He made himself another pot of buckwheat and ate hungrily, still trying to figure out what sort of place this was. The only light was from the fire and a few chinks in the stonework. But by that, he found the candles and lit them.

Only then did he see the writing inscribed on a recessed section of wall framed by an arch. He took the candle to it to see better.

It took no linguistic talent to recognize the symbol at the top of the plaque... this was a Shrine of the Starred-Cross! Below that symbol were instructions indicating the safest path to the Gen Territory border. Then came a series of requests for users of the way station. Leave dry wood on the hearth, and water in the crocks. Write on the plaque the date of usage and whether Simes might have spotted that usage.

Toward the bottom came the admonition to trust in the starred-cross. One such talisman hung from a nail beneath the plaque. It was the same as the one he now wore-the one that had seen his mother safely out of Sime Territory. This was a way station of the children's underground.

Fishing his talisman out of his shirt, Valleroy kissed it joyfully. How lucky they had been to find this place!

CHAPTER TEN.

Messenger

KLYD MOANED, TOSSING FEVERISHLY, AS IF TRYING TO twist away from some unnameable horror. Not knowing what to do, Valleroy kneeled beside the pallet and tried to keep the Sime from hurting himself with the violence of his thrashing. As the minutes wore on, Klyd became more and more delirious, alternately screaming for Denrau and begging urgently for help.

In an anguish of indecision, berating himself for his own ignorance, Valleroy fought his unconscious friend until he had to retreat to avoid the wildly searching laterals, which now were coated with the ronaplin secretion, a sure sign that the channel was in need.

Helpless, Valleroy stood aside watching his patient wrestling with unseen demons. He'd carried this man across a mountainside, and to do it, he'd promised himself he'd save him or die trying. Now it appeared as if the channel would kill himself in delirium.

Right now, Klyd was in need, and Valleroy was high-field. Such a combination would end in transfer, and Valleroy knew it He thought he might nerve himself to try it if Klyd were conscious and somewhat able to control himself. But only a highly skilled Companion would dare do anything with a channel in this condition. Yet he had to do something.

Suddenly, Klyd let out a wide-eyed scream of undiluted terror. He clutched at the straw pallet as if he were falling off the world. Valleroy threw himself on top of the thrashing Sime. He grabbed Klyd's arms above the tentacle sheath openings. He could feel the swollen ronaplin glands under the lateral sheaths. His grip was surely causing incredible pain. But perhaps pain would bring Klyd to his senses. He hung on as the thin body was wracked with spasm after spasm. With the Sime strength driving muscle against muscle, surely the very bones of Klyd's body would crack under the strain.

Valleroy sobbed, "Klyd, wake up. It's me, Hugh, not Denrau! Wake up so we can go to Denrau. He's home, in Zeor... waiting for you. Klyd wake up! Oh, for God's sake, wake up!"

Valleroy never knew how long the ordeal went on. Slowly, the channel's screams subsided. His thrashing quieted until only an occasional moan of pain filled the cabin. Valleroy released his grip and sprang back out of reach, praying fervently that he hadn't hurt Klyd.

Instantly, Klyd's eyes opened, focused and sane. He froze, motionless. Then he let out a ragged sigh and melted into the straw bedding, limp with an unutterable fatigue. "You idiot Gen! Don't you know better than to move an unconscious Sime!"

It was like a slap in the face to Valleroy. "Why you ungrateful..." He choked on raw indignation, all thought of the channel's welfare banished by a growing rage.

Klyd flinched under the savage wave of emotion as if physically assaulted. "Naztehr..."

"Don't 'naztehr' me, you fugitive from a freak show! If you can't..."

"Quiet!" Klyd said it softly, but that single word carried all the weight of unquestioned authority that had rested upon the Farris family for generations. "That's better. I apologize. No matter how intelligent a person may be, he could never deduce the effect of moving an unconscious Sime. Now you've seen it, you'll never make that mistake again."

Somewhat mollified, Valleroy calmed down enough to see Klyd's point of view. It had been a pretty gruesome experience. If it was caused merely by his being moved, Klyd had every right... "I'm sorry, Sectuib, if I did wrong. But the next time you tackle a wildcat, kindly instruct me in the rudiments of Sime first aid before allowing yourself to become injured. I thought I was saving your life by getting you inside here where it is warm. Concussion and subfreezing weather don't make for blooming health among Gens."

Valleroy had tried to speak politely but it came out sounding belligerently sarcastic. Klyd, however, seemed to take it as it was meant. "I'd rather freeze to death than undergo psycho-spatial disorientation. I'm going to have nightmares for months!"

"Psycho-... what?"

"We have a sense that is lacking in the Gen. It is not usually obtrusive, but when disrupted..." He shuddered. "We always know exactly where we are. It seems to be connected with some fundamental uniqueness of every point in the universe. Right now, I'm aware of my position on the Earth. I'm aware of the spinning of the planet on its axis. I'm aware of the motion around the Sun. I can even sense, vaguely, the motion of the Sun around the galaxy. I suppose there must be some subliminal awareness of the motion of the galaxy through space. But when unconscious, I'm not aware of my motion relative to the Earth's surface. When awareness returns, the conscious mind is convinced that the old position was the correct one, while the unconscious mind senses the new position. The confusion is... horrible!"

"I'm sorry. I guess a Companion would know all about that."

Klyd assented with a weary blink. "And there are ways to make the awakening easier, if necessary." He massaged his forearms. "Remind me to teach you that trick after you qualify."

Valleroy frowned. "You're in need."

"Not quite. But..."

"But what?"

He fingered the deep gashes on his upper arms and thighs. "Healing these has cost enough selyn to keep me functioning for two days. And disorientation is... also expensive."

"You mean you are dangerously low-field, yet not in need? Isn't that paradoxical?"

"Channels are different, Hugh. The need cycle appears to have little connection with the available selyn reserves for a channel. It's almost as if need were a vestigial holdover from the pure Sime mutation. I could be high-field and go berserk with need. Or I could be close to death by attrition and not experience half the agony of the ordinary Sime in disjunction. Right now, I must acquire selyn to sustain my metabolic functions. I don't absolutely require transfer. I can accomplish through a fundamental internal shunt..."

"My Simelan isn't up to understanding that. Can you tell me in English?"

"No. English doesn't have the vocabulary to discuss Sime experiences. But what I must know is the same in both languages. Will you help me?"

Valleroy couldn't answer. Last night, he'd been willing to give his life for this man. Not two minutes after awakening, safe and warm, the patient had turned on him. Oh, he'd apologized and explained. But Valleroy wasn't able to go from worried concern to resentment, to realization that his efforts to help had done more harm than good, and then back to willing helper... all in a matter of minutes. His emotions churned uncontrollably.

"Hugh, I do understand what you did for me last night. Are you going to let that go to waste? If so, you'd better get out of here right now and bar the door from the outside. I haven't got much time, and I can't be responsible for my actions toward the end."

"Oh, hell, I'll do whatever I can. I've never run out on a team partner yet. Stacy would fire me. Besides, we haven't found Aisha yet I require you to help with that."

"Come here, then, and sit down."

"I don't know what to do."

"It's only a bit more demanding than the simple entran out function that you mastered at Imil."

"All right. But you'll have to teach me."

"Come."

Apprehensively, Valleroy moved closer.

"Sit here." The channel indicated the side of the straw pallet. Valleroy took a deep breath of resignation and assumed the position.

Klyd propped himself up against the wall, obviously drawing upon ironclad self-control to deliver a memorized classroom lecture in a dryly impersonal tone. But his voice shook occasionally.

"The channel is a secondary mutation that differs radically from the basic Sime mutation. One important difference is the dual selyn-storage system. The ordinary Sime can only draw, store, and utilize selyn to sustain his own body functions. The channel, too, has this basic selyn transport system. But in addition, the channel has a separate system that is used to gather selyn from Gen donors and to dispense it to Simes.

"This secondary system has a much larger storage capacity. It is a Householding custom that all channels carry about three-quarters capacity. I have about half that right now. It would be sufficient, but it's inaccessible to my personal use. If I die, it all goes to waste."

"The fundamental internal shunt is the process of transferring selyn from the secondary system to the primary system. To do that, the deproda must be balanced exactly."

"Now wait a minute. I'm lost. What exactly is... dep-... whatever you said?"

"Deproda. You can think of it in terms of an electrical analogy. It's not exact, but it will do. By increasing the resistance across certain circuit elements, current can be shunted into other elements. You don't have to understand it to do it, any more than you have to understand quantum theory to flip a light switch."

Valleroy, like most Gens, knew nothing at all about electricity. Fingering the starred-cross, he said, "All right. What's resistance and where do I get it?"