“Child, sleep soundly in my arms. Nothing can harm you here. Dream of springs rich in water, Dream of palms of shade and fruit. Dream of fields gold with grain. Dream of cool breezes. Our house is shut against the night. Our door is strong, our shutters tight. Stars are brightly shining.”

A star exploded on the horizon while she sang. The explosion lit the sky like a northern sunrise, so bright the column cast shadows.

A wind came after that and ran up the beshti’s backs, a wind from off the Anlakht, where the blow had struck, but it did no harm.

At dawn, the au’it began to write, and wrote and wrote, furiously, fighting the pages flat in a light breeze.

At midmorning Norit suffered another fit, and Marak was quick to seize her rein again and bring her under tight control.

The rocks that broke the horizon were those of Pori, that height which poured out the water.

East, east, east, the voices said, maddening, frantic, and he could no longer believe that Luz was blind and deaf to their situation.

“I’m going ahead,” he said to Hati. “I’m going to have a look.” He no longer took responsibility for Norit: she was in Luz’s hands. But they were close enough to see the landmarks, and he had his strength, Hati her keen eye for situations on the Lakht, and for the lives of all of them, he could no longer ignore the two-way pull on his instincts. It was another day to the descent, another waterless day, with no water at the bottom of a climb that was itself bound to cost lives, and the villages’ strength was surely running out. They needed to camp. Pori would let them recover their strength for the descent, gather into a large mass and pass instructions before the descent: and if Pori village was already gone, there was still the water. There was a stone cistern. There was surely that.

He rode forward, Hati riding beside him, and they paused only to let Aigyan know his intention.

“What of Tain?” Aigyan asked. “What of ambushes?”

It was possible Tain had gotten ahead of them. That was always possible. It was possible for the rest of their lives.

“We have a premonition,” Hati said, “and we need to know where we’re leading, omi. We need to be sure about Pori. We’ll go and be back before noon camp.”

“Not without escort,” Aigyan said, and named two men and two women to go with them, men and women of Hati’s kind, dusky-skinned and wrapped in the dark-striped robes of their tribe, two of them with rifles.