"Never mind. Address him as Thrino. But get him calmed down at all costs. His field is not so high, but the fear he's already broadcasting is still too conspicuous."

"Anybody following him?"

"Not within my range."

That range was considerable, so Valleroy said, "Let's go-"

Klyd cupped his hands around his mouth and gave out the most perfect imitation of an owl hooting that the Gen had ever heard. He repeated the call three times, and then three times again in a pattern just a bit too regular to be quite natural.

The scrambling figure stopped to listen. "All right, Naztehr," said Klyd. "Go."

As Valleroy stood up displaying his silhouette, Klyd moved back, using every scrap of cover to make his exit unseen. Valleroy picked his way methodically down toward the waiting figure, calling softly, "Thrino, you've missed the shelter. I'll guide you in. This way."

Nearing the dark figure, Valleroy gestured westward toward the better footing. The figure made no move to approach. Valleroy bared his arms and held them out in the moon light "I mean you no harm." He dared to approach a little closer. The other didn't move, but it was the stillness of a frightened animal ready to bound away at the slightest threat

Valleroy tried to imitate Klyd's reassuring manner. "Come to the shelter. It's warm. There's food. It's safe there."

"How did you find me?"

Valleroy was close enough now that he saw the rocks held by those youthful fists... arms tensed and ready. The fugitive's voice was a half-whisper, but high like a child's. "You were making a lot of noise in that loose gravel," said Valleroy. "The footing is better over here."

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

For answer, Valleroy fished out the starred-cross and dangled it in the moonlight. "Ever see this before?"

The answer was a gasp of recognition and a relaxation of the vise-like grip on the throwing rocks.

Valleroy coaxed, "There's one like this waiting for you in the shelter. Come."

Slowly, the child began to work over toward Valleroy, dropping the primitive weapons behind. Valleroy pulled his jacket sleeves down and shivered. He was sorry he'd left his cloak behind.

"Who are you?" The child's voice trembled faintly.

"My name is Hugh Valleroy. What's yours?"

"I have no name. I'm a Gen."

"I'm a Gen, too. But I have a name. Several in fact."

Closer now, the child examined Valleroy's clothes with interest Suddenly, he spat, "Householder! Pervert!" He jerked away, running back toward his original path.

Valleroy spun around and leaped in front of the child, catching him by the shoulders. They struggled silently for several moments until the hood of the child's cloak fell back loosening a flood of rippling black hair that fell over her face. "You're a girl!" blurted Valleroy.

"And you're a filthy pervert! Let go of me!"

"I will not You're trying to get me killed by the Runzi that are down in the next valley and I don't like that Even perverts resent being murdered!"

At the word "Runzi" the girl froze. "How do you know?"

"My partner and I watched them yesterday. They're gathering their dead. We figure they'll be gone in the morning so we can get home."

"Home?"

"Zeor."

Coldly passionate now, the girl said, "Get your hands off me."

Valleroy let her go. She started away, trudging down the hill.

"I'm sure," called Valleroy, "there must be Simes following you."

She stopped and turned, obviously caught in a dilemma.

"It's warm in the shelter. There's food. My partner says we ought to be safe there until morning."

"Your partner?"

"Sectuib Klyd Farris, Head of Householding Zeor. He doesn't eat little girls."

"I'm not a little girl any more. I'm a Gen."

Valleroy could hear the self-hatred in that repeated admission. It was a horrible emotion to see on the delicate lips of a young girl just flowering with womanhood. He said, "And I'm Sectuib Farris's Companion. He's in need, yes, but I guarantee he won't touch you. Your fear can hurt him, though, and maybe kill us all by leading the Runzi to us."

"Perverts! I hope they do catch you!"

"But you're here, too. Come. We have a warm shelter to offer. Share it with us. I promise we won't try to convert you."

The cold and the lonely flight through darkness had taken their toll on the young fugitive Gen. Lip trembling with suppressed tears, she stood silently. "Come," said Valleroy one last time and led the way.

After a moment, he heard a furtive scrambling behind him. Soon they came out on firmer ground and climbed toward the almost invisible shelter. She began to hang farther and farther back until Valleroy was forced to go back after her. "Klyd's really nice when you get to know him. Even when he's in need, he's very considerate. He's never killed and he never will."

She hung back staring at the cabin fixedly. Valleroy took her by the elbow urging her onward. "He's waiting for us. Don't be afraid."

Reluctantly, she moved under his hand. Valleroy led the way through the door and into the brighter light where Klyd had built up the fire and put some grain on to boil. The channel turned from the hearth. Still sitting on his heels, he said, "Welcome to the Shrine of the Starred-Cross... and to safety."

Leaning against the closed door, the girl made no move. Valleroy watched her eyes appraise Klyd's dexterous handling tentacles. Klyd used them as he had when Valleroy had seen them for the first time, unselfconsciously, firmly, naturally. To Valleroy, they seemed the embodiment of all the grace and beauty the human soul could contain. His own arms seemed incomplete. Obviously, the girl didn't feel that way at all. She was terrified.

Klyd spoke as if welcoming a guest to Zeor. "Naztehr, you can hang up her coat while I put her meal on the table. Thrino, I regret I have little to offer except what we found here. We, too, are fugitives from Runzi."

"And I hope they catch you!"

"But not while you are with us. You are still low-field. You must have been warned quickly. You will escape."

"To die savage in the wilderness."

"To die your own death in your own way. If it is so hopeless, why do you run?"

She sagged limply against the door. "I don't know! I don't know or care any more!" Averting her face, she let the tears of weariness flow unchecked, but without sobbing.