You choose, but think well before you choose the unhinging." "At my age, with all the vexations of youngness so far behind me!" Nalasu complained.
"Choose.

You will find there is vexation, and liveliness and much of it, in the centre of the dog-killing yard when the sun cooks your sore joints till the grease of the leanness of you bubbles like the tender fat of a cooked sucking-pig." "Then send me the wives," Nalasu managed to utter after a long pause.
"But send them in three days, not in two, nor to-morrow." "It is well," Bashti nodded gravely.

"You have lived at all only because of those before you, now long in the dark, who worked so that the tribe might live and you might come to be.

You are.

They paid the price for you.