Everyone alive has the makers, Luz said. Over enough time, the heavens will grow calm, and the earth will grow green, and clouded. Some of these stars that fall are water, only water. When the world is new, oases will go from horizon to horizon.

“Paradise,” Marak said. He had no idea why so beautiful a thought should batter at his heart and make him long for things less safe. But then the word came to him. “Freedom. What about freedom? ”

Freedom is relative, Luz said. Can you leave your world? Can you see the things I’ve seen?—I gave my freedom up for you, you damned ingrate! So did Ian! Appreciate the gift!

He laughed. He saw no humor in Luz’s situation, or in his, but still, he found a soul in the woman, and that was more than he had looked to find. The last that she said was true, and he believed it.

“You don’t like paradise, either,” he said.

For a moment the visions and the voices were utterly silent. The earth quaked, one of those small, frequent shudders, and was still again.

Your paradise is my hell, Luz said. And Ian and I have come into this hell to satisfy our consciences, because of what your Ila did, the fool.

There was another small pause, in which the wind was louder than thought, or than the slight whisper of Luz’s voice, and the earth remained unsettled. He was nearly awake, and sank back again.

In the vermin, you see the result of makers run wild. They breed too well. They die too seldom. They eat up the world, and every generation of makers grows more adept, and more clever at what it does. Her makers are very, very good at living.

But so are mine. Her makers would destroy her, given another five hundred years. Destroy her, and all she’s made. But mine will heal this world.

The wind battered at the tent. Something hit it, startled him, a piece of cloth, perhaps, or a loose mat. His heart sped. For the first time in many moments, he thought of Tain.

We do value you, Luz said. I tell you, we would deeply regret it, Marak Trin, if the hammer comes down before you get to safety. Get well. Sleep now, and get well.

“The hell,” he said.

He tried to move. Hati was there, washing his face with precious water, while somewhere in the distance, in the skies, something boomed and crashed.

“Hush,” she said. “You’re talking to Luz, but I don’t hear her.”

“She’s dividing us one from the other.” That they had all heard one thing had been a curiosity, and then a comfort to them in their madness, and they were losing that. The makers changed things. The makers themselves changed. Was that not what Luz said?

“Hush, you’re not making sense.”