The rider in the lead stood out conspicuously from his retinue.

He was of medium build, well into middle age, and seemed to come from the usual mixed racial descent. But there his similarity to his followers ended. He carried a short, dress version of the Sime whip, hardly more than a riding crop with a jeweled handle. His black boots were polished to an impossible mirror finish. His flamboyant white riding cloak draped his horses flanks with the smooth fold of the richest material. His impeccably tailored jacket was cut for fashion, not warmth. And his few items of jewelry were chosen with the ostentatious conservatism of the confidently wealthy.

But it was not the painful attention to grooming that labeled him. He would have been just as impressive clad only in muddy rags. It was the flash of eye, the tilt of brow, the confident arrogance of every smoothly coordinated movement that gave him an aura that could subjugate a reigning monarch. Here was the kind of leader who would attract followers intent on supporting only the winning side.

In that momentary pause before the visitors dismounted, Valleroy suddenly saw the entire conflict in a new light. On the one side, the Tecton founded on ideals and personal loyalty; on the other, the juncts banded together by personal greed. The Tecton was creating a society of interdependent units; the juncts' society was composed of mutually repelled units that would fly apart if the binding force were to falter.

That instant would be Andle's death. And, promised Valleroy silently, that would be the second installment in the Death Price of Feleho Ambrov Zeor!

The flash of inarticulate hatred that accompanied his vow attracted a momentary glance from the intended victim. Even so, when Andle had dismounted, he went directly to Klyd.

The grimace that twisted Andle's mouth bespoke a dire victory on the Sime's side. Even before one word had been said, Valleroy's heart chilled. His shifting emotional nager earned him another piercing glance that culminated in diabolical laughter. "Sectuib... Ambrov

... Zeor... your Companion is right!" And more laughter, so cultured yet so barbarically triumphant

Valleroy thought even the laughter was as carefully calculated for impressiveness as was Andle's appearance. But even so, it wasn't Andle who dominated that scene. It was Klyd. Imprisoned though he was, obviously at the others nonexistent mercy, dirty, ragged, and torn with need, the channel's quiet dignity somehow made Andle seem overdressed... a buffoon too inept to clown in Zeor's kindergarten.

It was the oddest thing Valleroy had ever seen, that wordless confrontation. Later, thinking back on it, he decided it was the triumph of cooperation over competition. Klyd did not stand alone. Even isolated in a cage, he could draw upon the combined strength of the whole Tecton while Andle had only his own self-confidence to support him. At that time, though, Valleroy could see only how Klyd's imperceptible source of strength shattered the unity of Andle's retinue. And with that observation, Valleroy again found hope.

But not for long. The awkward laughter ceased, and the twisted face hardened. Only the lips moved, curling around each word sneeringly as Andle pronounced, "Zeor is DEAD!"

Valleroy guessed it wasn't those words that devastated Klyd. It was the emotional content behind them. Words could be bluff or boast. But the channel's expertise was in reading emotions. No ordinary Sime could deceive a channel.

"What do you mean?" The question was delivered tonelessly, but that itself indicated the intense control behind those words.

Now came the long awaited moment of total victory for Andle. He produced a newspaper, unrolled it, and held it up for Klyd to read the headline. It was a special edition of the Tecton Weekly. "Yesterday," read Valleroy, "Yenava Ambrov Zeor, wife of Sectuib Klyd Farris, died at Householding Zeor."

The rest was beyond his field of vision, but Andle supplied the news. "Yenava went into labor. There were complications. Because you weren't there, your grandfather tried to help her." He paused to observe the effect he was creating. "Your wife, son, and your grandfather are dead. You will follow shortly. Without leader, Zeor... is... dead!"

Klyd betrayed little outward sign of reaction, but there must have been some flicker of emotion that set Andle laughing again. But that laughter was a serious tactical blunder. Eyes narrowed, the channel shifted his weight ever so slightly and waited.

The solidarity of Andle's men, which had begun to coalesce once more, dissolved in an instant. The defeated prisoner still dominated the triumphant captor. It couldn't be, yet there it was, undeniable even to an emotion-deaf Gen.

The laughter died away more quickly this time, and into the silence Klyd said, "Zeor is not a person, it's an idea. Ideas cannot be killed by destroying the people who hold them. Unto Zeor, forever."

Realizing that his victim had claimed victory, Andle spat, "Pervert!"

At that, Klyd smiled gently, almost as if Andle had offered the traditional Zeor pledge. Speechless, Andle stormed toward Aisha, smacking riding crop against his thigh as he inspected his merchandise. Valleroy saw her retreat from the angry Sime. She hadn't understood a word that had been said, but most of the communication had been nonverbal and universally clear.

To cover her fear, Valleroy shouted, "You're the pervert, you coward! You're too gutless to take a Gen who isn't drug-crazed into fear"-Valleroy paused to space his words like poisoned darts-"because... you are terrified of what a Gen could do to you!"

Andle froze in the act of confronting Aisha, as if unable to confront his accuser.

Valleroy sneered contemptuously. "Or is it that you must have a Gen artificially stimulated in order to trigger your own sluggish reflexes... because you really want to go to a channel!"

"SHUT UP!".

"You leave her alone, do you hear me, Pervert," said Valleroy with chillingly dangerous control, "or I'll carve my initials on your laterals!"

Abruptly, the Sime abandoned Aisha and rounded on the Companion. "So! Our brave Companion wants the girl! And our conceited pervert wants his Companion. It might be interesting to put the girl in with the pervert and see what happens... in... say... another three days from now?"

Valleroy bluffed, "Klyd wouldn't hurt her. She'd serve him as well as I could."

"She probably would," said Andle grinning. "Just as well, and no better!"

At Valleroy's startled reaction, Andle snorted, "Oh, yes, we know all about you, Mr. Federal Policeman. And I am personally going to arrange a little test to see how much you've learned from the perverts!"

The politician strode back to his horse and mounted with a flourish. A moment later he was gone, taking even the roof guard with him as a gesture of utter contempt for the prisoners.

As soon as the Simes were out of sight, the three who had stood solidly united collapsed into solitary hopelessness, each for his own reason. Valleroy slid to the floor feeling stripped of his camouflage of invincibility, forgetting that Andle couldn't know all about his background and would never believe how much Valleroy actually had learned. Aisha merely added one more ignominious defeat to the long list she'd suffered here. And Klyd allowed himself at long last to react to the loss of the three who meant the most to him.

It was the sound of the channels grief that brought Valleroy out of his own misery. Quiet dry sobs "of a brave man's defeat, it was nothing that even the closest friend should witness. Yet there was no avoiding the intrusion.

"Klyd, listen. He came here to break you... to smash Zeor's pride. Don't let a few words win his victory for him! Make him fight for it!"

The sobbing went on and on while Valleroy talked for what seemed like hours, saying the same thing over as many different ways as his Simelan vocabulary permitted. Then he said it all again in English, partly for Aisha's benefit and partly to say more exactly what he meant.

At last, he had nothing more to offer but, "He was wrong about me, Sectuib. I can serve... and I will serve well. You've said so yourself. You know it's true. Aisha has courage. Together you and I can teach her enough to cheat Andle of whatever thrills he expects."

Valleroy fell silent, and gradually Klyd's anguish came under control. Moments later, the channel turned his grimy drawn face toward them. "They too were soldiers who died in the war that we... must... stop. Their sacrifice will not be in vain."

Valleroy answered, "Unto Zeor, forever."

The channel's dark eyes revealed the slow agony that consumed him. But his voice was steady when he answered, "Unto Zeor, forever."

In English, Valleroy said, "Let's sit down. We have a lot of work to do today."

They gathered around the corner where their cages met. Klyd opened. "I don't see what we can do with nothing but words... but you evidently have some idea."

"Well, for a start," said Valleroy, "we can try to figure out how much time we have to prepare. Andle didn't appear to be in need, but then I'm not the expert on that. How about it, Sectuib?"

"I expect he'll hit ivren early tomorrow morning. If he follows the usual custom, he'll call for his kill before noon."

"So soon? That doesn't give us much time."

"What's your plan?"

"I don't really have a plan. But if this is a war, it seems to me we're on a suicide mission. We have to take as many of the enemy with us as we can."

"Enemy?" said Klyd, as if tasting the word. "No, the reason this war hasn't been resolved is that we're all actually on the same side. There are no enemies, and nobody is in the 'wrong.' "

"We don't have time for any Sime philosophy," said Valleroy, brushing that aside in unconscious imitation of a Sime gesture. "It seems to me our deaths can serve the cause best if we take Andle with us."

"That loathsome beast?" said Aisha. "I'll vote for that. But how?"

"I'm not sure. Depends on what he decides to do next But I think your hand will be our only weapon. It's going to take courage, but your father always said you were stubborn, and stubbornness is a good substitute for courage."

"What if he drugs her?" asked Klyd wearily. "That fear-inducing compound shatters the mind. The victim doesn't remember much but nightmare."