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“Tinies don’t innovate! We don’t need to! The big folks innovate and we survive!”

Cafir had been arguing for three years, moving about the human city visiting one group and then another of Tinies, learning every reason not to do what he wanted to do.

This one was looking relatively positive — not the person Cafir’s age yelling at him, but the greybeard and the greybraids looking between each other and him.

“You’re discussing planning,” the greybraids spoke slowly.

“You’re discussing a very large gathering of Tinies,” the greybeard added.  “You understand the problems there?”

“Magic pools in strange ways, sometimes-unpredictable ways,” Cafir agreed.  “There are ways to channel the magic, but they’re generally untested. But — but I have a feeling that the very testing of them may change the way the magic gathers.”

The greybraids stepped forward.  “And the benefit of having all of these Tinies in one place?  If you can plan this?

“We don’t need this!” the complaining-one put in.  “We’re fine the way things are!”

“One.” Cafir ignored the complainer. “We’d know it could be done. As Big Folks gather more in more in large places, it helps to know if we can”

“An experiment.” The greybraids nodded.

“Two.  We’d be able to share knowledge and learning.”

“Community.”  The greybeard nodded.

“We have plenty of community!” the complainer complained.

“And three: In the city, there will be considerably more to scavenge from the Big Folks.  Many more of us will be able to live on what they spill down there, and we will be out of any one house’s Big Folks and their whims.  Remember the poison.”

“Remember the poison.”  Not a one of them argued that point.  They never did.

“Show me your plans.”  The greybraids tottered forward.  “I want to see these channels.”