"You killed him!"

"No. He died of pneumonia. He wasn't killed by a Sime."

Kadi sat on the bed next to Hank. "We'll take you to a place where Simes and Gens live together-the way Rimon and I do. See?" She held out her arms. "I'm Gen, but Rimon is Sime, and he's my husband. We have a little boy of our own."

Hank stared at Kadi's arms, then at her face. "You're crazy! How do you keep him from killing you?"

"Rimon doesn't kill. Ever."

The boy absorbed that slowly, then looked up at Rimon.

"I don't believe it," he said flatly. Nonetheless, Rimon could read a faint hope in the childish nager.

"Give us a chance to prove it, Hank," said Rimon. "I don't want you to ride for five days tied up and thrown across my saddle, but if that's what it takes to get you to Fort Freedom, I'll do it. If you'll promise not to try to escape, you can ride the horse we brought for you."

"You'd take my word?"

"Your father was an honest man. He wouldn't give his word unless he meant to keep it. I expect you to do the same."

For a long, quiet moment, Hank studied them. "You've got my word. I won't try to escape until after I see this Fort Freedom."

They discarded Hank's red smock, and dressed him in a spare set of Rimon's clothing, sleeves and pant legs rolled up. Clean, with hair combed, he emerged as a good-looking boy, with dark brown hair and wide blue-gray eyes like his father's.

When they finally had everything packed, and were looking around to see if they'd left anything, someone stopped at the door. Wondering who it could be, Rimon opened the door and found himself face to face with Erd Keslic, the father of Yahn, who had become Nerob. When Rimon invited him in, he glanced at Kadi and Hank and shook his head nervously. "I just-I've been looking for you all over, Rimon. It's-"

No-oh no, I can't go back and try to buy Nerob again!

But Keslic, radiating embarra.s.sment, was saying, "When I got back today, N'vet Farris told me to put Nerob back he isn't selling him. He said, bad year or no, he kept his promises. But then-the others told me what happened, and I-Thank you, Rimon." Having gotten the words out, he spun and hurried away. Rimon stared after him, a weight lifted from his soul.

Kadi put her arm around him. "Oh, Rimon, I'm so glad. You did the right thing-and so did your father!"

The ride home was uneventful. Hank tried to keep Kadi between himself and Rimon, but made no attempt to escape.

They reached Fort Freedom late in the afternoon, Rimon choosing to cross the creek below town and skirt Del's fence rather than take Hank through town. Let him see Fort Freedom first.

The crops were withering for lack of rain; nonetheless it was easy to see the care that had gone into the fields. Three houses by the creek were still lived in, but no one was in sight.

When they rode up to the stockade, though, the woman on guard called out in English, "You found him!"

"We found him," Rimon agreed.

"G.o.d be praised! Welcome, son-welcome to Fort Freedom!"

Hank stared at her, then looked at the neat, well-kept houses that made up the community. "It looks like home!"

People came out, sensed Hank's uneasiness, and hung back. When they reached the Veritt home, Abel came out, followed by Margid with Zeth. "Mama! Daddy! Come see. Puppy!" cried Zeth, tugging at Rimon.

"In a moment, Zeth," Rimon told him, picking him up with an agonized vow that there would never be the gulf between him and his son that he knew with his father.

Hank watched from his horse as Kadi embraced Abel and Margid, Jord and Willa converging from next door another Sime~Gen couple. Then Abel went to Hank, looking up in awe. "Welcome to Fort Freedom, Henry. I'm Abel Veritt. I believe Mr. Farris has told you about our community?"

He held up his hands to help the boy off his horse, but Hank remained rigid until Abel stepped back. Then he slid down cautiously. "Mr. Farris said my father died here, and you were looking for me. I suppose to kill me, too."

"No, Hank!" Jord said urgently. "Your father and I were friends. If only he could have known you were alive and well-"

"Let's not crowd Henry today," Abel said, turning to the boy. "Will you accept our hospitality? I know it's difficult for you to believe we offer you a safe place to rest."

As Abel shook his head warningly, the people who had gathered left in silence. Only Abel, Margid, Rimon, Kadi, and Zeth accompanied Hank into the house.

Hank looked around, eyes wide. Rimon could easily guess that the things he'd always found alien in Fort Freedom spelled "home" to Hank. In the main room, Zeth squirmed down, and hurried to get something from a basket. "Daddy, look! Mama!"

Not very steady on his feet yet, Zeth overturned the basket and sat down hard on his bottom as he tried to lift out a puppy. Another pup tumbled out, and with a happy yapping ran straight at Hank's feet. He automatically picked it up, and got his face washed with a quick pink tongue.

Kadi, meanwhile, was asking, "What's going on here, Abel?"

"The Whelans' dog had pups, remember? Zeth couldn't decide between two of them, so we brought them both home for him to make up his mind. I told him he had to choose just one. As you see, he's made his choice," Abel explained, ignoring the fact that he hadn't consulted Zeth's parents about a puppy at all. Zeth was showing his puppy to Kadi now. As she petted the oversized head with loving strokes, Rimon decided not to object. The puppy would be Kadi's responsibility-but she'd missed having a dog since Wolf. He knelt down to be introduced to his son's new pet.

Hank stood cradling the other puppy as if it were the one real thing in an insane world. It didn't take Abel long to notice. "Would you like that puppy, Henry? The Whelans are looking for good homes for all of them."

"I don't have a home anymore," Hank said stolidly.

"We're offering you a home," replied Abel. "However, if you prefer, we'll escort you safely across the border."

"Why would you do that? I'm a Gen, and Simes kill Gens-the way you killed my mother and father."

Abel glanced at Rimon, who shrugged. No matter how many times they'd told him on the trail, Hank still resisted.

"We don't kill people like you," said Abel. "We're in the process, of learning not to kill at all. Both Rimon Farris and my son Jord have learned to take selyn without killing the Gen."

"But you kill-don't you?"

"Yes. We won't lie to you. Not all of us have learned yet. We ask you to wait until you know enough about us to decide if you want to stay-if you are Gen."

"No if about that," muttered Hank.

"I told you," said Rimon, "you haven't established selyn production. You're a child, not a Gen."

"How do I know that? You say Gens start producing this-selyn-in their teens. But if I were doing it, how would I know?"

"You'll know," said Kadi. "Somebody will tell you."

"Kill me, you mean."

"Not here," said Abel. He moved so that the boy had to turn to follow him with his eyes. "But you might go into changeover. There's only one chance in three you'll be Sime, but there's still that one chance, Henry, and even Rimon can't tell yet which way you'll go."

"No! My parents taught me to pray, and all through this, I've prayed every day. G.o.d will not desert me."

"You were taught," replied Abel, "as I was taught as a child. But I failed to learn the dangers of presumption, and found myself Sime, convinced I was cursed. It took me years to find that it was I who had deserted G.o.d, and to return to His service."

"You can't preach at me! You're a cursed Sime!"

Abel inspected his tentacled arms with an air of objectivity. "It would seem so. All of us here wakened one day to find ourselves Sime, unable to refrain from killing for selyn, though all our lives we'd been so sure it couldn't happen to us. Henry, you're welcome here; if you should be Sime, we'll pray for you, as for all our own, that you'll never have to kill. And if you're Gen, you may remain or leave with our blessing. Come now, you're tired. Accept our hospitality-at least to the extent of a meal and a bed."

"Supper will be ready soon," said Margid.

"In the meantime," said Abel, "would you like to visit your father's grave, and perhaps pray for him in our chapel?"

"You have a chapel? How can you-"

Abel smiled faintly. "Do you doubt that G.o.d can see and hear either side of the border with equal clarity?"

Hank regarded Abel over the puppy he still held. Then Kadi took it, putting it back in the basket. Hesitantly, Hank left with the older man. Rimon, Kadi, and Zeth joined, Margid in the kitchen as she prepared a meal for Hank.

"I hope he'll stay," she said. "It's been so nice to have a child in the house-we're going to miss Zeth. Kadi, will you eat something?"

With Zeth falling asleep on her lap, Kadi said, "As long as you're making it, I'd like some."

"Rimon?" asked Margid. "No, forgive me-a cup of tea?"

And he remembered for the first time that day that he was in need. And tonight... a faint chill ran up his back. Tonight he and Kadi would have transfer. What was the matter with him? It would be like every other time-the most blissful experience he ever knew. Yet prying at the corner of his mind was that strange and terrible fact: Kadi can kill.

His thoughts were interrupted when Abel returned with Hank. The boy was grim-faced, but dry-eyed. He sat down beside Kadi at the table, lost in thought.

"Abel, you'll want Hank's papers," said Rimon, fishing them out and looking for his pen. Automatically, he spread his tentacles to search his pockets, and Hank started slightly. But then he just looked away without saying anything.

"I'm signing him over to you, Abel, and here's your change. I owe you some more-can the explanations wait till tomorrow?"

"Of course." Abel held the papers out to Hank. The boy stared at them, then up at Abel. "We don't believe in ownership of people," Abel explained. "But I wouldn't advise you to destroy them. We must abide by the laws of this Territory until one day we have the power to change them. If you change over, you become a free citizen of this Territory if you have no debts to indenture you. If you establish, a Sime must technically hold you as his property or you're fair prey for any Sime."

"So you own me, either way," Hank said resentfully. "I don't understand Sime money, and I don't have any to give you."

"No. Fort Freedom had to pay to release you, but you owe us nothing. You're free to seek your own way to salvation, Hank."

Cautiously, Hank took the very edge of the paper Abel held out, and plucked it away, as if afraid Abel would grab him.

"Go wash your hands and face before you eat, Henry," said Margid, as casually as if she spoke to her own son. Hank stared at her, almost said something, but went to wash up in silence.

At the table, when Margid came near him, Hank held himself carefully out of her way, so that she wouldn't touch him accidentally as she served his food. He seemed hesitant to eat at first, but as Kadi dug in, he followed suit. Then he looked up, surprised. "It's real food! Like we had at home!"

Everyone laughed, and some of the tension eased. "Margid is a wonderful cook," said Kadi. "You'll be happy here, Hank."

The boy put down his spoon to finger the papers Abel had given him. "I can't read these."

"You'll have to learn Simelan," said Abel. "Then you'll see they are exactly what we told you."

Hank said in heavily accented Simelan, "I've already learned to speak a lot of it. I knew I needed it to escape."

Rimon choked on his tea, both Kadi and Abel blushed, and Margid looked totally blank. This time it was not a deliberate use of foul language; but in all innocence, Hank used the verb for "learned" with connotations of sizing up a s.e.xual partner, the word for "knew" that implied a Sime discerning a choice kill, and the word "needed" where the proper term was "required." Thus it came out the foulest of gutter language.

"I'm afraid," said Abel, "that you. had best speak English, until we teach you proper Simelan in school."

"I'd have to go to school?"

"Of course. Didn't you go to school before-at home?"

"Sure, but... You sure do act like real people."

As Hank began to eat again, a young voice called from the front of the house, "Mr. Veritt? Mrs. Veritt?"

"We're in the kitchen, Uel," called Margid.

It was Uel Whelan, Dan Whelan's son. Like all the children of Fort Freedom, he was meticulously polite before the Veritts, but curiosity was strong in his nager. He was twelve or thirteen, now, and, like Hank, showed no indication of becoming Sime-or Gen. "Mr. and Mrs. Veritt. Mr. and Mrs. Farris. Hi, Zeth." Then he waited.

"Uel," said Margid, "this is Henry Steers, Jr. Uel Whelan is the son of our blacksmith, Henry."

"I wish everybody would call me Hank," the boy said. "My father was always Henry."

"Hi, Hank," said Uel. "You gonna stay with Mr. and Mrs. Veritt?"

"Maybe."

Snubbed, Uel turned to Kadi. "Did Zeth pick out which puppy he wants?"

"Yes," she said, "the one with the white patch over his eye."

"Well, I'll just take the other one home, then-"

"Uel," said Abel, "I think the other puppy has chosen Hank-if Hank wants him."

Hank stared at his plate, then looked up at Abel. "Can I really have him?"

"If you'll take care of him."

Uel, apparently sensing that Hank's rudeness had come from strain, tried again. "Want me to show you how to take care of him, Hank? I raised his mother from a pup."

"I know how to train a dog," said Hank, but the rudeness was gone from his voice. "This one looks like my dog, Bigfoot-his feet are too big for the rest of him, just like Biggie's were." He started to get up from the table.

"Hank," Margid said warningly.

The boy turned. "Uh, may I be excused?"

"Have you had enough to eat?"

"Yes, thank you. I think we ought to take the puppies outside, y'know?"

"Very well," said Abel. "Don't be too long, though. You should get to bed early tonight."

"Yes, sir," over his shoulder as he and Uel headed eagerly to play with the puppies.