As for Tofi, still mourning his father and his brothers, Maol and her friend among the three women took him as their special charge, a handsome, quick young lad, and in need of comfort. The third woman, whose name was Malin, seemed to have had a falling-out with the other two. She approached the soldiers, who tried to have nothing to do with her.

They broke camp at sunset and moved on, following the stars Tofi named.

Marak, the voices said, Marak, Marak, but they did not seem displeased. The voices still whispered-hourly now—and the visions still came, and he knew that Tofi’s guide stars were the same stars they had followed, the bright ones, to the east.

And if the morning and the evening pitched him east so reliably he never could have lost his way, so with all of them: they were not lost, nor dissuaded, and needed not have worried about knowing the way. The boy Tofi, who owned the beasts and the tents, was increasingly confident of their direction.

So was Hati, who with Norit shared his mat at night. Since the storm, he had no shame left in that regard, only hung a robe for a curtain, and so he heard two of the three women did, with Tofi, and together they got along.

But one of the three, on the outs with the women from the start, had set up to content various other men, and had them, two and three an evening, outside near the beasts, before they would get under way for the night, so he wondered whether the soldiers had been entirely at fault in the tent and who had started the business during the storm.

“Malin takes pay,” Hati said when he asked her opinion.

“What do they pay?” Marak asked, feeling like an innocent. There was none of the men rich in coin or bracelets.

“Food,” Hati said.

“They will not.” He was outraged. Taking part of a man’s ration weakened the man and strengthened a woman who by now had made her choice, and who, if prostitution was not her trade, might have revenge on her mind… or who, if it was, might become the object of revenge from the other women. “The hell! Tell them they may not use force. But they can’t use their rations, either. Let Malin choose what to do. Tell her let them win her favors.”

Marak, Marak, Marak, his inner voice said, impatient with him. He had more and greater worries than Malin.