But after Hati had a talk with them, the men who courted Malin, the prostitute, vied with small favors, helping her down from her beast, carrying her mat, unrolling it as if she ruled the camp. Malin flourished, better served than many a wife, and Norit and Maol and the other woman, Jurid, frowned daggers at her, but Hati shrugged and carried her own mat and hauled her own saddle with a wry and amused look.

They had cooked meals with the sun-mirrors in clear weather. But they had lost their cook, among the dead slaves, give or take Hati’s occasional merciful intervention, and now the cooking changed: it was Tofi’s two women, Maol and Jurid, who provided the skill. They were profligate with the spices; and Marak thought it a great improvement.

He found leisure for such thoughts. In Hati’s arms and in Norit’s he was happy, and that, too, was a new thought. He discovered he had seldom been happy, in his life. He had never been free in his life. But now… he had no idea whether he was, or not.

He found himself looking at Hati during their rides simply for the pleasure the sight gave him. Norit was a fine woman, and a comfortable one, and he liked her despite her other qualities: if he had met her alone, in such circumstances, he might have declared he loved her. But Hati stirred something in him that had never waked to anyone. He found all her movements a fascination. He found every expression memorable, and she had so many. If Hati should leave their journey, he thought he would follow Hati rather than the visions… it was that potent a lure.

But because they shared the visions, they went together, and wondered together what they might come to.

“Do you suppose there is a tower?” Hati asked. “Or is it a spire of rock?”

“If it’s a tower, men built it,” he said. “And the stars are clearly the stars we follow. And what shall we find?”

“Great treasure,” Hati said expansively, with the wave of a hand toward the dark, “and we won’t go back to the Ila. We’ll be rich, and have fifty white beshti and lie on dyed cloth, under tents with gold fittings. We’ll have a hundred slaves to do the work, and we’ll eat melons twice a day.”

The au’it slept, gently snoring. It was safe to talk treason.

“We’ll grow fat,” he said, and asked Norit, who lay at his other side, “What would you have if you were rich?”

“A house with a vineyard,” Norit said, “and a fine bed with a mattress.”

“No slaves?” asked Hati.

“Oh, four. They can work in the vineyard,” Norit said, ”and every one of them will have a house and a good soft bed and wine with supper.“