nothing out there!” Menditak protested. He resisted the voices’ cry for haste. Resistance was all that gave him sanity.

“There is now. A second Descent.”

“And another Ila?” This was no good thing to the tribes. “Hell with that, sister’s weanling!”

“A rich land. Water. Palms thick as you please. It’s Oburan, before the city rose. It’s the heart of a new land, uncle, the heart of the people the tribes will supply with goods and trade. What have you left here? What will you have left, if the Lakht becomes a smoking waste—as it will! As it will, uncle! More than the mad have seen it now. All of you have seen what we warned you would come down, and now we tell you there’s a way to live, and live well, rich as the Ila, every one of you, if only you get there with the people’s gratitude. The people’s gratitude is better than gold, far more powerful. Live! Don’t despise what I tell you. The people need you now. Who else can we look to save us?”

“Flatterer!”