"I don't wanna hafta take you to the Greymen, Drgon," Torbu growled. "Leave it lay."
"These cities," I ploughed on. "They're standing there, empty, as perfect as the day they were built. And you live in these flea-bitten quarters, jammed inside the town walls, so the Greymen and renegades won't get you."
"You wanna run things here?" Mull put in. "Go see Qohey."
"Let's all go see Qohey!" I said.
"That's something you'll have to do alone," said Torbu. "You better move on, Drgon. I ain't turnin' you in; I know how you felt about Cagu gettin' killed and all—but don't push it too far."
I knew I was licked. They were as stubborn as a team of mules—and just about as smart.
Torbu motioned; I followed him outside.
"You wanna turn things upside-down, don't you? I know how it is; you ain't the first guy to get ideas. We can't help you. Sure, things ain't like they used to be here—and prob'ly they never were. But we got a legend: someday the Rthr will come back ... and then the Good Time will come back too."
"What's the Rthr?" I said.
"Kinda like a big-shot Owner. There ain't no Rthr now. But a long time ago, back when our first lives started, there was a Rthr that was Owner of all Vallon, and everybody lived high, and had all their lives...." Torbu stopped, eyed me warily.