The channel studied that bafflement for a moment and then rose. "My ancestors would have died in poverty and misery long before the first channel was born if it hadn't been for the Raiders and the pens. The juncts established our civilization. That's not something we allow ourselves to forget. I was born out of the deaths of others. I can't blame those who still kill merely because there aren't yet enough channels for everyone."

"So what are we going to do with him?"

"Leave him here. Runzi will be sending parties out to collect the dead. Somebody will check on the cabin soon. They'll take care of him. Come on."

Klyd started off down the side of the hill, and Valleroy followed. "Where are we going?"

"Back to the cabin. We can't go home until that battlefield is cleared, and I think I have this cylinder's combination figured out."

Valleroy followed in silence. It seemed that every time he thought he had Klyd figured out, some new facet of his personality came to the surface to confuse things. Revenge was something that Valleroy understood. He wanted his share of it, too. Pride was innate, in him despite his humble upbringing. Loyalty, dedication, ideals. All seemed comprehensively enough, until Sectuib Klyd Farris got through twisting them into the Sime mold. But after a while that bizarre Sime point of view became quite comfortably familiar. He made a mental note to read some Sime philosophers if his Simelan ever became good enough.

Back in the snug building, Klyd set about opening the dispatch case using a hot poker from the hearth to score one of the lines of the pattern that went all the way around the cylinder in a graceful S curve. Then he took the cylinder in hand and applied pressure at eighteen points simultaneously, a trick no Gen could master.

The cylinder fell neatly into two halves, which Klyd laid out on the table. Within, several documents were clipped to the cylinder wall. Very gingerly, the Sime removed them. He shoved the cylinder aside and spread out the papers, scanning quickly. Two were in code, but the third was a handwritten letter.

Looking over the channel's shoulder, Valleroy said, "Read it aloud. I can't read handwriting very well."

"It's from Andle. To the man in charge of the main Runzi encampment, Tellalian. It's... about Aisha, I think. How do you spell her last name?"

"R-A-U-F. What would that be in Simelan?"

"I think this must be her, then. Seems a reasonable transliteration."

"What does it say?"

The channel read silently for several moments, while Valleroy strained to decipher the spidery scrawl of Andle's handwriting. At length Klyd said, "You're not going to like this, Naztehr."

"I don't like not knowing either."

"They have her. They apparently know who she is and what she can do. She's refused to help them despite the entire repertoire of Runzi persuasions. She must be quite a person!" He paused, bracing himself against Valleroy's emotions. "Andle has ordered her reserved for his personal need."

"He'll kill her? When!

"I've no idea."

"We've got to get to her. Where are they keeping her?"

"At their main camp, somewhere near here."

"The messenger must have been heading there. He could have told us where-"

"Never. Even truth drugs don't work on the Runzi. They have hypnotic conditioning against revealing the camp's location."

Truth drugs, thought Valleroy! Some of the stories about Simes were true then! "We'll have to search for the camp. You must know these mountains pretty well. Where would the most likely place be?"

"You can study a map when we get home."

"Home? Oh... damn."

"You want to go now? I'll release you from all ties to Zeor."

"Release me? You mean, 'Get out and don't set foot in my house again!' "

"I didn't say that."

"But that's what you meant. A Companion is nothing unless he's trustworthy."

Klyd didn't answer and somehow that hurt Valleroy more than an angry ultimatum would have. He yelled, "All right! Have it your way. We'll go to Zeor first. The worst that can happen is that she'll be killed. At least that won't hasten Zelerod's Doom any more than the death of any other Gen." He leaned over and pounded the table so that the halves of the cylinder danced a tattoo. "Not that you care!"

Chin propped on clasped hands, Klyd endured the tirade with closed eyes. "You're hurting me, Naztehr. It's cold in here. Why don't you build up the fire."

"I ought to clear out and follow those Raiders who captured all my people this afternoon, not that you care about their fate."

"I doubt if they are taking the captives to the Runzi camp. Considering that they are all trained soldiers, it would be foolish to attempt to detain them so near the border, or to reveal to them the location of the camp.

No, the Ferolis Choice Auction would be the more probable destination. It's far enough in-Territory that escape would be of no avail. The security at Ferolis exceeds that at Iburan. And the price will be higher there."

"You... cold... unfeeling... snake!"

Klyd continued, eyes still closed, tone level. "As soon as I get back to Zeor, I'll have a watch put on Andle. We'll know when he approaches need, and we can follow him. The Householdings aren't totally without influence in the halls of the mighty. If we can prove that Andle used his position to set up the Runzi to supply him with personally chosen Gens, we can destroy him once and for all."

"And Zeor's prestige will triple. But what about Aisha? What if he's headed there right now?"

"I can't hold you here against your will. I don't want you here... against your will."

Valleroy hit the table again. "Damn!"

"Naztehr, will you please do your emotional agonizing outside? This is beginning to irritate me."

Valleroy's frustration exploded into a red rage at the impassive Sime. He grabbed Klyd's shirt front and half lifted him out of the chair, trying to provoke some sort of reaction... any sort.

What he got was more than he'd bargained for. Steely tentacles closed on his wrists. The spare Sime body became all muscle under his hands. Valleroy's full strength couldn't hold against the Sime. He suddenly found himself pinned against the wall breathing the warmth of the Sime's breath. "Naztehr, it is you who have no feeling! Or is it that you so hate what I stand for that you want to force me to attack you in the kill mode? You could do it, you know. A Companion has that power. But if you do, you'd better be ready!"

Klyd released him then, and Valleroy felt like a discarded rag doll left to collapse. Turning his back, Klyd strode to the fire and began to add wood. He asked conversationally, "I don't know about you, but I feel hungry."

"I thought need suppressed appetite."

"I lost a lot of blood. The body demands replacement material."

Still fighting the wildly cashing emotions within him, Valleroy was unable to answer. He wanted to apologize for his behavior, and he wanted to pick up and leave. He could understand that Klyd was desperately trying to act normal, but he almost wished Klyd had attacked and gotten it over with.

The channel turned, a ruefully perceptive grin cocking his lips... those terribly expressive Farris lips. "Naztehr, what's for lunch? It's almost dinnertime."

That did it "You haven't had any breakfast yet I'm sorry, Sectuib. I'll put the kettle on."

"Good. I wouldn't want you to leave on an empty stomach."

"Do you still want me to leave?"