"No, but Companions don't generally travel alone."

"With the licensed raiders working the area, pickings must be sparse."

"Sometimes, if an unlicensed band gets frustrated enough, they'll go after anyone... even a Householding itself. Several years ago, Zeor was almost wiped out in such an attack."

"Isn't there a law against that?"

"Certainly. If any attackers survived, they'd have been severely reprimanded and heavily fined. Of course, we wouldn't have received any of the fines to cover damages."

"Oh." Valleroy frowned. "But you've recovered."

"Not really. Grandfather never healed properly. I lost my first wife and two children. My brother was killed. My sister died in childbirth because of her wounds. No, Zeor never really recovered. That's one reason we require Zinter."

Valleroy absorbed that in silence. "I guess you were serious... about preparing the invitations so early. Yenava's child will be the hope of Zeor's future."

"Actually, the invitations haven't been done yet. Grandfather refused to approve the design Yenava chose. She got disgusted and decided to send them with blank fronts. But it will be quite a party."

They ate their lunch in silence until Valleroy said, "I'm beginning to think Aisha must be dead."

"Just when I've become convinced she's still alive?"

"Why do you think so?"

"Andle's up to something. I can feel it in my bones."

"Sime's intuition?"

"There is such a thing, you know. He's planning something dirty this time. I've seen evidence showing he was behind that raid on Zeor. I don't think he'll try that again... but I don't think he intends to fail this time. It's my business to see he doesn't get away with it!"

"How will you do that?"

"I don't know. But I'll think of something. Let's get going. I'm close enough to need to be looking forward to Denrau's company."

Slinging his canteen over his saddle, Valleroy vaulted up onto his horse and set off at a canter. Denrau was a real Companion. Somehow, that thought was depressing. He drew up beside the channel and offered, "When we get home, I'll design the invitations... if you want me to."

Klyd reined in sharply. For a moment, he searched Valleroy's eyes. When he spoke, his tone was softer. "Hugh, I did not mention Denrau to slight you. You have done your job well, but Denrau is specially trained to serve."

"I know." Valleroy squirmed under those arresting eyes, certain he wasn't jealous of Denrau.

"If you decide to qualify, you'll be welcome. But Grandfather is right. Even if you do serve, I'd require Denrau to be there too."

"It's nothing like that..."

Klyd set off again, slowly. "We'll be honored if you'll design the invitations."

Valleroy rode through the afternoon concocting and discarding various possible designs in a desperate effort to keep his mind off Aisha. He still hadn't chosen a design when, near sunset, Klyd pulled off the road into an orchard that appeared to have been abandoned by the Ancients even before the Sime Wars.

Dismounting, Klyd said, "Zeor is about a twelve-hour ride from here, and this is the last decent camp spot on the road."

Valleroy looked around the clearing. A lazy stream meandered along one side while an Ancient stone cabin with a new roof occupied the other. A woodpile leaned against the cabin under a shed. A well-used ax hung near a scarred stump. "Looks inhabited," said Valleroy dubiously.

"Not a soul within five miles of here. The station is maintained for travelers by the Department of Roads." Klyd led his horse under the woodshed's roof.

Valleroy followed to discover a row of stalls sheltered from wind and rain by a fragmentary stone wall flung out from the corner of the building like a flying buttress. Tracing the faint markings left in the ground around the old relic, Valleroy said, "This looks like pre-War remains rebuilt."

"It is. We do a lot of reconstruction. Householding Frihill specializes in archeological research and makes quite a nice profit from it."

Scooping grain into the horse's trough, Valleroy grunted. "Are they the ones who rediscovered photography?"

"Yes. Simultaneously with several other researchers. It wasn't so much rediscovered as reinvented... but we've still got a lot to learn about it. The ancients did miracles with chemistry."

The modern Simes do miracles with chemistry too, thought Valleroy. But he said nothing. No use emphasizing the weaknesses of Gen technology. He worked on in silence.

With the horses thoroughly cared for, they paused a moment to watch the sunset over the valley. It was one of those fiery autumn blazes that turned every line of gray cloud into a symphony of bright color... the perfect end to a perfect day. They watched together until the rim of the sun dipped below the horizon, relinquishing the sky to the first stars. Only the swift drop in temperature reminded them that summer didn't stretch ahead indefinitely.

After a while, they carried wood inside and laid their fire on the magnificent stone hearth. To Valleroy's eyes, it seemed as if the tiny cabin had been constructed around a fireplace designed for a room bigger than Zeor's cafeteria. Soon the fire made the room a snug haven against the night's chill. A savory rice concoction that Imil's kitchens had packed for them filled the air with mouth-watering aroma.

Klyd divided the one-dish meal while Valleroy brought the toasted nutbread to the table. "I'm tempted," said Klyd, "to trade Zinter for Imil's head cook."

Valleroy glanced sharply at the wiry, dark-haired Sime. "You serious?"

"No, but I wish I were. This is delicious."

Valleroy laughed and dug into the heaping portion with gusto. It was definitely one of the best meals he'd ever eaten. It tasted like creamed peas in orange sauce but with something crunchy like apples and tangy like cloves but salty-sweet "Tell you what," said Valleroy, "maybe we can buy the recipe with a portrait or something?"

"Now that sounds like a possibility. I'll put a negotiating team on it the minute we get home."

They ate with trail-honed appetites, not pausing to make conversation. Then, dumping the bowls into a pail of water, they moved outside to sit on the wooden porch and munch crisp apples. The huge, burnished moon was just rising to spill its soft brilliance into the night. Against the background of crickets and the softly murmuring brook, an occasional coyote howl rose to challenge the supremacy of the moon. Valleroy filled his lungs with the exquisite fragrance of freshly harvested fields and sighed deeply. It was an enchanted night standing outside of time.

"You know," said Klyd, "I've never been so happy."

"I was just about to say the same thing. Somehow, even though Aisha is still missing, and Stacy is probably circulating 'Wanted for Desertion' handbills with my picture on them... I feel happy."

Flinging his apple core into the orchard, Klyd said, "I think I know why I'm happy. It's a temporary condition. It won't last and it shouldn't... but"-he paused, glancing dubiously at Valleroy-"you won't tell on me?"

"My lips are sealed forever! What's the secret of happiness?"

"Schedules. Or rather the lack of them. For the last eight days, I've slept without interruptions, eaten without emergency calls, and I haven't been required to be anywhere to do anything by the clock."

In English, Valleroy said. "We call that a vacation. Do it every year."

"Vacation." Klyd savored the word, copying the Gen intonation. Then he supplied the equivalent in Simelan. "Now I know why so many disputes break out over the assignments."

"You mean you don't take vacations?"

"Not since changeover. There haven't been enough channels in Zeor to do all the work."

"You ought to start a massive training program to get more people into the profession."