She cocked an eyebrow. "Charisse?"

He nodded.

"Because I'm sterile, of course."

He looked away. She closed her eyes and struggled for peace.

Small wonder. She's fretted over the clan's decline in fertility for quite a while now.

"Is there someone else, Martin?"

He turned toward her again. "After you? There could never be anyone else." He snorted. "Not that I wasn't encouraged to look around. No subtlety about it, either."

"Charisse again?"

He nodded. "Is the pain still there?"

She nodded, and he dropped his gaze.

"That was...my part of it," he said.

"Damn it all, I told you that I'm in control of it! Didn't you believe me?"

His expression became incredulous. "How was I supposed to believe that you're in unceasing agony, that it will never go away, but that it doesn't really matter? How would you have reacted if I'd said such a thing?"

-He's got a point, Al.

Grandpere! It's been- -Nearly two years. I know, I know. You needed the time to yourself. Never fear, I'd have been there if you ever really needed me.

(grimly) I had plenty of needs!

-Nothing you were unable to handle by yourself, dear.

And you knew that...how?

-I know you.

It halted her in mid-flight.

My self-imposed exile wasn't for any particular purpose. Maybe it served one even so.

-No maybes about it, Al. You are not who or what you were. You're far more. Some of it is invisible to you yet, though it won't be forever. Just one of the unacknowledged laws of human nature at work.

Which is?

-At every moment of your life, you are everything you have ever been. It's all there, from the instant of your birth onward to this very moment. And it all plays a part.

Even the pain?

-Especially the pain. Let yourself feel it for just a moment.

It sent a shudder through her. She hadn't opened herself to the torment from her abdomen since before her departure from Morelon House.

Are you sure about this, Grandpere?

-Trust me.

With some trepidation and her husband looking on in confusion, she closed her eyes, put psychic fingers to the barrier she'd built between her conscious mind and the pain from her abdomen, and lowered it for the briefest of instants.

The spear of agony that traveled through her sent her at once to her knees, crying out for surcease. Though she'd restored the barrier with the swiftness of thought, the memory of the jolt remained with her, as awful as the pain itself.

She realized as her senses returned to her command that Martin had knelt beside her and was clasping her in wordless terror. His body shook violently as he pressed them together.

"That wasn't an act," she gasped. "It's what the pain can do when I let it through. Until I can figure out a way to end it, I have to wall it off, refuse to feel it. But the wall is real, Martin. I can function. I can do anything I've ever done. Anything." She straightened, pushed him to arm's length, and looked directly into his eyes as she dispelled the memory of that lance of torture. "And I want my husband back in my arms. Back in my body."

He winced. "That was what I most feared."

"Hm?"

"That I would hurt you by loving you." He quivered as his eyes filled. "I've missed you so much, Althea."

She nodded and pulled him close again.

"The Lord taketh away," he gasped through his tears, "and the Lord giveth back again. Blessed be the name of the Lord."

She could make no reply.

Charisse's head came up as the door to her office opened. Barton Morelon strode into her sanctum with a visible degree of reluctance and an equal resolve.

"Yes, Bart, what is it?"

The scion of her clan halted before her desk and regarded her dubiously for a long moment. Her irritation rose.

If this isn't a casual visit, he'd better get to the point at once.

"I am here," he said as she readied herself to speak, "to request a special meeting of the elders' council, which I, of course, plan to attend. Would you do me the favor of calling the members together, preferably at once, or would you prefer that I do so in your stead?"

Charisse felt the beginnings of a surge of anger.

"What, exactly, is the reason for this request?"

He looked directly into her eyes. "To see if the council's opinion of our current condition is the same as my own. To suggest that our recent troubles and instabilities might have a single cause. To suggest what-or who-that cause might be, and to call for a change in clan management." He planted his fists on her desk and glared down at her. "Will you call the meeting, or shall I?"

She rose and returned his glare. "Do it yourself."

Barton inclined his head in formal acknowledgement. "As you like, Charisse." He glanced at his watch. "Expect us to convene at fourteen-thirty. I trust you'll be there?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

He bowed, turned, and left. As the door closed behind him, the tide of Charisse's fury flooded out of control. She screamed in frustration and hatred.

Chapter 20: Quintember 35, 1313 A.H.

"You're being unusually finicky."

Althea's gaze remained riveted to Freedom's Horizon. "She hasn't flown in six years, Martin."

"But-"

"In fact, she hasn't been out of this hangar since first flight." She stopped and turned toward him. "Tell you what: you can pilot her this time around. Without me in the right-hand seat."

"Al-"

"I've waited a long time for this," she said as calmly as she could. "I've worked like a lunatic. I've spent a ton of money. I did not put thousands of hours and millions of dekas into a spacecraft and a mass driver just to buzz the arctic ice cap and pot-shot the Relic in my free moments." She glanced at the spaceplane. "As soon as I'm certain she's ready, I am going up there and taking inventory." She folded her arms across her breasts. "You can accompany me if you like. Do you like?"

"Al-"

She folded her arms across her breasts. "Yes, dear?"

"Make it a thorough inspection. Really thorough. Take a few days. Maybe a month. Let me know when you think she's ready." Martin shook his head and started away. Althea held up a hand, and he halted.

"Just a second there, boy. You're not getting away that easily. Climb into the engine bay and give your baby a going over." She smiled sweetly. "Remind me, please: what did we get for the specific heat of reaction of those darling little pellets?"

He grumbled, went to the aft hatch, and unlatched the access to the engine compartment. Althea returned to her scrutiny of the forward fuselage.

He doesn't seem to grasp the risks, Grandpere.

-Do you, Al?

I'd like to think so.

-But do you? Really? Do you even know what they are? Were you aware that there has never been a reliable single-stage-to-orbit vehicle in the history of Man? Then there are the risks of space itself. Do you think you know what they are? Apart from the lack of breathable air, that is? No human being has ventured beyond Hope's atmosphere since the Spoonerites jumped off the Relic.

Grandpere? You do want me to do this, don't you?

-I certainly do, dear. But it's rather important to me that you live through it. I trust you feel the same way?

I think we agree on that. Any other pearls of wisdom for your granddaughter?

-Just one.

Hm?

-Keep in mind that Martin doesn't want you to do this.

He doesn't? Is that why he's so put out that I'm taking my time over the pre-flight?

-Of course. He wants to dissuade you. In fact, he's determined to do so, so from his perspective it's pointless. A waste of time he could put to better use discouraging you from going at all.

But- -Can you remember the last time you resolved on a course of action, and you were going to do it despite all obstacles and come what may?

Yes...

-Did anyone try to offer you advice or assistance?

Yes...

-How did you react, Al? Honestly, now.

The memory of her invasion of Kramnik House and liberation of Barton surged into vivid relief.

All right, Grandpere. You don't have to grind it in. But why is he opposed to it? He wasn't at the outset.

-I'll leave that for you to ponder in your copious free time. You could use the mental exercise.

The telepathic exchange terminated with a jolt that brought Althea's head up sharply.

He's displeased with me.

For an instant, the pain from her abdomen broke through her psychic barrier and had its way with her. She gasped and fought to reinstitute the wall as she struggled to stand.

I can't afford to deal with spikes like that in flight or space. If I'm going to have to cope with this for the rest of my life, I'd better learn how to make the wall more reliable.

She was just regaining control when her head rang with a new telepathic message.

-You make quite a lot of assumptions, Althea. It would be well for you to question them now and then.

She started to reply, reined it back.

What assumptions, Grandpere?

-You just expressed one. It was as audible to me as any thought you've ever had. Go back and find it.

She thought furiously.

That I'll have this pain problem for the rest of my life?

-That's the one I had in mind.