So he sat in the hot shade of the southern cliff, knowing that he would have at most an hour of rest before the sun rose high enough that the shade would disappear, and he would have to move. That didn’t really bother Elemak—in fact, on his caravans he had counted on that to awaken him, so that he didn’t sleep overlong during the day when they rested at oases. What made him so angry that he felt it like a pain in his stomach all the time was the fact that it was all so useless. They were not traveling, they were merely waiting here in the desert—and for what? For nothing. The Oversoul said that Basilica would be destroyed, that the world of Harmony was going to collapse in war and terror. It was laughably unlikely that any such thing would happen. The world had gone forty million years without being devastated by war. Now, for the first time, two great empires were on the verge of collision, and the Oversoul was treating it as if it were some cosmic event.

  I could have understood leaving Basilica, he told himself, if we had taken our fortune with us and gone to another city and started over. What was vital in the plant trade was the knowledge inside Father’s and my heads, not the buildings or the hired workers. We could have been rich. Instead we’re here in the desert, we lost our entire fortune to my half-brother Gaballufix, and now Nafai has murdered him and we can never go back to Basilica again, or if we did, we’d be poor so why bother?

  Except that even poverty in Basilica would be better than this meaningless waiting out here in the desert, in this miserable little valley that barely supported the troop of baboons downstream of them. Even now he could hear them barking and hooting. Beasts that couldn’t decide whether to be men or dogs. That’s exactly what we are now, only we didn’t even have the sense to bring mates with us when we left, so we can’t even form a reasonable tribe.

  Despite the arrhythmic noises of the baboons and the occasional snorting of the camels, Elemak soon slept. He woke moments later, or so it felt; he could feel the burning heat of the sun on his clothing, so he assumed that the sun had wakened him. But no, it was something else; there was a shadow moving near him. With his eyes closed he thought of where his knife was and remembered how the ground was near him. Then, with a sudden rush of movement, he was on his feet, his long knife in his hand, squinting in the bright sunlight to see where his enemy was.

  “It’s only me!” squeaked Zdorab.

  Elemak put away his knife in disgust. “You don’t come up silently when a man is asleep in the desert. You can get yourself killed that way. I assumed you were a robber.”

  “But I wasn’t all that quiet,” said Zdorab reasonably. “In fact, you were noisy yourself. Dreaming, I expect.”

  That bothered Elemak, that he had not slept silently. But now that Zdorab mentioned it, he remembered that he had dreamed, and he remembered the dream with remarkable clarity. In fact he had never had such a clear dream, not that he remembered, anyway, and it made him think. “What was I saying?” asked Elemak.

  “I don’t know,” said Zdorab. “It was more of a mumble. I came up here because your father asked to see you. I wouldn’t have disturbed you otherwise.”

  It was true. Zdorab was the consummate servant, invisible most of the time, but always ready to help—even when he was completely incompetent, which was usually the case here in the desert, where the skills of a treasurer were quite useless. “Thanks,” said Elemak. “I’ll come in a minute.”

  Zdorab waited for just a moment—that hesitation that all good servants acquired sooner or later, that single moment in which the master could think of something else to tell before they left. Then he was gone, shambling clumsily down the shale slope and then across the dry stony soil to Wetchik’s tent.

  Elemak pulled up his desert robe and peed out in the open, where the sun would evaporate his urine in moments, before too many flies could gather. Then he headed for the stream, took a drink in his cupped hand, splashed water into his face and over his head, and only then made his way to where Father and all the others were waiting.

  “Well,” said Elemak as he entered. “Have you learned everything the Oversoul has to teach you?”

  Nafai glared at him with his typical look of disapproval. Someday Elemak knew he’d have to give Nafai the beating of his life, just to teach him not to get that expression on his face, at least not toward Elemak. He had tried to give him that beating once before, and he had learned that next time he’d have to do it away from Issib’s chair, so the Oversoul couldn’t take control of it and interfere. But for now there was nothing to be gained by letting Nafai’s snottiness get under his skin; so Elemak pretended not to notice.

  “We need to start hunting for meat,” said Father.

  Elemak immediately let his eyes half close as he thought of what that meant. They had brought enough supplies for eight or nine months—for a year, if they were careful. Yet Father was talking about needing to hunt. That could only mean that he didn’t expect to get anywhere civilized within a year.

  “How about shopping for groceries in the Outer Market,” said Meb.

  Elemak agreed wholeheartedly, but said nothing as Father lectured Meb on the impossibility of returning to Basilica any time soon. He waited until the little scene had played itself out. Poor Meb—when would he learn that it’s better to remain silent except to say what will accomplish your purpose?

  Only when silence had returned did Elemak speak up. “We can hunt,” he said. “This is fairly lush country, for desert, and I think we could probably bring in something once a week—for a few months.”

  “Can you do it?” asked Father.

  “Not alone,” said Elemak. “If Meb and I hunt every day, we’ll find something once a week.”

  “Nafai too,” said Father.

  “No!” moaned Mebbekew. “He’ll just get in the way.”

  “I’ll teach him,” said Elemak. “For that matter, I don’t imagine Meb will be worth anything more than Nafai at first. But you have to tell them both—when we’re hunting, my word is law.”

  “Of course,” said Father. “They’ll do exactly what you tell them, and nothing more.”

  “I’ll take each of them every other day,” said Elemak. “That way I won’t have to put up with their arguing with each other.”

  Mebbekew glared at him with loathing—so subtle, Meb, no wonder you were such a successful actor—but Nafai only looked at the carpet on the floor of the tent. What was he thinking? No doubt conniving to find some way to turn this to his advantage.

  Sure enough, Nafai lifted up his head and spoke solemnly to Elemak. “Elya, I’m sorry I’ve given you cause to think that’s what I’d do, if you took Meb and me at once. If having us both come at once would be more efficient, I can promise I’ll not say a word of argument, either to you or Meb.”

  Just like the little sneak, to make himself look so pious and cooperative, when Elemak knew that he would be snotty and argumentative the whole way, no matter what he promised now. But Elemak said nothing, as Father quietly praised Nafai’s attitude, then told him that Elya’s decision would stand. They would go hunting with Elya one at a time. “You’ll learn better one on one, I assure you,” said Father.

  At times like this Elemak almost believed that Father saw through Nafai’s righteous act. But it wasn’t so; in a moment Father would go off talking about what the Oversoul wanted, and then he and Nafai would be as thick as thieves.

  Thinking of thieves made Elemak remember how Zdorab had wakened him a few moments ago; and thinking of waking up reminded him of his vivid dream. And it occurred to him that it might be amusing to play Nafai’s game, and pretend that his dream was some vision from the Oversoul. “I was sleeping by the rocks,” said Elemak into the silence, “and I dreamed a dream.”

  Immediately all eyes were on him, waiting. Elemak sized them up under heavy-lidded eyes; he saw the immediate joy on his father’s face, and was almost ashamed of the sham he was going to play—but the consternation on Nafai’s face and the utter horror on Meb’s made it well worth doing. “I dreamed a dream,” he said, “in which I saw all of us coming out of a large house.”

  “Whose house was it?” asked Nafai.

  “Hush and let him tell the dream,” said Father.

  “A kind of house I’ve never seen before. And we didn’t come out alone—the six of us, all six of us, each came out with a woman. And there were two other men, each with a woman as well. And many children. All of us had children.”

  There was silence for a long moment.

  “Is that all?” asked Nafai.

  Elemak said nothing, and the silence resumed.

  “Elya,” said Issib. “Did I have a wife?”

  “In my dream,” said Elemak, “you had a wife.”

  “Did you see her face?” asked Issib. “Did you know who she was?”

  Now Elemak felt truly ashamed of himself, for he could see that Issib believed that this was a true vision, and for the first time in his life it occurred to him that poor Issib, palsied as he was, nevertheless yearned for a woman as any other man might yearn, and yet had no hope of finding one who would want him. In Basilica, where women had their pick of men, it would be one piss-poor specimen of womanhood who would choose a cripple like Issib for a mate. Even if he ever managed to have sex, it would be because some jaded female was curious about him—especially with his floats, that might interest some of the more adventurous ones. But to mate with him, to bear him children, to give him father’s rights, no, that wouldn’t happen, and Issib knew it. Which meant that by telling this dream, Elemak wasn’t just manipulating Father, he was also setting Issib up for cruel disappointment. Elemak felt like shit.

  “I didn’t see her face,” said Elemak. “It probably didn’t mean anything. It was just a dream.”

  “It meant something,” said Father.

  “It means Elemak is ridiculing us,” said Nafai. “He’s making fun of us for having visions from the Oversoul.”

  “Don’t call me a liar,” said Elemak softly. “If I say I dreamed, I dreamed. Whether it means anything, I can’t say. But I saw what I saw. Isn’t that what Father said? Isn’t that what you said? I saw what I saw.”

  “It meant something,” said Father again. “Now an odd message I received through the Index makes perfect sense.”

  Oh no, thought Elemak. What have I done?

  “I have thought for some time that we couldn’t accomplish the Oversoul’s purpose without wives. And yet where could we possibly find women who would join us here?”

  Where could you find men who would join you here, for that matter, Father, except that you trapped your own sons into coming with you?

  “But when I asked the Oversoul, the answer I got was to wait. That’s all, just wait, which made no sense to me. Would wives sprout from the rocks? Would we mate with baboons?”

  Elemak couldn’t resist a jab. “Meb already has, from time to time.”

  Meb simpered.

  “And now Elemak has dreamed,” Father said. “I think that is what the Oversoul wanted me to wait for— Elemak’s dream. For the answer to come to my eldest son, to my heir. So, Elya, you must think, you must remember—did you recognize any of the women in your dream?”

  Father was taking this way too seriously, tying it with Elemak’s status as his eldest. Elemak had been a fool to start this whole vision business today, he could see that now; how could he have forgotten that Father was willing to ruin everybody’s lives for the sake of a vision? “No,” said Elemak, to silence him, though it wasn’t true.

  “Think,” said Father. “I know that you recognized at least one.”

  Elemak looked at him, startled. Had the old man started reading his mind now? “If the Oversoul has told you more about my dream than I know myself, then you tell us who they are,” said Elemak.

  “I know you recognized one because you said her name. If you think hard enough, you’ll remember.”

  Elemak glanced at Zdorab, who was looking at the carpet. So, thought Elemak. When Zdorab said that he understood nothing of what I said in my sleep, it wasn’t quite true. “What name?” asked Elemak.

  “Eiadh,” said Nafai. “Am I right?”

  Elemak said nothing, but he hated Nafai for saying the name of the woman Elemak had been courting before Father dragged them out into the desert.

  “It’s all right,” said Father. “I understand perfectly. You didn’t want to tell us her name for fear that we would think that your dream was just an erotic wish for the woman you loved, and not a true dream.”

  Since that was exactly what Elemak thought his dream actually was, he couldn’t argue with Wetchik’s conclusion.

  “But think, my sons. Would the Oversoul require you to choose strangers as your mates? You dreamed of Eiadh because the Oversoul intends her to be your mate,” said Father. “And it makes sense, doesn’t it? For you saw me with a mate as well, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” said Elemak, remembering. The dream was still so vivid in his mind that he could call it back, not just as a vague memory, but clearly. “Yes, and children. Young ones.”

  “There is only one woman I would take as my mate,” said Father. “Rasa.”

  “She’d never leave Basilica,” said Issib. “If you think she would, you don’t know Mother.”

  “Ah,” said Father. “But I would never have left Basilica, either, except that the Oversoul led me. Nor would Elemak and Mebbekew, except that the Oversoul brought them.”

  “Nor I,” said Zdorab.

  “Could the woman you saw in your dream, the woman who was my mate . . . she was Rasa, wasn’t she?” asked Father.

  Of course it was Rasa, but that didn’t prove anything. Rasa had been Father’s wife, year after year, so of course it was Rasa who would show up as his woman in Elemak’s dreams. It would take no vision from the Oversoul for that. “Perhaps,” said Elemak.

  “And did you recognize any of the other women? For instance, the two other men who were strangers—could their mates have been Rasa’s daughters?”

  “I don’t know your wife’s daughters all that well,” said Elemak. How far would this game have to go before he could have done with it?

  “Don’t be absurd,” said Father. “They’re your nieces, aren’t they? Gaballufix’s daughters.”

  “And one of them is famous,” chimed in Meb. “Sevet, the singer—you’ve seen her.”

  “Yes,” said Elemak. “The wives of the two strangers were Rasa’s daughters.” Of course he knew them, and their husbands, too, Vas and Obring.

  “There, you see?” said Father. “The Oversoul has given you a true vision. The women you saw are all connected with Rasa. Her daughters, and Eiadh, one of the nieces of her household. I’m sure the others are all of her household, too. So this isn’t some impossible dream that came to you because you had a hunger for venery, my son. This came from the Oversoul, because the Oversoul knows that to accomplish our purpose we must have wives who will bear us children. All of us.”

  “Well,” said Elemak, “if it’s really a vision, then I’m happy enough for the Oversoul to give me Eiadh. But I think there’s a better chance of finding a falcon in a frog’s mouth than of anyone but the Oversoul ever persuading Eiadh to come out into the desert to marry a penniless, homeless man like me, with no hope of wealth.”

  “You forget that the Oversoul has promised us a land of unspeakable richness,” said Father.

  “And you forget that we haven’t found it yet,” said Elemak. “We’re not likely to find it, either, squatting in the desert like this.”

  “The Oversoul has shown us what we must do,” said Father. “And as Nafai said to me before you left to seek the Index—if the Oversoul requires us to do something, he’ll open a way for us to do it.”

  “Great idea,” said Mebbekew. “Whom will Nafai kill to get us some women?”

  “That’s enough,” said Father.

  “Come on,” said Mebbekew. “How else would Nafai ever get a wife, except by killing some drunk passed out on the street and stealing his blind, crippled daughter.”

  To Elemak’s surprise, Nafai said nothing to Mebbekew’s gibes. Instead, the boy got up and left the tent. So, thought Elemak. Nafai isn’t entirely a child. Or else he was ashamed to have us see him cry.

  “Meb,” said Issib softly, “Nafai brought the Index, and you didn’t.”

  “Oh, come on,” said Mebbekew. “Can’t anybody take a joke around here?”

  “It isn’t a joke to Nafai,” said Issib. “Killing Gaballufix is the most terrible thing he ever did, and he thinks about it all the time.”

  “You were out of line to throw it up to him,” said Father. “Don’t do it again.”

  “What am I supposed to do,” Mebbekew insisted, “pretend that Nafai got the Index by saying Pity Please?”

  It was time for Elemak to get Mebbekew back in line—no one else could do it, and it needed to be done. “What you’re supposed to do is shut up,” said Elemak softly.

  Meb looked at him defiantly. It was all an act, though, Elemak knew. All he had to do was meet Meb’s gaze and hold it, and Meb would back down. It didn’t take long, either.

  “Elemak,” said Father, “you must go back, you and your brothers.”

  “Don’t put this on me,” said Elemak. “If anyone can persuade Rasa, it’s you.”

  “On the contrary,” said Wetchik. “She knows me, she knows I love her, she loves me too—and that didn’t bring her with me before. Do you think I didn’t suggest it? No, if anyone persuades her it will be the Oversoul. All you have to do is go and suggest it to her, wait for the Oversoul to help her understand that she must come, and then provide safe escort for her and her daughters and the young women of her household who come with her.”

  “Oh, fine,” said Elemak. He could wait a long cold time for the Oversoul to persuade anybody but Father to do something as idiotic as leaving Basilica for the desert. But at least he’d be waiting in Basilica, even if he had to do it in hiding. “Should I have her bring along a servant for Zdorab, too?”