"This will take more than that."

Valleroy stared at the folio propped against the side of the desk. He knew the design within that case, and he knew intimately what each line symbolized. Zeor had become a part of him, if only for a brief moment. It remained for him to become a part of Zeor, if only for a time.

He raised his eyes to the channel, the exotic creature that had changed his life one dark, rainy night. Seated behind an ordinary desk amid piles of documents in an ordinary office smelling of fresh ink and furniture polish, Klyd was altogether too prosaic to be feared. Yet there was something in his eyes, in his voice, in the way he walked, that said he was one of the most important men alive; he knew it, didn't particularly like it, but he accepted it.

And Valleroy accepted it, too. There was nothing wrong with a man taking pride in his accomplishments. Valleroy knew that pride was only the armored shell Klyd had grown around himself to protect... what? Valleroy would never know unless he became a part of Zeor, and suddenly he realized he wanted to know what lay beneath that shell.

As Valleroy studied the channel, the dancing tentacles stilled and retracted into their sheaths. The steepled fingers remained steady, but the channel's eyes searched Valleroy's face, probing each nuance of emotion that accompanied the Gen's thoughts.

As steadily as he could, Valleroy said, "Unto Zeor, forever."

Momentarily, Klyd blinked as if in relief. When he opened his eyes, he affirmed, "Unto Zeor, forever."

"But I still don't know why you think I can impersonate a Companion."

"Let's just say that in your place I could do it for Yenava. Four days from now, we may be back here with Aisha, and all will be settled."

"When do we leave?" Privately, he wondered if all this was worth the homestead Stacy had promised him as reward. If Aisha were already dead... he refused to think about that.

Klyd reached for a stack of papers. "Tomorrow morning, after the funeral. It's a two-day ride to Iburan so we should arrive just in time for the Choice Auction."

"Why not leave now?"

"Hugh"-Klyd gestured helplessly at the work piled before him-"I will be lucky to get away tomorrow without hurting Zeor. Also, Grandfather must be consulted."

"Grandfather?"

"Of course. I must have permission."

"What if he says no?"

Glancing through the folder before him, Klyd continued absently, "Technically, I've been running Zeor for the last four years. But it is good for him to retain some authority. Uselessness is the worst part of old age, even for a Gen, but do you know what it does to a channel?" The question was rhetorical, and Klyd answered it himself with a shudder as he snapped the folder closed. "Come, bring your design, and we'll ,ask him now."

Klyd took the papers he'd been reading while Valleroy followed with the folio under one arm. As they walked down the hall, Valleroy drew abreast. "What about Hrel?"

"Maybe Grandfather will have something to say about him." He led the way through a narrow door at the end of the hall, and then up a steep, twisting stairway.

At the top landing, they stopped to gaze at the view. They were now in a penthouse set well back from the parapets of the tallest building at the western side of the court. From the wide windows, along a closed-in colonnade, they could look down on the buildings, the courtyard, the front gate, and beyond to the adjacent town of Valzor.

Valleroy could now see patches of new roofing and off-color stone work where repairs had been made on the court buildings. The Householders didn't often speak of the pogroms against the "perverts," but the building themselves bore mute testimony.

When Valleroy had caught his breath from the climb, the Sectuib led the way along the colonnade, and then through hangings into an antechamber lined with plush red draperies. And there, pacing back and forth in front of the inner door, was Yenava. She was carrying a folder in one hand, and, Valleroy noted, she was wearing new shoes.

She turned, barring Klyd's entrance.

He stopped midway. "Is something wrong?"

"Entran," she said, tight-lipped. "Denrau's with him now."

"How long?"

"He must have been like that all night You know him. He wouldn't call anybody if he was dying!" Valleroy could see she was on the verge of tears.

"Entran isn't that serious."

Hands on hips, she gave a ladylike snort, "Humph! When was the last time the Master Sectuib"-she looked him up and down-"went through it?"

"The way I work, I have the opposite problem."

"Do I ever have to sit up all night holding your hand?"

"You're in a fine mood this morning."

Valleroy could see the unshed tears swimming in her eyes, and it embarrassed him. If it weren't for the peculiar way Klyd had of creating an island of privacy in full public view, he'd have tiptoed out of the hot domestic scene. But then Zeor was very much like a big, quarrelsome family.

After holding her breath as long as she could, Yenava burst out, "Some morning! First Feleho and now Grandfather..."

"He's not going to die. Denrau is perfectly capable."

"He wouldn't require Denrau if you'd just let him work a little once a while."

Summoning a ragged patience, Klyd shifted his folder to three tentacles and took her shoulders in his hands while with the tentacles of his other arm he tilted her chin up. Two rivulets of tears wandered down her cheeks as he said, "Naavina, you know as well as I do it's not a question of 'letting.' We must face it, sooner or later. He's old, too old to be trusted with the donors. And as for dispensary, his sensitivity is so low that he wouldn't be able to satisfy anyone. He's done all he can do for Zeor. Now it is Zeor's turn to do for him."

For a moment, Valleroy thought she'd accept that. But then she threw the folder she'd been carrying to the floor at Klyd's feet and broke loose from his grasp. "You... unfeeling... beast!" Without waiting for a reply, she tore out into the colonnade and was gone.

Klyd parted the hangings she'd left swinging in her wake and called after her, "You're tired. You'd better get some rest!" He stood in the archway gazing after her as if undecided whether to stay or follow.

Wishing he hadn't come, Valleroy kneeled to gather the papers that had scattered from her folder. They were pictures. A series of drawings made by school-children. Careful lettering on each one made it obvious these were get-well offerings from a class in Zeor history.

Each of the sixty drawings represented some event during Grandfather's time as Head of Zeor. There was battle, carnage, and destruction depicted with an unglazed honesty foreign to the children Valleroy had known. There was a wedding scene, festivals, the dedication of a new building, a disjunction party portrait, a 'family-tree diagram, even a collage of mementos.

As Klyd turned away from the colonnade, Valleroy tapped the papers into a neat stack and inserted them into the folder. "I think these must be for Grandfather."

Klyd riffled through them absently, nodding. Then he tucked them under his arm with the other folder. Valleroy asked, "Is he really very sick?"

"I trust Denrau. But at Grandfather's age, any little thing..."

When Klyd didn't finish, Valleroy said, "What's entran?"

As if glad of the opportunity to lecture clinically, he replied. "The channel has nerve systems absent in the ordinary Sime. They are those used in the selyn-channeling techniques. When these systems are not properly exercised, they can produce very... painful cramps. Entran is not lethal, but the complications can be."

"And your Grandfather can't use these systems any more?"

Klyd nodded. "After so many years, the channel's nerves become accustomed to the load. When the work load is removed, the problems are... endless."

Klyd fell silent, looking at the inner door. Valleroy fidgeted uncomfortably, not knowing if he should stay or not.

At last, the door opened. Denrau stood framed by a shaft of sunlight. He looked at Klyd for a long time as if sharing a somber awareness.