"Edeard?" the lanky boy's longtalk asked fearfully.

"Yes! Yes, it's me and Obron. Come on, come out. It's safe, I think."

They both watched as Fahin crawled out of the bushes. His face and hands had been scratched mercilessly; his loose woolen sweater was missing completely. Tacky berry juice was smeared into his hair and over his glasses, which hung from one ear. Amazingly, he was still clutching his physick satchel. Obron helped him up and abruptly found himself being hugged.

"I was so frightened," Fahin mumbled piteously. "I fled. I'm sorry. I should have helped."

"It's okay," Obron said. "I wasn't much use, either." He turned and gave Edeard a long thoughtful look, his mind tightening pensively.

"Edeard saved me. He's killed a score of them."

"No," Edeard protested. "Nothing like that..." He trailed off as he realized he really had killed people that day. His guilty glance stole back to the bandit impaled on his own sword. A man was dead, and he had done it. But the sword had been slick with blood. And the other bandits...would have killed them. I didn't have a choice.

Sometimes you have to do what's wrong in order to do what's right.

"Can anyone still see or sense bandits?"

Edeard's head came up as he received Melzar's weak longtalk. Obron and Fahin also were looking around.

"Anyone?" Melzar asked. "Okay, then please make your way toward me. If anyone is injured, please help bring them along. Fahin, are you here?"

Somehow, Melzar being alive made the world a little less intimidating for Edeard. He even managed a small grin. Obron let out a whistle of relief.

"Yes, sir, I'm here," Fahin replied.

"Good lad. Hurry up, please; we have injured."

"Oh, Lady," Fahin groaned. "I'm just an apprentice. The doctor won't even let me prepare some of her leaves."

"Just do the best you can," Edeard said.

"But-"

"You cured our hangovers," Edeard said. "Nobody will start mouthing off at you for helping the injured. We're not expecting you to be as good as old Doc Seneo. But Fahin, you have to do something. You can't turn your back on wounded people. You just can't. They need you."

"He's right," Obron said. "I think I heard Janene scream. What would her parents say if you walked away?"

"Right, yes," Fahin said. "You're right, of course. Oh, Lady, where are my glasses? I can't do everything by farsight." He turned back to the thicket.

"They're here," Edeard said. His third hand lifted them gently into place, at the same time wiping the berry goop from them.

"Thank you," Fahin said.

They hurried through the forest toward Melzar. Other figures were moving with them in the same direction. Several apprentices sent panicky hellos via longtalk. Edeard remembered an image of Alcie and the wound in his thigh. It had looked bad.

Toran and the apprentices with pistols had gathered into a defensive group with Melzar. Edeard exchanged a relieved greeting with Genril, who was all jitters. He said he had one bullet left in his revolver and he was sure he had hit at least one bandit. "I got really scared when the fastfoxes charged us. Toran killed one with his rifle. Lady! He's a good shot."

"You should see what Edeard did," Obron said flatly. "He doesn't need guns."

"What?" Genril asked. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," Edeard said. "I know how to deal with animals, that's all. You know that."

"Just how strong are you?" Obron asked.

"Yeah," Genril said. "We heard your longtalk right over on the ridge. It was like you were next to me, screaming into my skull. Lady, I almost ducked when that arrow came at you."

"Does it matter?" Edeard asked. He was looking around, wondering where the others were. Out of the twelve apprentices and four adults in the flusher line, only five had made it back so far, including the three of them. Then Canan the carpenter arrived, carrying an unconscious Alcie. Fahin gave his friend a worried look, seeing the crudely wrapped wound already soaked in blood. His mind started to get agitated.

"Go," Edeard directed with quiet longtalk. "Do as much as you can."

"P-p-put him down," Fahin said. He knelt beside Alcie and started rummaging through his satchel.

Edeard turned back to the forest, sending his farsight ranging out. Where are the others? His heart quickened as he detected some movement. A couple of apprentices came running through the trees.

"It's all right," Melzar said soothingly. "You're safe now."

"We left Janene," one of them wailed. "We tried to save her, but she took an arrow. I ran-" He collapsed on the ground, sobbing.

"Nine," Edeard whispered as he kept his vigil. "Nine out of twelve."

Melzar's hand came down on his shoulder. "It would have been none without you," he said quietly. "Your warning saved us. Saved me, in fact. I owe you my life, Edeard. We all do."

"No." Edeard shook his head sadly. "I didn't warn you. I was terrified. That was all. You heard my fear."

"I know. It was powerful. What happened? What tipped you off?"

"I..." He frowned, remembering the sensation of fear that had gripped him. There was no reason for it. "I heard something," he said lamely.

"Whatever, I'm glad."

"Why couldn't we sense them? I thought I had good farsight. They were closer to me than Obron and Fahin, and I never knew."

"There are ways you can eclipse your thoughts, bend them away from farsight. It's not a technique we're very familiar with in Ashwell, and I've never seen it practiced so well as today. The Lady knows where they learned it. And they tamed fastfoxes, too. That's astonishing. We'll have to send messengers out to the other towns and warn them of this new development."

"Do you think there are more of them out there?" Edeard could imagine whole armies of bandits converging on their little caravan.

"No. We put them to flight today. And even if there were others lurking about, they have pause for thought now. Their ambush failed-thanks to you."

"I bet Janene and the others don't think it's failed," Edeard said bitterly. He didn't care that he was being rude to Melzar. After this, nothing much seemed to matter.

"There's no answer I can give you to that, lad. I'm sorry."

"Why do they do this?" Edeard asked. "Why do these people live out here hurting others? Why don't they live in the villages, in a house? They're just savages."

"I know, lad. But this is all they know. They're brought up in the wild, and they'll bring their children up the same way. It's not a cycle we can break. There are always going to be people living beyond civilization."

"I hate them. They killed my parents. Now they've killed my friends. We should wipe them out. All of them. It's the only way we'll ever be allowed to live in peace."

"That's anger talking."

"I don't care; that's what I feel. That's what I'll always feel."

"It probably is. Right now I almost agree with you. But it's my job to get everyone home safely." Melzar leaned in close, studying Edeard's expression and thoughts. "Are you going to help me with that?"

"Yes, sir. I will."

"Okay, now call back our ge-wolves."

"Right. What about the fastfox?" Edeard was still aware of the animal prowling at the limit of his farsight. It was confused, missing its original master.

"The fastfox?"

"Edeard tamed it," Obron said. "His third hand scooped it up, and he made it attack the bandits."

The other apprentices turned to look at Edeard. Despite the exhaustion and apprehension dominating their thoughts, a lot of them were registering surprise and even some concern.

"I told you," Edeard said sullenly. "I know how to deal with animals. It's what my whole guild does."

"Nobody's ever tamed a fastfox," Toran said. Melzar flashed him an annoyed glance.

"The bandits did," Genril said. "I saw the collars on them."

"They'd already learned to obey," Edeard explained. "My orders were stronger, that's all."

"All right," Melzar said. "Call the fastfox in. If you can control it, we'll use it to guard the caravan. If not, well..." He patted his rifle. "But I'll warn you now, lad. The village elders won't allow you to keep it."

IN AARON'S OPINION, Riasi had benefited from being stripped of its capital city status. It retained the grand structures intrinsic to any capital as well as the expansive public parks, a well-financed transport grid, and excellent leisure facilities, yet with the ministries and their bureaucrats decamped across the ocean to Makkathran2, the stress and hassle had been purged from everyday life. So had exorbitant housing costs. What was left was a rich city with every possible amenity; consequently, its residents were kicking back and enjoying themselves.

It made things a lot easier for Aaron. The taxi flight from Makkathran2 had taken nine hours; they had landed at the spaceport, one of hundreds of identical arrivals. Mercifully, Corrie-Lyn had spent most of the journey asleep. When she did wake up, she placidly did whatever he told her. So they moved through the vast passenger terminus on the pedwalks, visiting just about every lounge. Only then did he go back to the taxi rank and take a trip to the old Parliament building at the center of the city. It was late morning by then, with a lot of activity in the surrounding district. They swapped taxis again and then again. Three taxis later they finally touched down in a residential zone on the east bank of the Camoa River.

During the flight from Makkathran2 Aaron had rented a ground-floor apartment in a fifteen-story tower. It was anonymous enough; a safe house he called it. To Corrie-Lyn it probably seemed secure. Aaron knew his multiple taxi journeys and untraceable coin payment for the apartment were strictly amateur stuff. Any half-decent police officer could track them down within a day.

For two days he did nothing. It took Corrie-Lyn the entire first day just to sober up. He allowed her to order anything she wanted by way of clothes and food but forbade any alcohol or aerosols. For the second day she just sulked, a state exacerbated by a monster hangover. He knew there was plenty of trauma involved, too, as she reconciled what had happened with Captain Manby's squad. That night he heard her crying in her room.

Aaron decided to go all out with breakfast the next morning to try and reach through her mood. He combined the culinary unit's most sophisticated synthesis with items delivered fresh from a local delicatessen. The meal started with Olberon bluefruit, followed by French toast with caramelized banana; the main course was buckwheat crepes with fried duck eggs, grilled Uban mushroom, and smoked Ayrshire bacon, topped by a delicate omelette aux caviar. The tea was genuine Assam, which was all he could ever drink in the morning; it was not his best time of day.

"Wowie," Corrie-Lyn said in admiration. She had wandered in from her bedroom all bleary-eyed, dressed in a fluffy blue toweling robe. When she saw what was being laid out, she perked up immediately.

"There's sugar for the bluefruit," he told her. "It's refined from Dranscome tubers, best in the galaxy."

Corrie-Lyn sprinkled some of the silvery powder over the bluefruit and tried a segment. "Umm, that is good." She spooned out some more.

Aaron sat opposite her and took his first sip of tea. Their table was next to a window wall, giving them a view across the river. Several big oceangoing barges were coasting along just above the rippling water; smaller river traffic curved around them. He didn't see them; his eyes were on the loose front of her robe, which revealed the slope of her breasts. Firm and excellently shaped, he admired cheerfully. She certainly had a great body, his gaze tracking down to her legs to confirm it. There were no mental directives either way on having sex with her, so he suspected the hormonal admiration was all his own. It made him grin. Normal, after all.

"You're not a starship leasing agent," Corrie-Lyn said abruptly, her face pulled up in a peeved expression.

He realized he was allowing some of his feelings to ooze out into the gaiafield. "No."

"So what are you?"

"Some kind of secret agent, I guess."

"You guess?"

"Yeah."

"Don't you know?"

"Not really."

"What do you mean?"

"Simple enough. If I don't know anything, I can't reveal anything. I just have things I know I have to do."

"You mean you haven't got any memories of who you are?"

"Not really, no."

"Do you know who you're working for?"

"No."

"So how do you know you should be working for them?"

"Excuse me?"

"How do you know you're not working for the Ocisen Empire, that you're not helping bring down the Greater Commonwealth? Or what if you're a leftover Starflyer agent? They say Paula Myo never did catch all of them."

"Unlikely, but admittedly I don't know."

"Then how can you live with yourself?"

"I think it's improbable that I'm doing something like that. If you asked me to do it now, I wouldn't. So I wouldn't have agreed to do it before my full memory was removed."

"Your full memory." Corrie-Lyn tasted the idea with the same care with which she had sampled the bluefruit. "Anyone who agrees to have their memory taken out just to get an illegal contract has got to be pretty extreme. And you kill people, too. You're good at it."

"My combat software was superior to theirs. And they'll be re-lifed. Your friend Captain Manby is probably already walking around looking for us. Think how much improved his motivation is now thanks to me."

"Without your memories you can't know what your true personality is."

Aaron reached for his French toast. "And your point is?"

"For Ozzie's sake, doesn't that trouble you?"

"No."

She shook her head in amazement. "That's got to be an artificial feeling."