The au’it went into the Ila’s tent. In a few moments, back came the au’it. Now their own au’it was on her feet, and the two of them put their heads together and talked in voices so soft as to be inaudible in the flap and shake of the nearby canvas as the slaves rolled it.

The Ila’s au’it went back inside.

In a matter of moments Memnanan came out to report the Ila was not pleased.

“But I have advised her that this move is necessary,” Memnanan reported. “I trust that it is.”

“Necessary now,” Marak said, prepared to be utterly obdurate, “and it will be necessary, every day for the next thirty to fifty days, regular as can be, and after that if we haven’t come to the tower, we may die out here, so there will be no further requests. Tell her she has to learn to sleep in the saddle. We all do. She may rule in Oberan, but she doesn’t rule the Lakht, or the heavens.”

“I certainly don’t want to bring her that advisement,” Memnanan said.

Marak was amused. “Then save it for a better moment. But we have to pack the tent. Good luck to you.”

“Long life to you,” Memnanan said dourly, and went back to bear unwelcome news.

The villages behind would doubtless learn, too, at what hour to be up and moving, or lose their priority in line.

Certain individuals, however, had been moving during the rest: a number of priests had found their way up the line, without tents or guides. They simply lay on their mats, and rested outside the Ila’s tent, exhausted, men afoot, traversing the line at need, mostly the Ila’s needs.

Marak regarded them uneasily. Since their chief priest had fallen dead beside the distribution of the aui’it’s books, they had no leader, so far as Marak was aware. The priests had waked, too, and were rolling up their mats, with no water, no food, no provision for the desert. And whether they followed the Ila, now, or had some way of consulting their own god for more obscure and divine messages, and immaterial sustenance, he was unwilling to have them underfoot.

More to the point, he was unwilling to have them taking up rations in the Ila’s camp.

Memnanan had come out again. “She will move,” Memnanan said.

“And the priests,” Marak said. “They should fall back and find some village who wants them. What do they intend to drink? Prayers?”

“Prayers,” Memnanan said. “And the Ila’s charity. Like the aui’it, they have their uses.”

“And their water needs.” Marak was far less convinced. “They’ll drink up half their weight in water and endanger the Ila. They have to be under someone’s authority.”

“I’ll speak to them,” Memnanan said.