“The desert has its dangers,” Memnanan said with a shrug, and that was the end of it: Memnanan showed no enthusiasm to send another man, and he would not ask it. So there was no answer about Lelie. There was no way to trace the man without risking another, and of the rumors that found their way up and down the line—of births, of deaths and calamities: vermin invading a village’s food store during rest, but they had not lost it all—for two more days there was no word, and they gave up hope. Luz was quiet, the au’it recorded little but the arduous routine of camp and cooking, and one tremor in the earth that lasted longer than any before. It did no damage, beyond the collapse of the soldiers’ tent and the disturbance of the beshti, who complained from camp to camp.

Escorted by two villagers, at the next morning, on a day of high wind and dusty haze, priests came into camp to seek the Ila, and failing her civil reception of them at this hour—wind had put out the small stove that heated the Ila’s tea, and she was indisposed—they came to Norit.

“Pesha village has lost two tents,” they said, speaking for two dour and mistrustful village men. “What shall we do?”

“Has Pesha lost its water and its food?” Norit asked, consulting no one, though Marak stood by and listened to this audience.

No, the man from Pesha insisted, and tried to present more of a case for being given tents from some other village. “We have elderly,” he said. “Our lord is an old man. We need the tents.”

Norit lifted a hand, as autocratic as the Ila herself. “If they lost two, give them no more to lose. Let them all go to other tents, and settle in the village behind them in line.”

Marak was astonished, and the Pesha villagers wildly outraged. It was a desert judgment from a softhearted village woman. And on that thought, Marak knew Norit had not made that choice.

“This isn’t just!” the men cried.

“The desert isn’t just. Those who lost two tents should have better leaders.”

“They have a book,” the priest said, over the protests of the villagers. “Shall they keep it? Or shall it also go to their hosts?”

“It should go to their hosts,” Luz said through Norit, but Marak thought it was Norit who added: “and the village lord should beg the pardon of Pesha village for losing the tents. He may be a wise man in his own village affairs, and he can command again after we reach the tower, where we’re safe, but he should leave pitching camp to those that kept all their tents, and thank them for keeping his safe.”

The priests and the chagrined villagers bowed and went away with their message.