“The mad heal well.” The voices rose nearly to a point of distraction, irate, and he fought stubbornly for his purpose. “I came up here to pay my proper respects, omi. I’ve had your help, the help of the Haga, the Rhonandin, when I rode back to settle with my father. They sent out four men, too, and lost them to Tain; and I owe them for those lives as well as for my mother. That’s four lives besides hers.” With the tribes, the tally of favors and grievances mattered: he was aware of that priority from days long before his dealings with Hati. “The Rhonandin were with me when I recovered my wife Norit’s daughter. Tarsa village had the child. The Rhonan helped me get her back, but I failed to find Tain. For my obligations here, I had every confidence in the an’i Keran, my wife. Nothing disappointed me, not her and not my in-laws. We’re growing short of water, but we’re not that far from Pori.”

Aigyan shrugged, a mirror of Hati’s gesture, an answer for a good many things: I accept what you say, whether happy or unhappy. “Give greetings to Menditak when you see him… if you haven’t.”

“I will.” That was a question, as much as a request to know which he had answered first, whether kinship or official precedence; and his answer, indicating that he had not yet seen Menditak, seemed to please Aigyan. The reasons Aigyan and Menditak had for making water peace might be broader and deeper than either admitted. They used their kinships. They moved in on them, and neither let the other have all the advantage. And they sat in power, now, both tribes. “Get us to Pori, omi. Beyond that, there’s a trail over the rim. There’s no mistaking our way. But water, first. The villages back there are stringing far back, and it’ll only get worse. No matter what the Ila does, no matter what you hear from the priests or anyone else…” The din in his head already debated him. “We’ve got to get to water.”

And Aigyan studied him, the madman, his relation-by-marriage. “Off the edge of the Lakht,” Aigyan said. No ruling tribe had ever left the Lakht, the center of their range. “To this tower in the middle of the lowlands. So we find this paradise, do we? Wish that water thief your uncle the peace of the day.”