But not that night. Nor on any night thereafter. That evening progressed on a tide propelled by the collective will of the village. At some point the music changed tempo, announcing the time of choosing had come. In an instant the new women swarmed in on the men, grabbing them by the wrist, shouting out their choices with voices and laughter. Aliver became the center of a swirling chaos of young beauties. Kelis himself was pulled in two different directions for a time, until one girl won the tugging match by grasping his tuvey band and swirling away with him. Benabe won Aliver, perhaps with the aid of his acquiescence. What a beauty she was then! Kelis could see it as clearly as any man. Aliver was as eager as she was, eager enough that he left the group at her urging, without so much as a glance of leave-taking to Kelis.

Perhaps that was the night Benabe conceived. Perhaps, while he made love to one woman, thinking of a man, that man planted the seed that would be Shen in another woman. Perhaps—if Thaddeus Clegg had not arrived soon after to recall Aliver to the fight that would eventually take his life—Kelis might have watched Aliver and Benabe wed and would have been near them as Shen entered the world and grew. He awoke with this thought, and during the few quiet minutes left before the others stirred he tried to believe he could have lived satisfied with that. And then he had a different thought.

Perhaps Shen is my daughter as well. That would explain why she scared him so, and why he already loved her more than his own life. For that was the truth. What he had said to Benabe was neither a comfort nor a vain boast. Though he had only known the girl a few weeks, it already seemed that protecting her was the single task of meaning in his life.

And then, with an abruptness that meant it took but a few minutes to descend to the plains again, the mountains ended one morning. The four travelers wove through the foothills and trod once more across a flat landscape, one devoid of shade, unpeopled, and as barren as the far south Kelis had first approached with Aliver years before. Even the hardy acacia trees were but stunted, infrequent versions of their normal grandeur. It was there that they came upon the man. Naamen saw him first and indicated it with a grunt. The group of four stopped and stared.

The man stood as still as a statue, garbed in a robe the same sand color as the land around him. He clasped his hands together at his waist and seemed to carry nothing, no supplies, no weapons or staff, not even a skin of water. He was hooded, but the sun reflecting off the sand lit his face from beneath. He stared straight at them, as if he had been waiting for them to arrive at just that spot on the world. Kelis raked his eyes across the landscape, searching for others, for signs that would explain the man. Featureless desolation stretched out in all directions. He focused on the figure again. Was he a mirage they were all seeing, a sign they had journeyed away from sanity?