"Andle is that powerful?"

"Highly placed in government. He's the leader of the anti-Tecton faction. If Hrel has been spying for him, we must assume that Andle knows I'm looking for Aisha."

"Maybe not..."

"If not, then why was Feleho killed? I sent him to check the Iburan Choice Auction when I learned they had a consignment from Runzi's Raiders... and Runzi's Raiders operate near Hanrahan Pass."

"Then Feleho must have found Aisha! And they murdered him and sent him home as a warning."

"It's possible." He pondered, speaking half to himself. "That whip is the kind the Raiders use. They believe us cowards because we don't go armed. It could be Feleho was the victim of an ordinary attack. Or they might have captured him."

"How much could he tell them?"

"Nothing... except that I wanted the girl."

"That might be enough..."

"Andle has a twisted mind. He might think the Tecton wants her for the same reason he does."

"Where is Iburan? We have to go there."

"We can't. I have to stay here and deal with Hrel. You can't travel without tags, and I don't have any for you."

"If Aisha's there, we have to go. There's got to be a way."

Standing straighter now, Klyd shook his head. "Can't think like this. Help me get the body inside... the children will be awake soon."

Valleroy helped move the body to the infirmary, where he left Klyd to handle the funeral arrangements. He and another Gen went to scrub down the court. The red blood was already turning to brown stains, which they had to scour out of the stones. Valleroy worked benumbed by the rhythmic cursing of the Gen beside him. Death by injury to the lateral tentacles, the organs richest in selyn transport nerves, was the second most horrible death a Sime could know. Apparently, it was so horrible that even the Gens who lived with Simes, understood some measure of Klyd's revulsion.

As the morning shadows retreated across the court, Valleroy took his folio once more, and headed for Klyd's offices. The outer rooms were deserted, all the desks draped in deep blue. He found the channel idling over a cup of tea, which was set in a small cleared space on his desk.

"Come in, Hugh. Have something to drink."

On the stack of papers before him lay a coiled whip, handle uppermost.

"No, thanks," said Valleroy, propping his folio against the side of the desk. "Things like that still affect my appetite."

"Trin tea will settle your stomach. Good for you." Klyd pulled a cup out of a drawer and poured.

"Yes, Sectuib," said Valleroy, meekly accepting the cup.

Klyd looked up sharply. "That's the first time you've ever addressed me... Hugh, that's it! You don't need tags if you wear the Zeor crest!"

"That's only for members, isn't it?"

"Well, you'll qualify in another two weeks anyway. You don't have to return a pledge just to accept our protection.

"Hey, wait a minute," said Valleroy, taking a chair near the corner of the desk. "Don't go so fast. What do you mean I'll qualify for membership in another two weeks?"

"You were planning to donate, weren't you?"

Valleroy could see Klyd's bewilderment. It never occurred to the channel that a Gen might prefer almost any other option than donating. "Well... if I'm still here. I guess I'll have to, won't I?"

"You're frightened! Don't you realize that it is Gen fear that triggers the worst Sime instincts?"

Valleroy gripped the starred-cross and clenched his teeth. Nothing was going to happen to him now.

"That's better. You could travel under the crest of Zeor, but you'll need a Sime escort, and I'm not free until I decide what to do about Hrel."

"Everyone was so happy that night..."

"Yes, of course. It was hard for Hrel, harder than for most. Now we know why. He wasn't totally committed." Thoughtfully, he ran the tip of a tentacle over each fingernail. "He may have overheard our argument that night. He may have reported what he heard. They may have gotten Feleho killed..."

"You mean it might have been my fault."

"No, Hugh. Any blame must be affixed only to the one who wielded the knife."

Valleroy took a sip of his tea. It was the hot, savory brew favored by the Simes, but it did have a soothing effect on the Gen stomach. "Do you know what Feleho called me... even before I knew his name or mission?"

"No. I arrived... too late."

"Naztehr. He called me 'Natzehr.' You know how that made me feel?"

"How?"

"As if I owed him something. Revenge, maybe. He died because he found Aisha for me. He died because I said something where Hrel could hear. So Zeor loses both Hrel and Feleho and no longer has need of me... a spare Gen."

"No Gens are ever 'spare.' Other Simes will come, and we'll be balanced again."

Valleroy sighed. "So what are you going to do with Hrel? If he learns you know about him, he'll be dangerous."

"Not dangerous, no. I'm more worried about the danger to him if word gets around what he's done."

"You're worried about what people might do to him! Klyd, if they did to him the same as he did to Feleho, it would be too good for him!"

Klyd frowned at Valleroy. "Sometimes I wonder if Andle isn't right. Gens are a disgustingly vicious people, sometimes."

Valleroy bounced to his feet, outraged. "Killing a Gen a month isn't vicious?"

Klyd laughed, a single burst of sound, hardly more than a bark. "Yes, I guess from your viewpoint it is."

"From your viewpoint, it isn't? If Hrel's a killer, and Zeor stands against the kill, then Hrel's an outsider. Why should you care what happens to him?"

Klyd leaned back in his chair looking up into Valleroy's eyes. "He's disjunct, Hugh. He's ours. Usually we discover spies before they get that far. This time we didn't, so now we've got a real problem. If I turn Hrel out, he'll be killing your people again. If

I keep him, maybe the experience will induce him to change allegiances, and then we'll have really won that round over Andle!"

"Is it worth the risk?"